LXXXIII.

Though still the empress of the sunburnt waste, Palmyra rises, desolately grand-- Though with rich gold[48] and massy sculpture graced, Commanding still, Persepolis may stand In haughty solitude--though sacred Nile The first-born temples of the world surveys, And many an awful and stupendous pile Thebes of the hundred gates e’en yet displays; City of Pericles! oh who, like thee, Can teach how fair the works of mortal hand may be?