XCIV.

O conquering Genius! that couldst thus detain The subtle graces, fading as they rise, Eternalise expression’s fleeting reign, Arrest warm life in all its energies, And fix them on the stone--thy glorious lot Might wake ambition’s envy, and create Powers half divine: while nations are forgot, A thought, a dream of thine hath vanquish’d fate! And when thy hand first gave its wonders birth, The realms that hail them now scarce claim’d a name on earth.