The long and perilous ways—the Cities of the Dead!

15

XIV

 And tombs of monarchs to the clouds up-piled— They perished, but the eternal tombs remain— And the black precipice, abrupt and wild, Pierced by long toil and hollowed to a fane;— Huge piers and frowning forms of gods sustain The everlasting arches, dark and wide, Like the night-heaven, when clouds are black with rain. But idly skill was tasked, and strength was plied, All was the work of slaves to swell a despot's pride. 

And tombs of monarchs to the clouds up-piled—

They perished, but the eternal tombs remain—

And the black precipice, abrupt and wild,

Pierced by long toil and hollowed to a fane;—

Huge piers and frowning forms of gods sustain

The everlasting arches, dark and wide,

Like the night-heaven, when clouds are black with rain.

But idly skill was tasked, and strength was plied,

All was the work of slaves to swell a despot's pride.

XV

 And Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke; She left the down-trod nations in disdain, And flew to Greece, when Liberty awoke, New-born, amid those glorious vales, and broke Sceptre and chain with her fair youthful hands: As rocks are shivered in the thunder-stroke. And lo! in full-grown strength, an empire stands Of leagued and rival states, the wonder of the lands. 

And Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign

O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke;

She left the down-trod nations in disdain,

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