And when that light withdraws, withdrawing then;--
So do we flutter in the glance of youth
And fervid fancy,--and so perish when
The eye of faith grows aged;--in sad truth,
Feeling thy sway, O Time! though not thy tooth!"


XXIV.

"Where be those old divinities forlorn,
That dwelt in trees, or haunted in a stream?
Alas! their memories are dimm'd and torn,
Like the remainder tatters of a dream:
So will it fare with our poor thrones, I deem;--
For us the same dark trench Oblivion delves,
That holds the wastes of every human scheme.
O spare us then,--and these our pretty elves,--
We soon, alas! shall perish of ourselves!"


XXV.

Now as she ended, with a sigh, to name
Those old Olympians, scatter'd by the whirl
Of Fortune's giddy wheel and brought to shame,
Methought a scornful and malignant curl
Show'd on the lips of that malicious churl,
To think what noble havocs he had made;
So that I fear'd he all at once would hurl
The harmless fairies into endless shade,--