| |
| GRIM monarchs of the silent plain, | |
| Seated in motionless, sublime repose, | |
| With faces turned forever toward the dawn, | |
| With eyes that sleep not, lips that ne’er unclose,— | |
| |
| While kingdoms crumble round their thrones, | 5 |
| In lonely state they keep their ancient seat; | |
| Time’s ocean ebbs and flows, with drifting sands, | |
| Like the mysterious river at their feet. | |
| |
| The blithe birds sing their morning song | |
| Where Memnon’s voice once rose to greet the sun; | 10 |
| The shadows lengthen nightly toward the west, | |
| The stars shine down, the days pass one by one. | |
| |
| Still side by side they sit, with hands | |
| Laid idly on their mighty knees of stone,— | |
| What thoughts pass through their dim brains, silent thus, | 15 |
| Companions, yet through centuries alone? | |
| |
| Mourn they their kingdom’s vanished might, | |
| Their broken altars, heaped with dust of death? | |
| Or search they the dread future with blank eyes,— | |
| Kings, priests, and gods of a forgotten faith? | 20 |
| |
| Rock-hewn, they last while time shall last, | |
| The hills shall leave their seats as soon as they; | |
| But there is One who brooks no rival thrones, | |
| And breaks all sceptres at the last great Day. | |
| |
| Mid ruins of a passing world, | 25 |
| To their slow height those giant forms shall rise; | |
| With solemn steps they move to meet their doom, | |
| From the dread presence passing with veiled eyes, | |
| |
| Beneath the gate of an eternal death | |
| They enter, and are lost among the shades,— | 30 |
| In the dim region of perpetual sighs, | |
| Where earthly glory, earthly greatness, fades. | |
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