29.07.2007, 12:44
When pensive on that portraiture I gaze,
Where my four brothers round about me stand,
And four fair sisters smile with graces bland,
The goodly monument of happier days;
And think how soon insatiate Death, who preys
On all, has cropped the rest with ruthless hand;
While only I survive of all that band,
Which one chaste bed did to my father raise;
It seems that like a column left alone,
The tottering remnant of some splendid fane,
'Scaped from the fury of the barbarous Gaul,
And wasting Time, which has the rest o'erthrown;
Amidst our house's ruins I remain
Single, unpropped, and nodding to my fall.
Where my four brothers round about me stand,
And four fair sisters smile with graces bland,
The goodly monument of happier days;
And think how soon insatiate Death, who preys
On all, has cropped the rest with ruthless hand;
While only I survive of all that band,
Which one chaste bed did to my father raise;
It seems that like a column left alone,
The tottering remnant of some splendid fane,
'Scaped from the fury of the barbarous Gaul,
And wasting Time, which has the rest o'erthrown;
Amidst our house's ruins I remain
Single, unpropped, and nodding to my fall.