XXV

Would that I might possess the Thracian lyre,
To wake from Hades, and their idle pose,
Those old Caesars, and the shades of those,
Who once raised this ancient city higher:

Or that I had Amphion’s to inspire,
And with sweet harmony these stones enclose
To quicken them again, where they once rose,
Ausonian glory conjuring from its pyre:

Or that with skilful pencil I might draw
The portrait of these palaces once more,
With the spirit of some high Virgil filled;

I would attempt, inflamed by my ardour,
To recreate with the pen’s slight power,
That which our own hands could never build.