Get this book in print
About this book
My library
Books on Google Play
Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust ?
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death ?
Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid
Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.