Chapter XXXVII

And, mused I now, as that stern exile mused,
'Mid fallen columns, cities overthrown,
With Desolation all around diffused,
I should seem less than I seem now alone--
For it would be companionship; but here
There is no sympathy with mortal tear:
The skies are smiling, and the forests rise
In their green glory up, aspirers to the skies!--