Yes, if you will allow me to say so, I, my friends, if you do not, can plainly see her, The same undying soul of earth’s, activity’s, beauty’s, heroism’s expression, Out from her evolutions hither come, ended the strata of her former themes, Hidden and cover’d by to-day’s, foundation of to-day’s, Ended, deceas’d through time, her voice by Castaly’s fountain, Silent the broken-lipp’d Sphynx in Egypt, silent all those century-baffling tombs, Ended for aye the epics of Asia’s, Europe’s helmeted warriors, ended the primitive call of the muses, Calliope’s call forever closed, Clio, Melpomene, Thalia dead, Ended the stately rhythmus of Una and Oriana, ended the quest of the Holy Graal, Jerusalem a handful of ashes blown by the wind, extinct, The Crusaders’ streams of shadowy midnight troops sped with the sunrise, Amadis, Tancred, utterly gone, Charlemagne, Roland, Oliver gone,