Glorious is this wall-stone broken by Fate;a city burst, the works of giants wasted away.The roofs have collapsed, the towers are in ruins,the barred gates gone, the cement encrusted with hoarfrost,vacant roofs cut down, crumbledand eaten away by age. In Earth's grip havethe master-builders decayed, passed out of memoryin the Earth's jealous grasp, until a hundred generationshave come and gone.
Long has this wall enduredthough lichen-grey and tarnished red, stronger than its makers,standing still under storms though its tallest arches have crumbled.It has endured, though cut down,penetrated,and buffeted by grinding weapons;still there is the shine of celestial joys, of the skillful ancient work, though caked and crusted with mire.Here is a wonder: in the mind swiftly devised,ingeniously, and with rings bound bravelyand wondrously together was this foundation trammeled.
Happy were their homes, bath houses numerous,gables high and ornamented, streets busy with activity,mead halls, men enjoying life to the fullestuntil Fate, strong and pitiless, changed all that.Slaughtered men fell widely, the day of pestilence came,and conquering death destroyed all the valiant men;their fortress of defence became a waste place,and their city a ruin. Even its rebuilders perishedmaking war amongst themselves. Thus is this gallery decayed,and these red, curved tiles separated and fallenfrom its vaulted dome. Fallen down to the ground,crumbled to the mountains, where once many a warrior,blithe and cheerful, splendrously adornedwith gilt armor, proud and ruddy,gazed on treasures, on silver, on gem stones,on prosperity, on possessions, on precious stones,and on this their bright city of a wide kingdom.
Here a stone house once stood, and here a hot stream castits surge widely: a wall caught allin its bright bosom, and there the bath washot on the hearth. This was a convenience.Then was allowed to pouron banks of hoary stones, the hot streamsuntil * * * * * * * * * * * *