AGNES or HIGH SUNDERLAND. 171 



Where now ]icstifiTous ordure heaps are seen 



Kxposed and bare, 

 Ceaselessly pouring forth their putrid steam 

 To taint the air, 

 And stagnant pools, and ruined fences lie, 

 Keeking in filth, — offensive to the eye ; 



Here once sweet flowers in their gayest dress 



Did court the breeze. 

 Breathing their perfumes in mute thankfulness. — 

 But where are the^c ? — 

 Ali\s ! All trodden down beneath thf heel of trade, 

 \\ hose boast, — " a once sweet paradise a desert made." 



Thy noble bam with its bewild'ring beams 



On which we gaze 

 With heads uncovered, — revelling in dreams 



Of former days, — 

 When rose tVic har\'est-hymii fi-om grateful swain 

 And hallow'd with its tones, the hoard of grain. 



Where fiery chargers once have spurned the ground 



Snorting in pride. 

 The solitary gin-horse walks his round 

 With Hmping siride ; 

 And where the hooded falcon trimmed his beak, 

 The loathsome beetles for subsistence seek. 



Thy statues hold to view their battered forms 



As tho' they wept, — 

 Powerless to brave th' Iconoclastic storms 

 W^jich o"er them swept. 

 Leaving them there as monuments to tell 

 The r spoiler's shame. — Old ruin, fare thee well. 



But can I wish farewell, and thus depart. 



Leaving no trace 

 To tell the deep, sad grief that 'whelms my heart 

 For thy disgrace ? — 

 But yet, not thine, 'lis theirs who in neglect 

 Stand carele s by and see thy beauties wrecked. 



J cannot re.ir thy walls anew, — nor call 

 1 he spirits back 



