72 
SCENES IN INDIA. 
morandum in the chronicle of time, other cities have 
sprung up by the application of human energies, if 
not equally magnificent, at least of equal importance. 
Nothing passes from us without a purpose. For 
every loss there is a balance of gain. One man dies 
and another is born. One empire is crushed and ex- 
pires, when another starts into existence and flourishes,, 
If ruin lays her mighty grasp upon some distinguished 
capital, prosperity lifts another from the shade. 
The spider,” says a Persian poet, “ has wove 
its web in the palace of the emperors, and the owl 
hath sung her watch- song on the towers of Afrasiab.” 
Look Nature through, ’tis revolution all — 
All change, no death. Day follows night, and night 
The dying day ; stars rise and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes the example. See the Summer gay, 
With her green chaplet and ambrosial flowers. 
Droops into pallid Autumn: Winter gray, 
Horrid with frost and turbulent with storms, 
Blows Autumn, and his golden fruits, away, 
Then melts into the Spring : soft Spring, with breath 
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south 
Recalls the first. All, to reflourish, fades : 
As in a wheel, all sinks to reascend, 
Emblem of man who passes, not expires. 
