Where rich device bedecked the wall 
We trace alone the idler’s scrawl ; 
And Ivy-wreaths now hide the stone 
Where silken tapestry once shone ; 
Graceful the mantling foliage clings, 
And such a garb of beauty flings, 
But that it tells of ruin’s ban 
We scarce could mourn that work of man 
Should yield to that wherein we see 
The matchless touch of Deity ! 
