As her imagination painted with melancholy touches, the deserted plains of Troy, such as they appeared in this after-day, she reanimated the landscape with the following little story.
STANZAS
O’er Ilion’s plains, where once the warrior bled,
And once the poet rais’d his deathless strain,
O’er Ilion’s plains a weary driver led
His stately camels: For the ruin’d fane
Wide round the lonely scene his glance he threw,
For now the red cloud faded in the west,
And twilight o’er the silent landscape drew
Her deep’ning veil; eastward his course he prest:
There, on the grey horizon’s glimm’ring bound,
Rose the proud columns of deserted Troy,
And wandering shepherds now a shelter found
Within those walls, where princes wont to joy.
Beneath a lofty porch the driver pass’d,
Then, from hi
