That hollow space, where now in living rows,
Line above line the yew's sad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave;
The landskip now so sweet we well may praise,
But far, far sweeter in its ancient days,
Far sweeter was it, when its peopled ground
With fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs were crown'd.
Where in the midst those verdant pillars spring,
Rose the proud palace of the Elfin king;
For every hedge of vegetable green,
In happier years a crowded street was seen,
Nor all those leaves, that now the prospect grace,
Could match the numbers of its pigmy race.
What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate,
A tale of woe and wonder I relate.