From the Chinese

THESE grey stones have rung with mirth and lordly carousel:

Here proud kings mingled Poetry and ruddy wine.

All hath pass’d long ago; nought but this ruin abideth,

Sadly in eyeless trance gazing upon the river.

Wou’dst thou know who here visiteth, dwelleth and singeth also,

Ask the swallows flying from sunny-wall’d Italy.