Immortal beauty, touched by fire divine
That glows as in thy pristine days, I see
The white-robed priests and virgins joyfully
Bearing their gifts of honey, flowers and wine,
With sounding reed and timbrel, to thy shrine,
Whilst thou, impassive, waitest the decree
Of heaven, to speak with cold solemnity
That which unfolds a deity's design.
Gone are the gods and heroes of the past
To shine in distant stars with pallid gleam,
Subdued and faint beyond the darkness vast,
Their power forgot, their glory overcast;
Yet thou remainest in thy grace supreme
And fadeless splendour that was ne'er surpassed.