Look on its broken arch, its ruined wall,

Its chambers desolate, and portals foul:

Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall,

The Dome of Thought, the Palace of the Soul:

Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole,

The gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit[117]

And Passion's host, that never brooked control:

Can all Saint, Sage, or Sophist ever writ,

People this lonely tower, this tenement refit?