I Desolation
There was a King of Liang* — a king of wondrous might —
Who kept an open palace, where music charmed the night —
II
Since he was Lord of Liang a thousand years have flown, And of the towers he builded yon ruin stands alone.
III
There reigns a heavy silence; gaunt weeds through windows pry, And down the streets of Liang old echoes, wailing, die.
— * Strictly speaking, the pronunciation of all words such as Liang, Kiang, etc., is nearer one syllable than two. For purposes of euphony, however, without which the lines would be harsh and unpoetical, I have invariably made two syllables of them. —