Thebes

Thebes, whose proud towers, so fabling minstrels tell,
Were raised by music's heaven-descended spell,
Boasts yet faint lines of beauty, crowning still,
'Mid cypress groves, her ancient rocky hill;
But Pindar's house, which Pella's conqueror spared,
When all beside his crushing vengeance shared,
In vain we seek — neglect, time, scorn of fame,
More surely ruin work, than sword or flame.