(1796, Habert Robert, 1733-1803)
Once there was a majestic hall,
now through ashes I see the sky,
the walk of a mosaic now crumbling pieces,
and what of the statues there?
Heads and arms have all been lost,
moreso than from those which had not,
clouds consume paintings of all ages,
and yet I sit here and reflect still.
In embers and in dust is a new beauty,
to see cinders of grandeur a new art,
in the ruin of the large of quaint,
smoke rises bearing the memories.