IN MPGH's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands an great troll, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:—
"I am great Ethen," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty General shows
"The wonders of my hand."— General is gone,—
Nought but MPGH remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten king.
We wonder,—and some people may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.