That love song that always begins again,
At the foot of the sycamore or under white laurels,
Beneath the olive tree, myrtle or quivering willow?…
Do you remember the TEMPLE with the huge peristyle,
The bitter lemons in which you sank your teeth,
And that grotto, fatal to rash visitors,
Where sleeps the conquered dragon’s ancient seed?…
They will return, those gods you still weep for!
Time will bring back the order of the old days;
Earth has trembled with a sigh of prophecy…
But still the sibyl with the Latin countenance
Is sleeping under the arch of Constantine
-And nothing has disturbed the stern portico.
p. 221 Gerard de Nerval, Les Chimeres, (lil lost in translation, but still)