To a Duerer Drawing of Antwerp Harbour

Figured by Duerer's magic hand wast thou, That, lightning-like, traced on the lucid page Rough, careless lines, with wizardry so sage That yet the whole was fair, I know not how: Ships of gaunt masts, and stark, sea-smitten prow, Idle, yet soon again to sweep the main In the swift service of old merchants' gain, Where are ye now, alas, where are ye now? Gone are ye all, and vanished very long, Sunk with great glory in the storied wars, Or conquered by the leaping breakers wild: And yet we love your image, like some song That tells of ancient days and high, because Old Duerer looked upon you once and smiled.