from Herman Melville's Timoleon, etc.
The Tower in tiers of architraves,
Fair circle over cirque,
A trunk of rounded colonnades,
The maker's master-work,
Impends with all its pillared tribes,
And, poising them, debates:
It thinks to plunge -- but hesitates;
Shrinks back -- yet fain would slide;
Withholds itself -- itself would urge;
Hovering, shivering on the verge,
A would-be suicide!
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