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CVI. Then let the winds howl on! their harmony Shall henceforth be my music, and the night The sound shall temper with the owlet's cry, As I now hear them, in the fading light Dim o'er the bird of darkness' native site, Answering each other on the Palatine, With their large eyes, all glistening gray and bright And sailing pinions - Upon such a shrine What are our petty griefs?-let me not number mine
CVII. Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown' Matted and mass’d together, hillocks heap'd On what were chambers, arch crush'd, column
I strown In fragments, choked up vaults, and frescos steep'd In subterranean damps, where the owl peep'd, Deeming it midnight:- Temples, baths, or halls ? Pronounce who can; for all that Learning reap'd From her research hath been, that these are walls Behold the ImperialMount!'tis thus the mighty falls. 5 I
CVIII. There is the moral of all human tales; 52 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory - when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page, - 'tis better written here, Where georgeous Tyranny had thus amass'd All treasures, all delights, that eye or ear, Heart, soul could seek, tongue ask - Away will
words! draw near,
СІХ. Admire, exult -- despise--laugh, weep, --for here There is such matter for all feeling:- Man! Thou pendulum hetwixt a smile and tear, Ages and realms are crowded in this span, This mountain, whose obliterated plan The pyramid of empires pinnacled, Or Glory's gewgaws shining in the van
Till the sun's rays with added flame were fill'd! Where are its golden roofs? where those who dared
to build ?
СХ. Tally was not so eloquent as thou, Thou nameless column with the buried base! What are the laurels of the Caesar's brow? Crown me with ivy from his dwelling - place. Whose arch or pillar meets me in the face, Titus or Trajan's? No-'tis that of Time: Triumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace Scoffing; and apostolic statues climb To crush the imperil urn, whose ashes slept subli
CXI. Buried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome, And looking to the stars: they had contain'd A spirit which with these would find a home, The last of those who o'er the whole earth reign'd, The Roman globe, for after nonc sustain'd, But yielded back his conquets: – he was more Than a mere Alexander, and, unstain'd With household blood and wine, serenely wore His sovereign virtues - still we Traja'ns name
CXII. Where is the rock of Triumph, the high place Where Rome embraced her heroes? where the steep Tarpeian? fittest goal of Treason's race, The promontory whence the Traitor's Leap Cured all ambition. Did the conquerors heap Their spoils here? Yes; and in yon field below, A thousand years of silenced factions sleep The Forum, where the immortal accents glow, And still the eloquent air breathes - burns with Ci
CXIII. The field of freedom, faction, fame, and blood: Here a proud people's passions were exhaled, From the first hour of empire in the bud To that when further worlds to conquer fail'd; But long before had Freedom's face been veild, And Anarchy assumed her attributes; Till every lawless soldier who assail'd Trod on the trembling senate's slavish mutes, Or raised the venal voice of baser prostitutes.
The forum's champion, and the people's chief Her new-bornNuma thou-with reign, alas ! too brief,
Too much adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth,