« ElőzőTovább »
CXXXVI. From mighty. wrongs to petty perfidy Have I not seen what human things could do? From the loud roar of foaming calumny To the small whisper of the as paltry few, And subtler venom of the reptile crew, The Janus glance of whose significant eye, Learning to lie with silence, would seem true, And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh, Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy.
CXXXVII. But I have lived, and have not lived in vain: My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire, And my frame perish even in conquering pain, But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire; Something unearthly, which they deem not of, Like the remember'd tone of a mute lyre, Shall on their soften'd spirits sink, and move In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love.
CXXXVIII. The seal is set. - Now welcome, thou dread power Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear; Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear
That we become a part of what has been, And grow unto the spot, all - seeing but unseen.
CXXXIX. And here the buzz of eager nations ran, In murmur'd pity, or loud-roard applause, As man was slaughter'd by his fellow man. And wherefore slaughter'd? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure. – Wherefore not? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms - on battle - plains or listed spot? Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot.
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
The arena swims around him -he is gone, ;
CXLI. He heard it, but he heeded not his eyes. Were with his heart, and that was far aways He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But wliere his rude hut by the Danube layThere were his yang barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butcher?d to make a Roman holiday - 60 All this rush'l with his blood - Shall be expire And unavenged? - Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
CXLII. But here, where Murder breathed her bloody steam; And here, where buzzing nations choked the ways, And roar’d or murmur'd like a mountain stream Dashing or winding as its torrent strays; Here, where the Roman million's blame or praise Was death or life, the playthings of a crowd, 61 My voice sounds much- and fall the stars' faint rays On the arena void - seats crush'd - walls how'd And galleries, where my steps seemi echoes strangely
It will not bear the brightness of the day,
CXLLV. But when the rising moon begins to climb Its topmost arch, and gently pauses there; When the stars twinkle through the loops of time, And the low night - breeze waves along the air The garland - forest, which the gray walls wear, Like laurels on the bald first Caesar's head; 62 When the light shines serene but doth not glare,
Then in this magic circle raise the dead: Heroes have trod this spot-'tis on their dust ye tread.
CXLV. “While stands the Coliseum, Bome shall stand; 63 “When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; “And when Rome falls - the World.” From our
own land Thus spake the pilgrims o'er this mighty wall In Saxon times, which we are wont to call Ancient; and these three mortal things are still, On their foundations, and unalter'd all; Rome and her Ruin past Redemption's skill, The World, the same wide den - of thieves, or what