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CV. And from the planks, far shatter'd o'er the rocks, Built me a little bark of hope, once more To battle with the ocean and the shocks Of the loud breakers, and the ceaseless roar Which rushes on the solitary shore Where all lies founder'd that was ever dear: But could I gather from the wave-worn store Enough for my rude boat, where should I steer? There woos no home, nor hope, nor life, save what is here,

GV. Then let the winds howl on! their harmony Shall henceforth be my music, and the night The sound shall temper with the owlets' 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



Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown
Matted and mass'd together, hillocks heap'd
On what were chambers, arch crush’d, column

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'
From her research hath been, that these are

wallsBehold the Imperial Mount! 'tis thus the mighty falls. 51)

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 gorgeous Tyranny had thus amass'd

All treasures, all delights, that eye or ear, Heart, soul could seek, tongue ask

Away with words! draw near,

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Admire, exult - despise - laugh, weep, —

for here
There is such matter for all feeling :- Man!
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear,
Ages and realms are crowded in this span,
This mountain, whose obliterated plan
The pyramid of empires pinnacled,
Of Glory's gewgaws shining in the van

Till the sun's rays with added flame were fillid!
Where are its golden roofs ? where those who dared

to build ?

сх. .


Tully 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:
Triuniph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace

Scoffing; and apostolic statues climb
To crush the imperial urn, whose ashes slept subli.

me, 53)
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 none sustain'd,
But yielded back his conquests:- he was more
Than a mere Alexander, and, unstain'd

With household blood and wine, serenely wore His sovereign virtues – still we Trajan's name adore. 54)

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



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.

CXIV. Then turn we to her latest tribune's name, From her ten thousand tyrants turn to thee, Redeemer of dark centuries of shame The friend of Petrarch — hope of ItalyRienzi! last of Romans! While the tree 55) Of freedom's wither'd trunk puts forth a leaf, Even for thy tomb a garland let it be —

The forum’s champion, and the people's chiefHer new. born Numa thou - with reign, alas! too brief.

Cxv. Egeria! sweet creation of some heart 56) Which found no mortal resting - place so fair As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art Or wert, -- a young Aurora of the air, The nympholepsy of some fond despair; Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth, Who found a more than common votary there Too much adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.

CXVI. The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled With thine Elysian water drops; the face Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place, Whose green, wild margin now no more erase Art's work's; nor must the delicate waters sleep, Prison'd in marble, bubbling from the base

Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap The rill runs o’er, and round, fern, flowers, and

ivy, creep


Fantastically tangled; the green ills
Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass
The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills
Of summer- birds sing welcome as ye pass;
Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class,
Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes
Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass;

The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes, Kiss'd by the breath of heaven, seems colour'd by

its skies.


Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover,
Egeria! thy all heavenly bosom beating
For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;
The purple Midnight veil'd that mystic meeting
With her most starry canopy, and seating
Thyself by thine adorer, what befel ?
This cave was surely shaped out for the greeting

Of an enamoured Goddess, and the cell
Haunted by holy Love — the earliest oracle!

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And didst thou not, thy breast to his replying,
Blend a celestial with a human heart;
And Love, which dies as it was born, in sighing,
Share with immortal transports ? cloud thine art
Make them indeed immortal, and impart
The purity of heaven to earthly joys,
Expel the venom and not blunt the dart-

The dull satiety which all destroys — And root from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys?

Alas! our young affections run to waste,
Or water but the desert; whence arise
But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste,
Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes,
Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies,
And trees whose gums are poison; such the plants
Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies

O’er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants
For some celestial fruit forbidden to our wants.

CXXI. Oh Love! no habitant of earth thou art An unseen seraph, we believe in thee. A faith whose martyrs are the broken heart, But never yet hath seen, nor e'er shall see The naked eye, thy form, as it should be; The mind hath made thee, as it peopled heaven, Even with its own desiring phantasy,

And to a thought such shape and image given, As haunts the unquench'd soul-parch’d-weariedwrung - and riven.

CXXII. Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation :- where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone. Can Nature show so fair? Where are the charms and virtues which we dare Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men, The unreach'd Paradise of our despair,

Which o'er - informs the pencil and the pen, And overpowers the page where it would bloom again?

CXXIII. Who loves,raves—'tis youth's frenzy—but the cure Is bitterer still; as charm, by charm unwinds Which robed our idols, and we see too sure Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out the mind's Ideal shape of such; yet still it binds The fatal spell, and still it draws us on, Reaping the whirlwind from the oft - sown winds;

The stubborn heart, its alchemy begun, Seems ever near the prize. wealthiest when most undone.

CXXIV. We wither from our youth, we gasp awaySick-sick; unfound the boon—unslaked the thirst, Though to the last, in verge of our decay, Some phantom lures, such as we sought at firstBut all too late, - so are we doubly curst. Love, fame, ambition, avarice —'tis the same, Each idle - and all ill - and none the worst

For all are meteors with a different name, And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the


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