Rush on my mind, a thousand images;
And I spring up as girt to run a race!
Thou art in ROME! the City that so long
Reigned absolute, the mistress of the world;
The mighty vision that the prophets saw,
And trembled; that from nothing, from the least,
The lowliest village (What but here and there
A reed-roofed cabin by the river-side?)
Grew into every thing; and, year by year,
Patiently, fearlessly, working her way
O'er brook and field, o'er continent and sea,
Not like the merchant with his merchandise,
Or traveller with staff and scrip exploring,
But always hand to hand and foot to foot,
Through nations numberless in battle-array,
Each behind each, each, when the other fell,
Up and in arms, at length subdued them All.
Thou art in ROME! the City, where the Gauls,
Entering at sun-rise through her open gates,
And, through her streets silent and desolate,
Marching to slay, thought they saw Gods, not men ;
The City, that, by temperance, fortitude,
And love of glory, towered above the clouds,
Then fell-but, falling, kept the highest seat,
And in her loneliness, her pomp of woe,
Where now she dwells, withdrawn into the wild,
Still o'er the mind maintains, from age to age,
Her empire undiminished.There, as though
Grandeur attracted Grandeur, are beheld
All things that strike, ennoble-from the depths
Of EGYPT, from the classic fields of GREECE,
Her groves, her temples—all things that inspire
Wonder, delight! Who would not say the Forms
Most perfect, most divine, had by consent
Flocked thither to abide eternally,
Within those silent chambers where they dwell,
In happy intercourse?
Ah, little thought I, when in school I sate,
A school-boy on his bench, at early dawn
Glowing with Roman story, I should live
To tread the APPIAN, once an avenue
Of monuments most glorious, palaces,
Their doors sealed up and silent as the night,
The dwellings of the illustrious dead-to turn
Toward TIBUR, and, beyond the City-gate,
Pour out my unpremeditated verse,
Where on his mule I might have met so oft
HORACE himself-or climb the PALATINE,
Dreaming of old EVANDER and his guest,
Dreaming and lost on that proud eminence,
Long while the seat of ROME, hereafter found
Less than enough (so monstrous was the brood
Engendered there, so Titan-like) to lodge
One in his madness;* and inscribe my name,
My name and date, on some broad aloe-leaf,
That shoots and spreads within those very walls
Where VIRGIL read aloud his tale divine,
Where his voice faltered and a mother wept
Tears of delight!
But what the narrow space
Just underneath? In many a heap the ground
Heaves, as if Ruin in a frantic mood
Had done his utmost. Here and there appears,
As left to show his handy-work not ours,
An idle column, a half-buried arch,
A wall of some great temple.- -It was once,
And long, the centre of their Universe,
The FORUM-whence a mandate, eagle-winged,
Went to the ends of the earth. Let us descend
Slowly. At every step much may be lost.
The very dust we tread, stirs as with life;
And not a breath but from the ground sends up
Something of human grandeur.
We are come,
Are now where once the mightiest spirits met
In terrible conflict; this, while ROME was free,
The noblest theatre on this side Heaven!
-Here the first BRUTUS stood, when o'er the corse Of her so chaste all mourned, and from his cloud
Burst like a God. Here, holding up the knife
That ran with blood, the blood of his own child,
VIRGINIUS called down vengeance.-But whence spoke
They who harangued the people; turning now
To the twelve tables, now with lifted hands
To the Capitoline Jove, whose fulgent shape
In the unclouded azure shone far off,
And to the shepherd on the Alban mount
Seemed like a star new-risen? Where were ranged
In rough array as on their element,
The beaks of those old galleys, destined still*
To brave the brunt of war-at last to know
A calm far worse, a silence as in death?
All spiritless; from that disastrous hour
When he, the bravest, gentlest of them all,†
Scorning the chains he could not hope to break,
Fell on his sword!
Along the Sacred Way
Hither the Triumph came, and, winding round
With acclamation, and the martial clang
Of instruments, and cars laden with spoil,
Stopped at the sacred stair that then appeared;
Then thro' the darkness broke, ample, star-bright,
As tho' it led to heaven. 'Twas night; but now
A thousand torches, turning night to day,
Blazed, and the victor, springing from his seat,
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