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Death-parted friends, and days too swift in

flight,

Supplanted the whole majesty of Rome

(Then first apparent from the Pincian Height) Crowned with St. Peter's everlasting Dome.'

III.

AT ROME.

Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill?
Yon petty Steep in truth the fearful Rock,
Tarpeian named of yore, and keeping still
That name, a local Phantom proud to mock
The Traveller's expectation ?-Could our Will 5
Destroy the ideal Power within, 'twere done
Thro' what men see and touch,-slaves wan-
dering on,

Impelled by thirst of all but Heaven-taught skill.

Full oft, our wish obtained, deeply we sigh; Yet not unrecompensed are they who learn, 10 From that depression raised, to mount on high With stronger wing, more clearly to discern Eternal things; and, if need be, defy

Change, with a brow not insolent, though stern.

IV.

AT ROME.-REGRETS.-IN ALLUSION TO NIEBUHR
AND OTHER MODERN HISTORIANS.

THOSE old credulities, to nature dear,
Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock
Of History, stript naked as a rock

'Mid a dry desert? What is it we hear?
The glory of Infant Rome must disappear,

1 1 See Note.

5

Her morning splendours vanish, and their place Know them no more. If Truth, who veiled her face

With those bright beams yet hid it not, must

steer

Henceforth a humbler course perplexed and

slow;

One solace yet remains for us who came Into this world in days when story lacked Severe research, that in our hearts we know How, for exciting youth's heroic flame, Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.

IO

V.

CONTINUED.

COMPLACENT Fictions were they, yet the same
Involved a history of no doubtful sense,
History that proves by inward evidence
From what a precious source of truth it came.
Ne'er could the boldest Eulogist have dared 5
Such deeds to paint, such characters to frame,
But for coeval sympathy prepared

9

To greet with instant faith their loftiest claim.
None but a noble people could have loved
Flattery in Ancient Rome's pure-minded style:
Not in like sort the Runic Scald was moved;
He, nursed 'mid savage passions that defile
Humanity, sang feats that well might call
For the blood-thirsty mead of Odin's riotous
Hall.

VI.

PLEA FOR THE HISTORIAN.

FORBEAR to deem the Chronicler unwise,
Ungentle, or untouched by seemly ruth,

Who, gathering up all that Time's envious

tooth

5

Has spared of sound and grave realities,
Firmly rejects those dazzling flatteries,
Dear as they are to unsuspecting Youth,
That might have drawn down Clio from the
skies

To vindicate the majesty of truth.

IO

Such was her office while she walked with men,
A Muse, who, not unmindful of her Sire
All-ruling Jove, whate'er the theme might be
Revered her Mother, sage Mnemosyne,
And taught her faithful servants how the lyre
Should animate, but not mislead, the pen.'

VII.

AT ROME.

THEY-who have seen the noble Roman's scorn
Break forth at thought of laying down his head,
When the blank day is over, garreted
In his ancestral palace, where, from morn
To night, the desecrated floors are worn
By feet of purse-proud strangers; they—who
have read

5

In one meek smile, beneath a peasant's shed, How patiently the weight of wrong is borne; They--who have heard some learned Patriot treat

Of freedom, with mind grasping the whole theme From ancient Rome, downwards through that bright dream

Of Commonwealths, each city a starlike seat Of rival glory; they-fallen Italy—

Nor must, nor will, nor can, despair of Thee!

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Anio's

Going Bew-born

all things

The explor

Shrinks from the note as from a mis-time Fand thing,

Oft for a holy warning may it serve,

Charged with remembrance of his sudden stinfood
His bitter tears, whose name the Papal Chairs Heave

And yon resplendent Church are proud to be

the ark gh we see

promise a

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'Mid new-born blossoms that soft airs were wooing, While all things present told of joy and love. But restless Fancy left that olive grove To hail the exploratory Bird renewing Hope for the few, who, at the world's undoing, On the great flood were spared to live and move. O bounteous Heaven! signs true as dove and bough

Brought to the ark are coming evermore,

ven though we seek them not, but, while we plough

his sea of life without a visible shore, neither promise ask nor grace implore That alone is ours, the living Now.

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