THE RUINS of ROME . A POEM . By the Same . Aspice murorum moles , praeruptaque saxa , Obrutaque borrenti vasta theatra situ : Haec sunt Roma . Viden' velut ipsa cadavera tantae Urbis adhuc spirent imperiosa minas ? Janus Vitalis . Janus Vitalis, Roma Prisca (Romanae Ecclesiae Elogia, 1552). ENOUGH of Grongar , and the shady dales Of winding Towy , Merlin's fabled haunt , I sung inglorious . Now the love of arts , And what in metal or in stone remains Of proud antiquity , thro' various realms And various languages and ages fam'd , Bears me remote , o'er Gallia's woody bounds , O'er the cloud-piercing Alps remote ; beyond The vale of Arno purpled with the vine , Beyond the Umbrian and Etruscan hills , To Latium's wide champain , forlorn and waste , Where yellow Tiber his neglected wave Mournfully rolls . Yet once again , my Muse , Yet once again , and soar a loftier flight ; Lo the resistless theme , imperial Rome . Fall'n , fall'n , a silent heap ; her heroes all Sunk in their urns ; behold the pride of pomp , The throne of nations fall'n ; obscure in dust ; Ev'n yet majestical ; the solemn scene Elates the soul , while now the rising sun Flames on the ruins in the purer air Tow'ring aloft , upon the glitt'ring plain , Like broken rocks , a vast circumference ; Rent palaces , crush'd columns , rifted moles , Fanes roll'd on fanes , and tombs on buried tombs . Deep lies in dust the Theban obelisc , Immense along the waste ; minuter art , Gliconian forms , or Phidian , subtly fair , O'erwhelming ; as th' immense LEVIATHAN The finny brood , when near Ierne's shore Out-stretch'd , unwieldly , his island length appears Above the foamy flood . Globose and huge , Grey-mould'ring temples swell , and wide o'ercast The solitary landskape , hills and woods , And boundless wilds ; while the vine-mantled brows The pendent goats unveil , regardless they Of hourly peril , though the clefted domes Tremble to every wind . The pilgrim oft At dead of night , 'mid his oraison hears Aghast the voice of time , disparting tow'rs , Tumbling all precipitate down-dash'd , Rattling around , loud thund'ring to the moon : While murmurs sooth each aweful interval Of ever-falling waters ; shrouded Nile Fountains at Rome adorned with the statues of those rivers . , Eridanus , and Tiber with his twins , And palmy Euphrates ; they with dropping locks , Hang o'er their urns , and mournfully among The plaintive-echoing ruins pour their streams . Yet here advent'rous in the sacred search Of ancient arts , the delicate of mind , Curious and modest , from all climes resort , Grateful society ! with these I raise The toilsome step up the proud Palatin , Through spiry cypress groves , and tow'ring pine , Waving aloft o'er the big ruins brows , On num'rous arches rear'd : and frequent stopp'd , The sunk ground startles me with dreadful chasm , Breathing forth darkness from the vast profound Of isles and halls , within the mountain's womb . Nor these the nether works ; all these beneath , And all beneath the vales and hills around , Extend the cavern'd sewers , massy , firm , As the Sibyline grot beside the dead Lake of Avernus ; such the sewers huge , Whither the great Tarquinian genius dooms Each wave impure ; and proud with added rains , Hark how the mighty billows lash their vaults , And thunder ; how they heave their rocks in vain ! Though now incessant Time has roll'd around A thousand winters o'er the changeful world , And yet a thousand since , th' indignant floods Roar loud in their firm bounds , and dash and swell , In vain ; convey'd to Tiber's lowest wave . Hence over airy plains , by crystal founts , That weave their glitt'ring waves with tuneful lapse , Among the sleeky pebbles , agate clear , Cerulean ophite , and the flow'ry vein Of orient jasper , pleas'd I move along , And vases boss'd , and huge inscriptive stones , And intermingling vines ; and figur'd nymphs , Flora's and Chloe's of delicious mould , Cheering the darkness ; and deep empty tombs , And dells , and mould'ring shrines , with old decay Rustick and green and wide-embow'ring shades , Shot from the crooked clefts of nodding tow'rs ; A solemn wilderness ! With error sweet , I wind the ling'ring step , where-e'er the path Mazy conducts me , which the vulgar foot O'er sculptures maim'd has made ; Anubis , Sphinx , Idols of antique guise , and horned Pan , Terrifick , monstrous shapes ! propost'rous gods , Of Fear and Ign'rance , by the sculptor's hand Hewn into form , and worship'd ; as ev'n now Blindly they worship at their breathless mouths Several statues of the Pagan gods have been converted into images of saints . In varied appellations : men to these ( From depth to depth in dark'ning error fall'n ) At length ascrib'd th' INAPPLICABLE NAME . How doth it please and fill the memory With deeds of brave renown , while on each hand Historick urns and breathing statues rise , And speaking busts ! Sweet Scipio , Marius stern , Pompey superb , the spirit-stirring form Of Caesar raptur'd with the charm of rule And boundless fame ; impatient for exploits , His eager eyes upcast , he soars in thought Above all height : and his own Brutus see , Desponding Brutus , dubious of the right , In evil days , of faith , of publick weal Solicitous and sad . Thy next regard Be Tully's graceful attitude ; uprais'd , His out-stretch'd arm he waves , in act to speak Before the silent masters of the world , And eloquence arrays him . There behold Prepar'd for combat in the front of war The pious brothers ; jealous Alba stands In fearful expectation of the strife , And youthful Rome intent : the kindred foes Fall on each other's neck in silent tears ; In sorrowful benevolence embrace Howe'er they soon unsheath the flashing sword , Their country calls to arms , now all in vain The mother clasps the knee , and ev'n the fair Now weeps in vain ; their country calls to arms . Such virtue Clelia , Cocles , Manlius , rous'd ; Such were the Fabii , Decii ; so inspir'd The Scipio's battled , and the Gracchi spoke : So rose the Roman state . Me now , of these Deep-musing , high ambitious thoughts inflame Greatly to serve my country , distant land , And build me virtuous fame ; nor shall the dust Of these fall'n piles with shew of sad decay Avert the good resolve , mean argument , The fate alone of matter . Now the brow We gain enraptur'd ; beauteously distinct From the Palatin hill one sees most of the remarkable antiquities . The num'rous portico's and domes upswell , With obeliscs and columns interpos'd , And pine , and fir , and oak : so fair a scene Sees not the dervise from the spiral tomb Of ancient Chammos , while his eye beholds Proud Memphis' reliques o'er th' Aegyptian plain : Nor hoary hermit from Hymettus ' brow , Though graceful Athens , in the vale beneath . Along the windings of the Muse's stream , Lucid Ilyssus , weeps her silent schools , And groves , unvisited by bard or sage . Amid the tow'ry ruins , huge , supreme , Th' enormous amphitheatre behold , Mountainous pile ! o'er whose capacious womb Pours the broad firmament its varied light ; While from the central floor the seats ascend Round above round , slow-wid'ning to the verge , A circuit vast and high ; nor less had held Imperial Rome , and her attendant realms , When drunk with rule she will'd the fierce delight , And op'd the gloomy caverns , whence out-rush'd Before th' innumerable shouting crowd The fiery , madded , tyrants of the wilds , Lions and tygers , wolves and elephants , And desp'rate men , more fell . Abhorr'd intent ! By frequent converse with familiar death , To kindle brutal daring apt for war ; To lock the breast , and steel th' obdurate heart , Amid the piercing cries of sore distress Impenetrable . But away thine eye ; Behold yon steepy cliff ; the modern pile Perchance may now delight , while that rever'd The Capitol . In ancient days , the page alone declares , Or narrow coin through dim caerulean rust . The fane was JOVE'S , its spacious golden roof , O'er thick-surrounding temples beaming wide , Appear'd , as when above the morning hills Half the round sun ascends ; and tow'r'd aloft , Sustain'd by columns huge , innumerous As cedars proud on Canaan's verdant heights Dark'ning their idols , when Astarte lur'd Too prosp'rous Israel from his living strength . And next regard yon venerable dome , Which virtuous Latium , with erroneous aim , Rais'd to her various deities , and nam'd Pantheon ; plain and round ; of this our world Majestick emblem ; with peculiar grace , Before its ample orb , projected stands The many-pillar'd portal ; noblest work Of human skill , here , curious architect , If thou assay'st , ambitious , to surpass Palladius , Angelus , or British Jones , On these fair walls extend the certain scale , And turn th' instructive compass : careful mark How far in hidden art , the noble plain Extends , and where the lovely forms commence Of flowing sculpture : nor neglect to note How range the taper columns , and what weight Their leafy brows sustain : fair Corinth first Boasted their order which Callimachus ( Reclining studious on Asopus' banks Beneath an urn of some lamented nymph ) Haply compos'd ; the urn with foliage curl'd Thinly conceal'd , the chapiter inform'd . See the tall obeliscs from Memphis old , One stone enormous each , or Thebes convey'd ; Like Albion's spires they rush into the skies . And there the temple , where the summon'd state The temple of Concord , where the senate met on Catiline's conspiracy . In deep of night conven'd : ev'n yet methinks The veh'ment orator in rent attire Persuasion pours , ambition sinks her crest ; And lo the villain , like a troubled sea , That tosses up her mire ! Ever disguis'd , Shall treason walk ? shall proud oppression yoke The neck of virtue ? Lo the wretch abash'd ; Self-betray'd Catiline ! O Liberty , Parent of happiness , celestial born ; When the first man became a living soul , His sacred genius thou ; be Britain's care ; With her secure , prolong thy lov'd retreat ; Thence bless mankind ; while yet among her sons , Ev'n yet there are , to shield thine equal laws , Whose bosoms kindle at the sacred names Of Cecil , Raleigh , Walsingham , and Drake . May others more delight in tuneful airs ; In masque and dance excell ; to sculptur'd stone Give with superior skill the living look ; More pompous piles erect , or pencil soft With warmer touch the visionary board : Be thou , thy nobler Britons teach to rule ; To check the ravage of tyrannick sway ; To quell the proud ; to spread the joys of peace And various blessings of ingenious trade . Be these our arts ; and ever may we guard , Ever defend thee with undaunted heart , Inestimable good ! who giv'st us Truth , Whose hand upleads to light , divinest Truth , Array'd in ev'ry charm : whose hand benign Teaches unwearied toil to cloath the fields , And on his various fruits inscribes the name Of Property : O nobly hail'd of old By thy majestick daughters , Judah fair , And Tyrus and Sidonia , lovely nymphs , And Libya bright , and all-enchanting Greece , Whose num'rous towns and isles , and peopled seas , Rejoic'd around her lyre ; th' heroic note ( Smit with sublime delight ) Ausonia caught , And plan'd imperial Rome . Thy hand benign Rear'd up her tow'ry battlements in strength ; Bent her wide bridges o'er the swelling stream Of Tuscan Tiber ; thine those solemn domes Devoted to the voice of humble pray'r ; And thine those piles undeck'd , capacious , vast The publick granaries . In days of dearth , where tender Charity Dispens'd her timely succours to the poor . Thine too those musically-falling founts To slake the clammy lip ; adown they fall , Musical ever ; while from yon blue hills Dim in the clouds , the radiant aqueducts Turn their innumerable arches o'er The spacious desert , bright'ning in the sun , Proud and more proud , in their august approach : High o'er irriguous vales and woods and towns , Glide the soft whispering waters in the wind , And here united pour their silver streams Among the figur'd rocks , in murm'ring falls , Musical ever . These thy beauteous works : And what beside felicity could tell Of human benefit : more late the rest ; At various times their turrets chanc'd to rise , When impious tyranny vouchsaf'd to smile . Behold by Tiber's flood , where modern Rome Modern Rome stands chiefly on the old Campus Martius . Couches beneath the ruins : there of old With arms and trophies gleam'd the field of Mars : There to their daily sports the noble youth Rush'd emulous ; to fling the pointed lance ; To vault the steed ; or with the kindling wheel In dusty whirlwinds sweep the trembling goal ; Or wrestling , cope with adverse swelling breasts , Strong , grappling arms , clos'd heads , and distant feet ; Or clash the lifted gauntlets : there they form'd Their ardent virtues : lo the bossy piles , The proud triumphal arches ; all their wars , Their conquests , honours , in the sculptures live . And see from every gate those ancient roads , With tombs high-verg'd , the solemn paths of Fame : Deserve they not regard ? O'er whose broad flints Such crowds have roll'd , so many storms of war ; Such trains of consuls , tribunes , sages , kings ; So many pomps ; so many wond'ring realms : Yet still through mountains pierc'd , o'er vallies rais'd , In even state , to distant seas around , They stretch their pavements . Lo the fane of Peace , Built by that prince , who to the trust of pow'r Begun by Vespasian , and finished by Titus . Was honest , the delight of human kind . Three nodding isles remain ; the rest an heap Of sand and weeds ; her shrines , her radiant roofs And columns proud , that from her spacious floor , As from a shining sea , majestick rose An hundred foot aloft , like stately beech Around the brim of Dion's glassy lake , Charming the mimick painter : on the walls Hung Salem's sacred spoils ; the golden board , And golden trumpets , now conceal'd , entomb'd By the sunk roof . O'er which in distant view Th' Etruscan mountains swell , with ruins crown'd Of ancient towns ; and blue Soracte spires , Wrapping his sides in tempests . Eastward hence , Nigh where the Cestian pyramid divides The tomb of Cestius , partly within , and partly without the walls . The mould'ring wall , behold yon fabrick huge , Whose dust the solemn antiquarian turns , And thence in broken sculptures cast abroad , Like Sybil's leaves , collects the builder's name Rejoic'd , and the green medals frequent found Doom Caracalla to perpetual fame : The stately pines , that spread their branches wide In the dun ruins of its ample halls , The baths of Caracalla , a vast ruin . Appear but tufts ; as may whate'er is high Sink in comparison , minute and vile . These , and unnumber'd , yet their brows uplift , Rent of their graces ; as Britannia's oaks On Merlin's mount , or Snowden's rugged sides , Stand in the clouds , their branches scatter'd round , After the tempest ; Mausoleums , Cirques , Naumachios , Forums ; Trajan's column tall , From whose low base the sculptures wind aloft , And lead through various toils , up the rough steep , Its hero to the skies : and his dark tow'r Nero's . Whose execrable hand the city fir'd , And while the dreadful conflagration blaz'd , Play'd to the flames ; and Phoebus' letter'd dome ; The Palatin library . And the rough reliques of Carinae's street , Where now the shepherd to his nibbling sheep Sits piping with his oaten reed ; as erst There pip'd the shepherd to his nibbling sheep , When th' humble roof Anchises' son explor'd Of good Evander , wealth-despising king , Amid the thickets : so revolves the scene ; So time ordains , who rolls the things of pride From dust again to dust . Behold that heap Of mould'ring urns ( their ashes blown away , Dust of the mighty ) the same story tell ; And at its base , from whence the serpent glides Down the green desert street , yon hoary monk Laments the same , the vision as he views , The solitary , silent , solemn scene , Where Caesars , heroes , peasants , hermits lie , Blended in dust together ; where the slave Rests from his labours ; where th' insulting proud Resigns his pow'r ; the miser drops his hoard ; Where human folly sleeps . There is a mood , ( I sing not to the vacant and the young ) There is a kindly mood of melancholy , That wings the soul , and points her to the skies ; When tribulation cloaths the child of man , When age descends with sorrow to the grave , 'Tis sweetly-soothing sympathy to pain , A gently wak'ning call to health and ease . How musical ! when all-devouring Time , Here sitting on his throne of ruins hoar , While winds and tempests sweep his various lyre , How sweet thy diapason , Melancholy ! Cool ev'ning comes ; the setting sun displays His visible great round between yon tow'rs , As through two shady cliffs ; away , my Muse , Though yet the prospect pleases , ever new In vast variety , and yet delight The many-figur'd sculptures of the path Half beauteous , half effac'd ; the traveller Such antique marbles to his native land Oft hence conveys ; and ev'ry realm and state With Rome's august remains , heroes and gods , Deck their long galleries and winding groves ; Yet miss we not th' innumerable thefts , Yet still profuse of graces teems the waste . Suffice it now th' Esquilian mount to reach With weary wing , and seek the sacred rests Of Maro's humble tenement ; a low Plain wall remains ; a little sun-gilt heap , Grotesque and wild ; the gourd and olive brown Weave the light roof ; the gourd and olive fan Their am'rous foliage , mingling with the vine , Who drops her purple clusters through the green . Here let me lie , with pleasing fancy sooth'd : Here flow'd his fountain ; here his laurels grew ; Here oft the meek good man , the lofty bard Fram'd the celestial song , or social walk'd With Horace and the ruler of the world ; Happy Augustus ! who so well inspir'd Could'st throw thy pomps and royalties aside , Attentive to the wise , the great of soul , And dignify thy mind . Thrice glorious days , Auspicious to the Muses ! then rever'd , Then hallow'd was the fount , or secret shade , Or open mountain , or whatever scene The poet chose to tune th' ennobling rhime Melodious ; ev'n the rugged sons of war , Ev'n the rude hinds rever'd the Poet's name : But now another age , alas ! is ours Yet will the Muse a little longer soar , Unless the clouds of care weigh down her wing , Since nature's stores are shut with cruel hand , And each aggrieves his brother ; since in vain The thirsty pilgrim at the fountain asks Th' o'erflowing wave Enough the plaint disdain . See'st thou yon fane ? ev'n now incessant time The temple of Romulus and Remus under mount Palatin . Sweeps her low mould'ring marbles to the dust ; And Phoebus' temple , nodding with its woods Threatens huge ruin o'er the small rotund . 'Twas there beneath a fig-tree's umbrage broad , Th' astonish'd swains with rev'rend awe beheld Thee , O Quirinus , and thy brother-twin , Pressing the teat within a monster's grasp Sportive ; while oft the gaunt and rugged wolf Turn'd her stretch'd neck and form'd your tender limbs : So taught of Jove , ev'n the fell savage fed Your sacred infancies , your virtues , toils , The conquests , glories , of th' Ausonian state , Wrapp'd in their secret seeds . Each kindred soul , Robust and stout , ye grapple to your hearts , And little Rome appears . Her cots arise , Green twigs of osier weave the slender walls , Green rushes spread the roofs ; and here and there Opens beneath the rock the gloomy cave . Elate with joy Etruscan Tiber views Her spreading scenes enamelling his waves , Her huts and hollow dells , and flocks and herds , And gath'ring swains ; and rolls his yellow car To Neptune's court with more majestick train . Her speedy growth alarm'd the states around Jealous , yet soon by wond'rous virtue won , They sink into her bosom . From the plough Rose her dictators ; fought , o'ercame , return'd , Yes , to the plough return'd , and hail'd their peers ; For then no private pomp , no houshold state , The publick only swell'd the gen'rous breast . Who has not heard the Fabian heroes sung ? Dentatus' scars , or Mutius' flaming hand ? How Manlius sav'd the Capitol ? the choice Of steady Regulus ? As yet they stood , Simple of life ; as yet seducing wealth Was unexplor'd , and shame of poverty Yet unimagin'd Shine not all the fields With various fruitage ? murmur not the brooks Along the flow'ry vallies ? They , content , Feasted at nature's hand , indelicate , Blithe , in their easy taste ; and only sought To know their duties ; that their only strife , Their gen'rous strife , and greatly to perform . They through all shapes of peril and of pain , Intent on honour , dar'd in thickest death To snatch the glorious deed . Nor Trebia quell'd , Nor Thrasymene , nor Cannae's bloody field , Their dauntless courage ; storming Hannibal In vain the thunder of the battle roll'd , The thunder of the battle they return'd Back on his Punick shores ; 'till Carthage fell , And danger fled afar . The city gleam'd With precious spoils : alas prosperity ! Ah baneful state ! yet ebb'd not all their strength In soft luxurious pleasures ; proud desire Of boundless sway , and fev'rish thirst of gold , Rous'd them again to battle . Beauteous Greece , Torn from her joys , in vain with languid arm Half rais'd her rusty shield ; nor could avail The sword of Dacia , nor the Parthian dart ; Nor yet the car of that fam'd British chief , Which seven brave years beneath the doubtful wing Of vict'ry , dreadful roll'd its griding wheels Over the bloody war : the Roman arms Triumph'd , 'till Fame was silent of their foes . And now the world unrivall'd they enjoy'd In proud security : the crested helm , The plated greave and corselet hung unbrac'd ; Nor