CXL.

I see before me the Gladiator lie:

He leans upon his hand-his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually lowAnd through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him-he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch

who won.

CXLI.

He heard it, but he heeded not-his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;1
He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play,

1 Whether the wonderful statue which suggested this image be a laquearian gladiator, which, in spite of Winkelmann's criticism, has been stoutly maintained; or whether it be a Greek herald, as that great antiquary positively asserted ;* or whether it is to be thought a Spartan or barbarian shield-bearer, according to the opinion of his Italian editor; it must assuredly seem a copy of that masterpiece of Ctesilaus which represented "a wounded man dying, who perfectly expressed what there remained of life in him." Montfauçon and Maffei thought it the identical statue; but that statue was of bronze. The Gladiator was once in the Villa Ludovizi, and was bought by Clement XII. The right arm is an entire restoration of Michael Angelo.

There was their Dacian mother-he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday-1

All this rush'd with his blood-Shall he expire And unavenged? - Arise! ye Goths, and glut your

ire!

CXLII.

Buthere, 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, My voice sounds much and fall the stars' faint rays On the arena void-seats crush'd-walls bow'dAnd galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangely

loud.

CXLIII.

A ruin-yet what ruin! from its mass
Walls, palaces, half-cities, have been rear'd;
Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass,
And marvel where the spoil could have appear'd.
Hath it indeed been plunder'd, or but clear'd?
Alas! developed, opens the decay,

When the colossal fabric's form is near'd:

It will not bear the brightness of the day, [away. Which streams too much on all years, man, have reft

CXLIV.

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,

1, 2 See Appendix, "Historical Notes," Nos. XXIX. XXX.

Like laurels on the bald first Cæsar's head;' 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, Rome shall stand;2 When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; [land And when Rome falls-the world." From our own 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, [will. The world, the same wide den-of thieves, or what ye

CXLVI.

.3

Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime-
Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods,
From Jove to Jesus-spared and blest by time;
Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods
Arch, empire, each thing round thee, and man plods

1 Suetonius informs us that Julius Cæsar was particularly gratified by that decree of the senate which enabled him to wear a wreath of laurel on all occasions. He was anxious, not to show that he was the conqueror of the world, but to hide that he was bald. A stranger at Rome would hardly have guessed at the motive, nor should we without the help of the historian.

2 This is quoted in the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," as a proof that the Coliseum was entire, when seen by the Anglo-Saxon pilgrims at the end of the seventh, or the beginning of the eighth century. A notice on the Coliseum may be seen in the "Historical Illustrations," p. 263.

3 "Though plundered of all its brass, except the ring which was necessary to preserve the aperture above; though exposed to repeated fires; though sometimes flooded by the river, and always open to the rain, no monument of equal antiquity is so well preserved as this rotunda. It passed with little alteration from the pagan into the present worship; and so convenient were its niches for the Christian altar, that Michael Angelo, ever studious

His way through thorns to ashes-glorious dome!
Shalt thou not last? Time's scythe and tyrants' rods
Shiver upon thee-sanctuary and home

Of art and piety-Pantheon!-pride of Rome!

CXLVII.

Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts! Despoil'd yet perfect, with thy circle spreads A holiness appealing to all heartsTo art a model; and to him who treads Rome for the sake of ages, Glory sheds Her light through thy sole aperture; to those Who worship, here are altars for their beads; And they who feel for genius may repose [close.1 Their eyes on honour'd forms, whose busts around them

CXLVIII.

There is a dungeon, in whose dim drear light What do I gaze on? Nothing: Look again! Two forms are slowly shadow'd on my sightTwo insulated phantoms of the brain : It is not so; I see them full and plainAn old man, and a female young and fair, Fresh as a nursing mother, in whose vein The blood is nectar:--but what doth she there, With her unmantled neck, and bosom white and bare? of ancient beauty, introduced their design as a model in the Catholic church." - FORSYTH'S Italy, p. 137, 2d edit.

1 The Pantheon has been made a receptacle for the busts of modern great or, at least, distinguished men. The flood of light which once fell through the large orb above on the whole circle of divinities, now shines on a numerous assemblage of mortals, some one or two of whom have been almost deified by the veneration of their countrymen. For a notice of the Pantheon, see Historical Illustrations," p. 287.

2 This and the three next stanzas allude to the story of the Roman daughter, which is recalled to the traveller by the site, or pretended site, of that adventure, now shown at the church of St. Nicholas in Carcere. The difficulties attending the full belief of the tale are stated in "Historical Illustrations," p. 295.

CXLIX.

Full swells the deep pure fountain of young life, Where on the heart and from the heart we took Our first and sweetest nurture, when the wife, Blest into mother, in the innocent look, Or even the piping cry of lips that brook No pain and small suspense, a joy perceives Man knows not, when from out its cradled nook She sees her little bud put forth its leavesWhat may the fruit be yet?-I know not-Cain was

Eve's.

CL.

But here youth offers to old age the food,
The milk of his own gift:-it is her sire
To whom she renders back the debt of blood
Born with her birth. No; he shall not expire
While in those warm and lovely veins the fire
Of health and holy feeling can provide

Great Nature's Nile, whose deep stream rises

higher

Than Egypt's river:-from that gentle side Drink, drink and live, old man! Heaven's realm

holds no such tide.

CLI.

The starry fable of the milky way
Has not thy story's purity; it is
A constellation of a sweeter ray,
And sacred Nature triumphs more in this
Reverse of her decree, than in the abyss
Where sparkle distant worlds:-Oh, holiest

nurse!

No drop of that clear stream its way shall miss To thy sire's heart, replenishing its source With life as our freed souls rejoin the universe.