The fool of false dominion--and a kind Of b.a.s.t.a.r.d Caesar, following him of old With steps unequal; for the Roman"s mind Was modelled in a less terrestrial mould,[26.H.]
With pa.s.sions fiercer, yet a judgment cold,[470]
And an immortal instinct which redeemed The frailties of a heart so soft, yet bold-- Alcides with the distaff now he seemed At Cleopatra"s feet,--and now himself he beamed,
XCI.
And came--and saw--and conquered![471] But the man Who would have tamed his Eagles down to flee, Like a trained falcon, in the Gallic van,[472]
Which he, in sooth, long led to Victory, With a deaf heart which never seemed to be A listener to itself, was strangely framed; With but one weakest weakness--Vanity--[nt]
Coquettish in ambition--still he aimed-- And what? can he avouch, or answer what he claimed?[nu]
XCII.
And would be all or nothing--nor could wait For the sure grave to level him; few years Had fixed him with the Caesars in his fate On whom we tread: For _this_ the conqueror rears The Arch of Triumph! and for this the tears And blood of earth flow on as they have flowed, An universal Deluge, which appears Without an Ark for wretched Man"s abode, And ebbs but to reflow!--Renew thy rainbow, G.o.d![nv]
XCIII.
What from this barren being do we reap?[473]
Our senses narrow, and our reason frail, Life short, and truth a gem which loves the deep, And all things weighed in Custom"s falsest scale;[474]
Opinion an Omnipotence,--whose veil Mantles the earth with darkness, until right And wrong are accidents, and Men grow pale Lest their own judgments should become too bright, And their free thoughts be crimes, and Earth have too much light.
XCIV.
And thus they plod in sluggish misery,[nw]
Rotting from sire to son, and age to age,[475]
Proud of their trampled nature, and so die,[nx]
Bequeathing their hereditary rage To the new race of inborn slaves, who wage War for their chains, and rather than be free, Bleed gladiator-like, and still engage Within the same Arena where they see Their fellows fall before, like leaves of the same tree.
XCV.
I speak not of men"s creeds--they rest between Man and his Maker--but of things allowed, Averred, and known, and daily, hourly seen-- The yoke that is upon us doubly bowed, And the intent of Tyranny avowed, The edict of Earth"s rulers, who are grown The apes of him who humbled once the proud, And shook them from their slumbers on the throne; Too glorious, were this all his mighty arm had done.
XCVI.
Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, And Freedom find no Champion and no Child[476]
Such as Columbia saw arise when she Sprung forth a Pallas, armed and undefined?
Or must such minds be nourished in the wild, Deep in the unpruned forest, "midst the roar[ny]
Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled On infant Washington? Has Earth no more Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such sh.o.r.e?
XCVII.
But France got drunk with blood to vomit crime;[nz]
And fatal have her Saturnalia been[oa]
To Freedom"s cause, in every age and clime; Because the deadly days which we have seen, And vile Ambition, that built up between Man and his hopes an adamantine wall, And the base pageant[477] last upon the scene, Are grown the pretext for the eternal thrall Which nips Life"s tree, and dooms Man"s worst--his second fall.[478]
XCVIII.
Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm _against_ the wind;[479]
Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the Tempest leaves behind; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, Chopped by the axe, looks rough and little worth, But the sap lasts,--and still the seed we find Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North; So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.
XCIX.
There is a stern round tower of other days[480]
Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone, Such as an army"s baffled strength delays, Standing with half its battlements alone, And with two thousand years of ivy grown, The garland of Eternity, where wave The green leaves over all by Time o"erthrown;-- What was this tower of strength? within its cave What treasure lay so locked, so hid?--A woman"s grave.[ob]
C.
But who was she, the Lady of the dead, Tombed in a palace? Was she chaste and fair?
Worthy a king"s--or more--a Roman"s bed?
What race of Chiefs and Heroes did she bear?
What daughter of her beauties was the heir?
How lived--how loved--how died she? Was she not So honoured--and conspicuously there, Where meaner relics must not dare to rot, Placed to commemorate a more than mortal lot?
CI.
Was she as those who love their lords, or they Who love the lords of others? such have been Even in the olden time, Rome"s annals say.
Was she a matron of Cornelia"s mien, Or the light air of Egypt"s graceful Queen, Profuse of joy--or "gainst it did she war, Inveterate in virtue? Did she lean To the soft side of the heart, or wisely bar Love from amongst her griefs?--for such the affections are.[oc]
CII.
Perchance she died in youth--it may be, bowed With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb That weighed upon her gentle dust: a cloud Might gather o"er her beauty, and a gloom In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom Heaven gives its favourites[481]--early death--yet shed A sunset charm around her, and illume With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead, Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like red.
CIII.
Perchance she died in age--surviving all, Charms--kindred--children--with the silver gray On her long tresses, which might yet recall, It may be, still a something of the day When they were braided, and her proud array And lovely form were envied, praised, and eyed By Rome--But whither would Conjecture stray?[482]
Thus much alone we know--Metella died, The wealthiest Roman"s wife: Behold his love or pride!
CIV.
I know not why--but standing thus by thee It seems as if I had thine inmate known, Thou Tomb! and other days come back on me With recollected music, though the tone Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groan Of dying thunder on the distant wind; Yet could I seat me by this ivied stone Till I had bodied forth the heated mind[od]
Forms from the floating wreck which Ruin leaves behind:
CV.
And from the planks, far shattered 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 sh.o.r.e Where all lies foundered 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.[oe]
CVI.
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 mine.
CVII.
Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown[483]
Matted and ma.s.sed together--hillocks heaped On what were chambers--arch crushed, column strown In fragments--choked up vaults, and frescos steeped In subterranean damps, where the owl peeped,[of]
Deeming it midnight:--Temples--Baths--or Halls?
p.r.o.nounce who can: for all that Learning reaped From her research hath been, that these are walls-- Behold the Imperial Mount! "tis thus the Mighty falls.[484]
CVIII.
There is the moral of all human tales;[485]