n her ample lap;
But Rome is as the desert--where we steer
Stumbling o'er recollections; now we clap
Our hands, and cry "Eureka!" "it is clear"--
When but some false Mirage of ruin rises near.
LXXXII.
Alas! the lofty city! and alas!
The trebly hundred triumphs![463] and the day
When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass
The Conqueror's sword in bearing fame away!
Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay,[np]
And Livy's pictured page!--but these shall be
Her resurrection; all beside--decay.
Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see
That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free!
LXXXIII.
Oh, thou, whose chariot rolled on Fortune's wheel,
Triumphant Sylla![464] Thou, who didst subdue
Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel
The wrath of thy own wrongs, or reap the due
Of hoarded vengeance till thine Eagles flew
O'er prostrate Asia;--thou, who with thy frown
Annihilated senates;--Roman, too,
With all thy vices--for thou didst lay down
With an atoning smile a more than earthly crown,
LXXXIV.
Thy dictatorial wreath--couldst thou divine
To what would one day dwindle that which made
Thee more than mortal? and that so supine
By aught than Romans Rome should thus be laid?[nq]
She who was named Eternal, and arrayed
Her warriors but to conquer--she who veiled
Earth with her haughty shadow, and displayed,[nr]
Until the o'er-canopied horizon failed,
Her rushing wings--Oh! she who was Almighty hailed!
LXXXV.
Sylla was first of victors; but our own,[ns]
The sagest of usurpers, Cromwell!--he
Too swept off senates while he hewed the throne
Down to a block--immortal rebel! See
What crimes it costs to be a moment free,
And famous through all ages! but beneath
His fate the moral lurks of destiny;
His day of double victory and death
Beheld him win two realms, and, happier, yield his breath.[465]
LXXXVI.
The third of the same Moon whose former course
Had all but crowned him, on the selfsame day
Deposed him gently from his throne of force,
And laid him with the Earth's preceding clay.
And showed not Fortune thu
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