The Dying Gaul

the impart on the blosseum of the Capitol

He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube layThere were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother-he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday—i. 29.H. All this rushed with his blood-Shall he expire And unavenged?—-Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!

CXLII.

But here, where Murder breathed her bloody steam ;—
And here, where buzzing nations choked the ways,
And roared or murmured 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— ii. 30. H.
My voice sounds much-and fall the stars' faint rays
On the arena void-seats crushed-walls bowed-
And galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangely
loud.

CXLIII.

A Ruin-yet what Ruin! from its mass

Walls-palaces-half-cities, have been reared;

Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass,'

iv.

And marvel where the spoil could have appeared.

i. Slaughtered to make a Roman holiday.-[MS. M. erased.]

ii. Was death and life

iii. My voice is much

-[MS. M.]
.-[MS. M. erased.]

iv. Yet the colossal skeleton ye pass.—[MS. M. erased.]

VOL. II.

3 K

Hath it indeed been plundered, or but cleared?

Alas! developed, opens the decay,

When the colossal fabric's form is neared:

It will not bear the brightness of the day,

Which streams too much on all-years-man-have reft

away.

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,

1

And the low night-breeze waves along the air The garland-forest, which the gray walls wear,i Like laurels on the bald first Cæsar's head— 1 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: "When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;

2

i. The ivy-forest, which its walls doth wear.—[MS. M. erased.] ii. The Hero race who trod-the imperial dust ye tread.

[MS. M. erased.]

1. Suetonius [Lib. i. cap. xlv.] 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