A boundless sea of blood, and the wild air The kingly circlet rise, amid the gloom, O'er the dark wave, and straight are swallowed in its womb XIII. Those ages have no memory-but they left A record in the desert-columns strown On the waste sands, and statues fallen and cleft, Vast ruins, where the mountain's ribs of stone In the dark earth, where never breath has blown XIV. And tombs of monarchs to the clouds up-piled- Like the night-heaven, when clouds are black with rain. XV. And Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke; She left the down-trod nations in disdain, And flew to Greece, when Liberty awoke, New-born, amid those glorious vales, and broke Sceptre and chain with her fair youthful hands: As rocks are shivered in the thunder-stroke. And lo! in full-grown strength, an empire stands Of leagued and rival states, the wonder of the lands. XVI. Oh, Greece! thy flourishing cities were a spoil And crushed the helpless; thou didst make thy soil That yet shall read thy tale, will tremble at thy crimes. XVII. Yet there was that within thee which has saved Thy glory, and redeemed thy blotted name; On fame's unmouldering pillar, puts to shame Our chiller virtue; the high art to tame And the pure ray, that from thy bosom came, Far over many a land and age has shone, And mingles with the light that beams from God's own throne XVIII. And Rome-thy sterner, younger sister, she Yet her degenerate children sold the crown Of earth's wide kingdoms to a line of slaves; Guilt reigned, and wo with guilt, and plagues came down, Till the north broke its floodgates, and the waves Whelmed the degraded race, and weltered o'er their graves. XIX. Vainly that ray of brightness from above, The light of hope, the leading star of love, In that stern war of forms, a mockery and a name. XX. They triumphed, and less bloody rites were kept The well-fed inmates pattered prayer, and slept, Sheltering dark orgies that were shame to tell, And cowled and barefoot beggars swarmed the way, All in their convent weeds, of black, and white, and gray. XXI. Oh, sweetly the returning muses' strain Swelled over that famed stream, whose gentle tide Sweet, as when winter storms have ceased to chide, Send out wild hymns upon the scented air. Lo! to the smiling Arno's classic side The emulous nations of the west repair, And kindle their quenched urns, and drink fresh spirit there XXII. Still, Heaven deferred the hour ordained to rend From saintly rottenness the sacred stole ; And cowl and worshipped shrine could still defend The wretch with felon stains upon his soul; C And crimes were set to sale, and hard his dole Shielded by priestly power, and watched by priestly eyes XXIII. At last the earthquake came-the shock, that hurled XXIV. The spirit of that day is still awake, And spreads himself, and shall not sleep again; But through the idle mesh of power shall break Like billows o'er the Asian monarch's chain; Till men are filled with him, and feel how vain, Instead of the pure heart and innocent hands, Are all the proud and pompous modes to gain The smile of heaven ;—till a new age expands Its white and holy wings above the peaceful lands. |