OLD AND NEW ROME
Still, as we saunter down the crowded street,
On our own thoughts intent, and plans and pleasures,
For miles and miles beneath our idle feet,
Rome buries from the day yet unknown treasures.
The whole world's alphabet, in every line
Some stirring page of history she recalls,--
Her Alpha is the Prison Mamertine,
Her Omega, St. Paul's, without the walls.
Above, beneath, around, she weaves her spells,
And ruder hands unweave them all in vain:
Who once within her fascination dwells,
Leaves her with but one thought--to come again.
So cast thy obol into Trevi's fountain--
Drink of its waters, and, returning home,
Pray that by land or sea, by lake or mountain,
"All roads alike may lead at last to Rome."
--Herman Merivale
THE FALL OF ROME
Rome ruled in all her matchless pride,
Queen of the world, an empire-state;
Her eagles conquered far and wide;
Her word was law, her will was fate.
Within her immemorial walls
The temples of the gods looked down;
Her forum echoed with the calls
To greater conquest and renown.
All wealth, all splendor, and all might
The world could give, before her lay;
She dreamed not there could come a night
To dim the glory of her day.
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