RIENZI TO THE SHE-WOLF OF ROME.
(1320.)
Among the shattered columns where I prowl,
Beneath the self-same stars that saw the rise
Of this dead Rome, I hear, mid the wind's sighs,
Thou iron-dugg'd nurse, the phantom of thy howl;
And, shuddering, I draw my scholar's cowl
Closer about me, while, before my eyes,
Half shadowy lictors, in their panoplies,
There where I know that there is but the owl.
Call'st thou thy cub? Here, Foster-Mother, here!
Where heavy brambles and the tufted grass
Invade the crumbling arches, tier by tier;
Where once the hundred-thousand-headed mass
Pressed forward with a heaven-rending cheer
To see a Scipio and his captives pass!
