 | Poems |  |
AT ROME—FROM THE HILL OF THE CAPITOL.
Look! for this hill has visions; hush, and seeTheir passage; hark to that still nearing shout,
That thunder-burst of joy; all Rome is out
To-day; to-day a holiday must be;
Pompeius triumphs. O'er that tossing sea
Of up-turned faces—o'er the surging rout,
See, the great conqueror, glory-girt about
With gifts and treasures rent from victory,
With monarchs manacled—great Asian kings,
Rules and dominions crumbled in Rome's ire.
Hark to the blare of brazen trumpets; things,
Unseen of Rome till now, her gazing tire,
Tower'd elephants and spoils of which earth rings.
Can grander vision, friends, your thought desire?
| Poems | |