No More Learning

Was she a matron of Cornelia's mien,
Or the light air of Egypt's graceful Queen,
Profuse of joy--or 'gainst it did she war,
Inveterate in virtue? Did she lean
To the soft side of the heart, or wisely bar
Love from amongst her griefs? --for such the affections are. [oc]

CII.

Perchance she died in youth--it may be, bowed
With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb
That weighed upon her gentle dust: a cloud
Might gather o'er her beauty, and a gloom
In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom
Heaven gives its favourites[481]--early death--yet shed
A sunset charm around her, and illume
With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead,
Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like red.

CIII.

Perchance she died in age--surviving all,
Charms--kindred--children--with the silver gray
On her long tresses, which might yet recall,
It may be, still a something of the day
When they were braided, and her proud array
And lovely form were envied, praised, and eyed
By Rome--But whither would Conjecture stray? [482]
Thus much alone we know--Metella died,
The wealthiest Roman's wife: Behold his love or pride!

CIV.

I know not why--but standing thus by thee
It seems as if I had thine inmate known,
Thou Tomb! and other days come back on me
With recollected music, though the tone
Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groan
Of dying thunder on the distant wind;
Yet could I seat me by this ivied stone
Till I had bodied forth the heated mind[od]
Forms from the floating wreck which Ruin leaves behind:

CV.

And from the planks, far shattered o'er the rocks,
Built me a little bark of hope, once more
To battle with the Ocean and the shocks
Of the loud breakers, and the ceaseless roar
Which rushes on the solitary shore
Where all lies foundered that was ever dear:
But could I gather from the wave-worn store
Enough for my rude boat, where should I steer?
There woos no home, nor hope, nor life, save what is here. [oe]

CVI.

Then let the Winds howl on!
their harmony
Shall henceforth be my music, and the Night
The sound shall temper with the owlets' cry,
As I now hear them, in the fading light
Dim o'er the bird of darkness' native site,
Answering each other on the Palatine,
With their large eyes, all glistening gray and bright,
And sailing pinions. --Upon such a shrine
What are our petty griefs? --let me not number mine.

CVII.

Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown[483]
Matted and massed together--hillocks heaped
On what were chambers--arch crushed, column strown
In fragments--choked up vaults, and frescos steeped
In subterranean damps, where the owl peeped,[of]
Deeming it midnight:--Temples--Baths--or Halls?
Pronounce who can: for all that Learning reaped
From her research hath been, that these are walls--
Behold the Imperial Mount! 'tis thus the Mighty falls. [484]

CVIII.

There is the moral of all human tales;[485]
'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past,
First Freedom, and then Glory--when that fails,
Wealth--Vice--Corruption,--Barbarism at last.
And History, with all her volumes vast,
Hath but _one_ page,--'tis better written here,
Where gorgeous Tyranny hath thus amassed
All treasures, all delights, that Eye or Ear,
Heart, Soul could seek--Tongue ask--Away with words! draw near,

CIX.

Admire--exult--despise--laugh--weep,--for here
There is such matter for all feeling:--Man! [og]
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear,
Ages and Realms are crowded in this span,
This mountain, whose obliterated plan
The pyramid of Empires pinnacled,
Of Glory's gewgaws shining in the van[oh]
Till the Sun's rays with added flame were filled!
Where are its golden roofs? [486] where those who dared to build?

CX.