Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Italy: Vols. XI–XIII. 1876–79. | | | | Mola di Gaeta | | Lines | | Anna Brownell Jameson (1794–1860) |
| | Written at Mola di Gaeta, near the Ruins of Cicero’s Formian Villa |
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WE wandered through bright climes, and drank the beams | |
| Of southern suns: Elysian scenes we viewed, | |
| Such as we picture oft in those day-dreams | |
| That haunt the fancy in her wildest mood. | |
| Upon the sea-beat vestiges we stood, | 5 |
| Where Cicero dwelt, and watched the latest gleams | |
| Of rosy light steal o’er the azure flood; | |
| And memory conjured up most glowing themes, | |
| Filling the expanded heart, till it forgot | |
| Its own peculiar grief! O, if the dead | 10 |
| Yet haunt our earth, around this hallowed spot, | |
| Hovers sweet Tully’s spirit, since it fled | |
| The Roman Forum,—Forum now no more! | |
| Though cold and silent be the sands we tread, | |
| Still burns the “eloquent air,” and to the shore | 15 |
| There rolls no wave, and through the orange shade | |
| There sighs no breath, which doth not speak of him, | |
| The “Father of his Country”: and though dim | |
| Her day of empire, and her laurel crown | |
| Torn and defaced, and soiled with blood and tears, | 20 |
| And her imperial eagles trampled down, | |
| Still with a queenlike grace, Italia wears | |
| Her garland of bright names,—her coronal of stars, | |
| (Radiant memorials of departed worth!) | |
| That shed a glory round her pensive brow, | 25 |
| And make her still the worship of the earth. | | | |
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