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(From A Letter from Italy)
IMMORTAL glories in my mind revive, | |
| And in my soul a thousand passions strive, | |
| When Rome’s exalted beauties I descry | |
| Magnificent in piles of ruin lie. | |
| An amphitheatre’s amazing height | 5 |
| Here fills my eye with terror and delight, | |
| That on its public shows unpeopled Rome, | |
| And held uncrowded nations in its womb: | |
| Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies: | |
| And here the proud triumphal arches rise, | 10 |
| Where the old Romans deathless acts displayed, | |
| Their base degenerate progeny upbraid: | |
| Whole rivers here forsake the fields below, | |
| And wondering at their height through airy channels flow. | |
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| Still to new scenes my wandering Muse retires, | 15 |
| And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires; | |
| Where the smooth chisel all its force has shown, | |
| And softened into flesh the rugged stone. | |
| In solemn silence, a majestic band, | |
| Heroes and gods and Roman consuls stand, | 20 |
| Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, | |
| And emperors in Parian marble frown; | |
| While the bright dames, to whom they humbly sued, | |
| Still show the charms that their proud hearts subdued. | |
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| Fain would I Raphael’s godlike art rehearse, | 25 |
| And show the immortal labors in my verse, | |
| Where from the mingled strength of shade and light | |
| A new creation rises to my sight, | |
| Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, | |
| So warm with life his blended colors glow. | 30 |
| From theme to theme with secret pleasure tost, | |
| Amidst the soft variety I ’m lost: | |
| Here pleasing airs my ravished soul confound | |
| With circling notes and labyrinths of sound; | |
| Here domes and temples rise in distant views, | 35 |
| And opening palaces invite my muse. * * * * * | |
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