| |
| WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds | |
| O’er mutilated arches shed their seeds, | |
| And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold | |
| A new magnificence that vies with old, | |
| Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood | 5 |
| A votive column, spared by fire and flood; | |
| And, though the passions of man’s fretful race | |
| Have never ceased to eddy round its base, | |
| Not injured more by touch of meddling hands | |
| Than a lone obelisk, mid Nubian sands | 10 |
| Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save | |
| From death the memory of the good and brave. | |
| Historic figures round the shaft embost | |
| Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost: | |
| Still as he turns, the charmed spectator sees | 15 |
| Group winding after group, with dream-like ease; | |
| Triumphs in sun-bright gratitude displayed, | |
| Or softly stealing into modest shade. | |
| So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine | |
| Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine; | 20 |
| The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes | |
| Wide-spreading odors from her flowery wreaths. | |
| |
| Borne by the Muse from rills in shepherds’ ears | |
| Murmuring but one smooth story for all years, | |
| I gladly commune with the mind and heart | 25 |
| Of him who thus survives by classic art, | |
| His actions witness, venerate his mien, | |
| And study Trajan as by Pliny seen; | |
| Behold how fought the chief whose conquering sword | |
| Stretched far as earth might own a single lord; | 30 |
| In the delight of moral prudence schooled, | |
| How feelingly at home the sovereign ruled; | |
| Best of the good,—in pagan faith allied | |
| To more than man, by virtue deified. | |
| |
| Memorial pillar! mid the wrecks of time | 35 |
| Preserve thy charge with confidence sublime,— | |
| The exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome, | |
| Whence half the breathing world received its doom: | |
| Things that recoil from language; that, if shown | |
| By apter pencil, from the light had flown. | 40 |
| A pontiff, Trajan here the gods implores, | |
| There greets an embassy from Indian shores: | |
| Lo! he harangues his cohorts,—there the storm | |
| Of battle meets him in authentic form! | |
| Unharnessed, naked troops of Moorish horse | 45 |
| Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian force, | |
| To hoof and finger mailed;—yet, high or low, | |
| None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe; | |
| In every Roman, through all turns of fate, | |
| Is Roman dignity inviolate; | 50 |
| Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides, | |
| Supports, adorns, and over all presides; | |
| Distinguished only by inherent state | |
| From honored instruments that round him wait; | |
| Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test | 55 |
| Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest | |
| On aught by which another is deprest. | |
| Alas! that one thus disciplined could toil | |
| To enslave whole nations on their native soil; | |
| So emulous of Macedonian fame, | 60 |
| That, when his age was measured with his aim, | |
| He drooped, mid else unclouded victories, | |
| And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs. | |
| O weakness of the great! O folly of the wise! | |
| |
| Where now the haughty empire that was spread | 65 |
| With such fond hope? Her very speech is dead; | |
| Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies, | |
| And Trajan still, through various enterprise, | |
| Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies: | |
| Still are we present with the imperial chief, | 70 |
| Nor cease to gaze upon the bold relief, | |
| Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined, | |
| Becomes with all her years a vision of the mind. | |
| |
