Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN ITALY, 1837

XII. NEAR THE LAKE OF THRASYMENE

          WHEN here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,
          An earthquake, mingling with the battle's shock,
          Checked not its rage; unfelt the ground did rock,
          Sword dropped not, javelin kept its deadly aim.--
          Now all is sun-bright peace. Of that day's shame,
          Or glory, not a vestige seems to endure,
          Save in this Rill that took from blood the name
          Which yet it bears, sweet Stream! as crystal pure.
          So may all trace and sign of deeds aloof
          From the true guidance of humanity,                         10
          Thro' Time and Nature's influence, purify
          Their spirit; or, unless they for reproof
          Or warning serve, thus let them all, on ground
          That gave them being, vanish to a sound.


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