| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (18331908). An American Anthology, 17871900. 1900. |
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| 428. On the Campagna |
| | | By Elizabeth Stoddard |
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| STOP on the Appian Way, | |
| In the Roman Campagna; | |
| Stop at my tomb, | |
| The tomb of Cecilia Metella. | |
| To-day as you see it | 5 |
| Alaric saw it, ages ago, | |
| When he, with his pale-visaged Goths, | |
| Sat at the gates of Rome, | |
| Reading his Runic shield. | |
| Odin, thy curse remains! | 10 |
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| Beneath these battlements | |
| My bones were stirred with Roman pride, | |
| Though centuries before my Romans died: | |
| Now my bones are dust; the Goths are dust. | |
| The river-bed is dry where sleeps the king, | 15 |
| My tomb remains! | |
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| When Rome commanded the earth | |
| Great were the Metelli: | |
| I was Metellus wife; | |
| I loved himand I died. | 20 |
| Then with slow patience built he this memorial: | |
| Each century marks his love. | |
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| Pass by on the Appian Way | |
| The tomb of Cecilia Metella; | |
| Wild shepherds alone seek its shelter, | 25 |
| Wild buffaloes tramp at its base. | |
| Deep is its desolation, | |
| Deep as the shadow of Rome! | |
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