| |
| HOW fair the scene! the sunny smiles of day | |
| Flash o’er the wave in glad Sorrento’s bay; | |
| Far, far along mild Sarno’s glancing stream | |
| The fruits and flowers of golden summer beam, | |
| And cheer, with brightening hues, the lonely gloom | 5 |
| That shrouds yon silent City of the Tomb! | |
| Yes, sad Pompeii! Time’s deep shadows fall | |
| On every ruined arch and broken wall; | |
| But Nature smiles as in thy happiest hour, | |
| And decks thy lowly rest with many a flower. | 10 |
| Around, above, in blended beauty shine | |
| The graceful poplar and the clasping vine; | |
| Still the young violet, in her chalice blue, | |
| Bears to the lip of Morn her votive dew; | |
| Still the green laurel springs to life the while, | 15 |
| Beneath her own Apollo’s golden smile; | |
| And o’er thy fallen beauties beams on high | |
| The glory of the heavens,—Italia’s sky! * * * * * | |
| Lovely in ruin, graceful in decay, | |
| The silent city rears her walls of gray: | 20 |
| The clasping ivy hangs her faithful shade, | |
| As if to hide the wreck that time had made; | |
| The shattered column on the lonely ground | |
| Is glittering still, with fresh acanthus crowned; | |
| And where her Parian rival moulders near, | 25 |
| The drooping lily pours her softest tear! | |
| How sadly sweet with pensive step to roam | |
| Amid the ruined wall, the tottering dome! | |
| The path just worn by human feet is here; | |
| Their echoes almost reach the listening ear: | 30 |
| The marble halls with rich mosaic drest; | |
| The portal wide that wooes the lingering guest: | |
| Altars, with fresh and living chaplets crowned, | |
| From those wild flowers that spring fantastic round, | |
| The unfinished painting, and the pallet nigh, | 35 |
| Whose added hues must fairer charms supply;— | |
| These mingle here, until the unconscious feet | |
| Roam on, intent some gathering crowd to meet; | |
| And cheated Fancy, in her dreamy mood, | |
| Will half forget that it is solitude! | 40 |
| Yes, all is solitude! fear not to tread, | |
| Through gates unwatched, the City of the Dead, | |
| Explore with pausing step the unpeopled path, | |
| View the proud hall, survey the stately bath, | |
| Where swelling roofs their noblest shelter raise; | 45 |
| Enter! voice shall check the intruder’s gaze! | |
| See! the dread legion’s peaceful home is here, | |
| The signs of martial life are scattered near. | |
| Yon helm, unclasped to ease some warrior’s brow, | |
| The sword his weary arm resigned but now, | 50 |
| The unfinished sentence traced along the wall, | |
| Broke by the hoarse Centurion’s startling call: | |
| Hark! did their sounding tramp re-echo round? | |
| Or breathed the hollow gale that fancied sound? | |
| Behold! where mid yon fane, so long divine, | 55 |
| Sad Isis mourns her desolated shrine! | |
| Will none the mellow reed’s soft music breathe, | |
| Or twine from yonder flowers the victim’s wreath? | |
| None to yon altar lead with suppliant strain | |
| The milk-white monarch of the herd again? | 60 |
| All, all is mute! save sadly answering nigh | |
| The night-bird’s shriek, the shrill cicada’s cry. | |
| Yet may you trace along the furrowed street | |
| The chariot’s track, the print of frequent feet; | |
| The gate unclosed, as if by recent hand; | 65 |
| The hearth, where yet the guardian Lares stand; | |
| Still on the walls the words of welcome shine, | |
| And ready vases proffer joyous wine: | |
| But where the hum of men? the sounds of life? | |
| The temple’s pageant, and the forum’s strife? | 70 |
| The forms and voices such as should belong | |
| To that bright clime, the land of love and song? | |
| How sadly echoing to the stranger’s tread, | |
| These walls respond, like voices from the dead! | |
| And sadder traces, darker scenes are there, | 75 |
| Tales of the tomb, and records of despair; | |
| In death’s chill grasp unconscious arms enfold | |
| The fatal burden of their cherished gold; | |
| Here, wasted relics, as in mockery, dwell | |
| Beside some treasure loved in life too well; | 80 |
| There, faithful hearts have mouldered side by side, | |
| And hands are clasped that death could not divide! | |
| None, none shall tell that hour of fearful strife, | |
| When death must share the consciousness of life; | |
| When sullen Famine, slow Despair consume | 85 |
| The living tenants of the massive tomb; | |
| Long could they hear, above the incumbent plain, | |
| The music of the breeze awake again, | |
| The wave’s deep echo on the distant shore, | |
| And murmuring streams, that they should see no more! | 90 |
| Away! dread scene! and o’er the harrowing view | |
| Let night’s dim shadows fling their darkest hue! * * * * * | |
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