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their prey:



Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre, The inheritors of unfulfilled renown Oh not of him, but of our joy Rose from their thrones, built beyond

naught mortal thought,

That ages, empires, and religions, there Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton Lie buried in the ravage they have Rose pale, — his solemn agony had not 400 wrought; Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought For such as he can lend, — they borrow And as he fell and as he lived and loved

not Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot, Glory from those who made the world Arose; and Lucan, by his death approved: Oblivion, as they rose, shrank like a thing And he is gathered to the kings of reproved.

thought Who waged contention with their time's

decay, And many more whose names

on earth

And of the past are all that cannot pass are dark,

away. But whose transmitted effuence cannot

die So long as fire outlives the parent spark, Go thou to Rome, at once the Paradise, Rose, robed in dazzling immortality. The grave, the city, and the wilderness; “Thou art become as one of us," they | And where its wrecks like shattered mouncry;

tains rise,

435 "It was for thee yon kingless sphere has And Aowering weeds and fragrant copses long





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