# The Poems of John Dyer/The Ruins of Rome

THE RUINS OF ROME
"Aspice murorum moles, præruptaque saxa, Obrutaque horrenti vasta theatra situ: Hæc sunt Roma. Viden' velut ipsa cadavera tantæ Urbis adhuc spirent imperiosa minas?"—Janus Vitalis.
["Look at all the walls, the stones dislodged, the vast theatres brought low by the power of decay. That is Rome. And do you see how the very corpse of such a city is still imperial and seems to offer menaces?"]
Enough of Grongar, and the shady dales Of winding Towy, Merlin's fabled haunt, I sung inglorious. Now the love of arts, And what in metal or in stone remains Of proud Antiquity, thro' various realms 5 And various languages and ages fam'd, Bears me remote o'er Gallia's woody bounds, O'er the cloud-piercing Alps remote, beyond The vale of Arno, purpled with the vine, Beyond the Umbrian and Etruscan hills,10 To Latium's wide champaign, forlorn and waste, Where yellow Tiber his neglected wave Mournfully rolls. Yet once again, my Muse! Yet once again, and soar a loftier flight; Lo! the resistless theme, imperial Rome. 15 Fall'n, fall'n, a silent heap! her heroes all Sunk in their urns; behold the pride of pomp,
The throne of nations, fall'n! obscur'd in dust; Ev'n yet majestical: the solemn scene Elates the soul, while now the rising sun 20 Flames on the ruins in the purer air Tow'ring aloft upon the glittering plain, Like broken rocks, a vast circumference! Rent palaces, crush'd columns, rifled moles, Fanes roll'd on fanes, and tombs on bury'd tombs! 25 Deep lies in dust the Theban obelisk Immense along the waste; minuter art, Gliconian forms, or Phidian, subtly fair, O'erwhelming; as th' immense leviathan The finny brood, when near Ierne's shore 30 Outstretch'd, unwieldy, his island length appears Above the foamy flood. Globose and huge, Gray-mouldering temples swell, and wide o'ercast The solitary landscape, hills and woods, And boundless wilds; while the vine-mantled brows 35 The pendent goats unveil, regardless they Of hourly peril, tho' the clefted domes Tremble to every wind. The pilgrim oft, At dead of night, 'mid his oraison hears Aghast the voice of Time, disparting tow'rs,40 Tumbling all precipitate down-dash'd, Rattling around, loud thund'ring to the moon; While murmurs soothe each awful interval Of ever-falling waters; shrouded Nile, Eridanus, and Tiber with his twins,45 And palmy Euphrates: they with dropping locks Hang o'er their urns, and mournfully among The plaintive echoing ruins pour their streams. Yet here, advent'rous in the sacred search Of ancient arts, the delicate of mind,50 Curious and modest, from all climes resort, Grateful society! with these I raise
The toilsome step up the proud Palatin, Thro' spiry cypress groves, and tow'ring pine, Waving aloft o'er the big ruin's brows,55 On num'rous arches rear'd; and, frequent stopp'd, The sunk ground startles me with dreadful chasm, Breathing forth darkness from the vast profound Of aisles and halls within the mountain's womb. Nor these the nether works; all these beneath,60 And all beneath the vales and hills around, Extend the cavern'd sewers, massy, firm, As the Sibylline grot beside the dead Lake of Avernus; such the sewers huge, Whither the great Tarquinian genius dooms65 Each wave impure; and proud with added rains, Hark how the mighty billows lash their vaults, And thunder! how they heave their rocks in vain! Tho' now incessant time has roll'd around A thousand winters o'er the changeful world,70 And yet a thousand since, th' indignant floods Roar loud in their firm bounds, and dash and swell In vain, convey'd to Tiber's lowest wave. Hence over airy plains, by crystal founts, That weave their glitt'ring wave with tuneful lapse75 Among the sleeky pebbles, agate clear, Cerulean ophite, and the flow'ry vein Of orient jasper, pleas'd I move along, And vases boss'd, and huge inscriptive stones, And intermingling vines, and figur'd nymphs,80 Floras and Chloes of delicious mould, Cheering the darkness; and deep empty tombs, And dells, and mould'ring shrines, with old decay Rustic and green, and wide-em bow'ring shades, Shot from the crooked clefts of nodding tow'rs; 85 A solemn wilderness! with error sweet I wind the lingering step, where'er the path
Mazy conducts me, which the vulgar foot O'er sculptures maim'd has made; Anubis, Sphinx, Idols of antique guise, and horned Pan, 90 Terrific, monstrous shapes! prepost'rous gods Of fear and ignorance, by the sculptor's hand Hewn into form, and worshipp'd; as ev'n now Blindly they worship at their breathless mouths In varied appellations: men to these 95 (From depth to depth in dark'ning error fall'n) At length ascrib'd th' Inapplicable Name. How doth it please and fill the memory With deeds of brave renown, while on each hand Historic urns and breathing statues rise, 100 And speaking busts! Sweet Scipio, Marius stern, Pompey superb, the spirit-stirring form Of Caesar, raptur'd with the charm of rule And boundless fame; impatient for exploits, His eager eyes upcast, he soars in thought 105 Above all height: and his own Brutus see, Desponding Brutus! dubious of the right, In evil days of faith, of public weal, Solicitous and sad. Thy next regard Be Tully's graceful attitude; uprais'd,110 His outstretch'd arm he waves, in act to speak Before the silent masters of the world, And eloquence arrays him. There behold, Prepar'd for combat in the front of war, The pious brothers; jealous Alba stands 115 In fearful expectation of the strife, And youthful Rome intent: the kindred foes Fall on each other's neck in silent tears; In sorrowful benevolence embrace— Howe'er they soon unsheath the flashing sword 120 Their country calls to arms; now all in vain The mother clasps the knee, and ev'n the fair
Now weeps in vain; their country calls to arms. Such virtue Clelia, Cocles, Manlius, rouz'd; Such were the Fabii, Decii; so inspir'd125 The Scipios battled, and the Gracchi spoke: So rose the Roman state. Me now, of these Deep musing, high ambitious thoughts inflame Greatly to serve my country, distant land, And build me virtuous fame; nor shall the dust130 Of these fall'n piles with show of sad decay Avert the good resolve, mean argument, The fate alone of matter. Now the brow We gain enraptur'd; beauteously distinct The num'rous porticoes and domes upswell,135 With obelisks and columns interpos'd, And pine, and fir, and oak; so fair a scene Sees not the dervise from the spiral tomb Of ancient Chammos, while his eye beholds Proud Memphis' relics o'er th' Egyptian plain;140 Nor hoary hermit from Hymettus' brow, Tho' graceful Athens in the vale beneath. Along the windings of the Muse's stream, Lucid Ilyssus weeps her silent schools And groves, unvisited by bard or sage.145 Amid the tow'ry ruins, huge, supreme, Th' enormous amphitheatre behold, Mountainous pile! o'er whose capacious womb Pours the broad firmament its vary'd light, While from the central floor the seats ascend150 Round above round, slow wid'ning to the verge, A circuit vast and high; nor less had held Imperial Rome and her attendant realms, When, drunk with rule, she will'd the fierce delight, And op'd the gloomy caverns, whence out rush'd,155 Before th' innumerable shouting crowd, The fiery madded tyrants of the wilds,
Lions and tigers, wolves and elephants, And desp'rate men, more fell. Abhorr'd intent! By frequent converse with familiar death 160 To kindle brutal daring apt for war; To lock the breast, and steel th' obdurate heart, Amid the piercing cries of sore distress Impenetrable. But away thine eye! Behold yon' steepy cliff; the modern pile165 Perchance may now delight, while that rever'd In ancient days the page alone declares, Or narrow coin thro' dim cerulean rust. The fane was Jove's, its spacious golden roof, O'er thick-surrounding temples beaming wide,170 Appear'd, as when above the morning hills Half the round sun ascends, and tower'd aloft, Sustain'd by columns huge, innumerous As cedars proud on Canaan's verdant heights Dark'ning their idols, when Astarte lur'd175 Too-prosp'rous Israel from his living Strength. And next regard yon' venerable dome Which virtuous Latium, with erroneous aim, Rais'd to her various deities, and nam'd Pantheon; plain and round, of this our world180 Majestic emblem; with peculiar grace Before its ample orb projected stands The many-pillar'd portal; noblest work Of human skill! Here, curious Architect, If thou essay'st, ambitious, to surpass185 Palladius, Angelus, or British Jones, On these fair walls extend the certain scale, And turn th' instructive compass: careful mark How far in hidden art the noble plan Extends, and where the lovely forms commence190 Of flowing sculpture; nor neglect to note How range the taper columns, and what weight
Their leafy brows sustain; fair Corinth first Boasted their order, which Callimachus (Reclining studious on Asopus' banks 195 Beneath an urn of some lamented nymph) Haply compos'd; the urn with foliage curl'd Thinly conceal'd the chapiter inform'd. See the tall obelisks from Memphis old, One stone enormous each, or Thebes, convey'd;200 Like Albion's spires they rush into the skies: And there the temple where the summon'd state In deep of night conven'd; ev'n yet methinks The veh'ment orator in rent attire Persuasion pours; Ambition sinks her crest; 205 And, lo! the villain, like a troubled sea, That tosses up her mire! Ever disguis'd Shall Treason walk? shall proud Oppression yoke The neck of Virtue? Lo! the wretch abash'd, Self-betray'd Catiline! O Liberty! 210 Parent of happiness, celestial born; When the first man became a living soul His sacred genius thou: be Britain's care; With her secure prolong thy lov'd retreat; Thence bless mankind; while yet among her sons, 215 Ev'n yet there are, to shield thine equal laws, Whose bosoms kindle at the sacred names Of Cecil, Raleigh, Walsingham, and Drake. May others more delight in tuneful airs, In mask and dance excel; to sculptur'd stone 220 Give with superior skill the living look; More pompous piles erect, or pencil soft With warmer touch the visionary board: But thou thy nobler Britons teach to rule, To check the ravage of tyrannic sway, 2255 To quell the proud, to spread the joys of peace, And various blessings of ingenious trade.
Be these our arts; and ever may we guard, Ever defend, thee with undaunted heart. Inestimable good! who giv'st us Truth, 230 Whose hand upleads to light, divinest Truth! Array'd in ev'ry charm; whose hand benign Teaches unwear'd Toil to clothe the fields, And on his various fruits inscribes the name Of Property: O nobly hail'd of old 235 By thy majestic daughters, Judah fair, And Tyrus and Sidonia, lovely nymphs, And Libya bright, and all-enchanting Greece, Whose num'rous towns, and isles, and peopled seas, Rejoic'd around her lyre; th' heroic note 240 (Smit with sublime delight) Ausonia caught, And plann'd imperial Rome. Thy hand benign Rear'd up her tow'ry battlements in strength, Bent her wide bridges o'er the swelling stream Of Tuscan Tiber; thine those solemn domes 245 Devoted to the voice of humbler pray'r; And thine those piles undeck'd, capacious, vast, In days of dearth, where tender Charity Dispens'd her timely succours to the poor. Thine, too, those musically-falling founts, 250 To slake the clammy lip; adown they fall, Musical ever, while from yon' blue hills, Dim in the clouds, the radiant aqueducts Turn their innumerable arches o'er The spacious desert, bright'ning in the sun, 255 Proud and more proud in their august approach: High o'er irriguous vales, and woods, and towns, Glide the soft-whisp'ring waters in the wind, And, here united, pour their silver streams Among the figur'd rocks, in murm'ring falls,260 Musical ever. These thy beauteous works; And what beside felicity could tell
Of human benefit: more late the rest; At various times their turrets chanc'd to rise, When impious Tyranny vouchsaf'd to smile. 265 Behold by Tiber's flood, where modern Rome Couches beneath the ruins; there of old With arms and trophies gleam'd the Field of Mars: There to their daily sports the noble youth Rush'd emulous, to fling the pointed lance, 270 To vault the steed, or with the kindling wheel In dusty whirlwinds sweep the trembling goal; Or, wrestling, cope, with adverse swelling breasts, Strong grappling arms, close heads, and distant feet; Or clash the lifted gauntlets: there they form'd 275 Their ardent virtues: in the bossy piles, The proud triumphal arches, all their wars, Their conquests, honours, in the sculptures live. And see from ev'ry gate those ancient roads, With tombs high verg'd, the solemn paths of Fame! 280 Deserve they not regard? o'er whose broad flints Such crowds have roll'd, so many storms of war, So many pomps, so many wond'ring realms: Yet still thro' mountains pierc'd, o'er vallies rais'd, In even state to distant seas around 285 They stretch their pavements. Lo! the fane of Peace Built by that prince who to the trust of pow'r Was honest, the delight of human-kind. Three nodding aisles remain, the rest an heap Of sand and weeds; her shrines, her radiant roof 290 And columns proud, that from her spacious floor, As from a shining sea, majestic rose An hundred foot aloft, like stately beech Around the brim of Dion's glassy lake, Charming the mimic painter: on the walls 295 Hung Salem's sacred spoils; the golden board And golden trumpets, now conceal'd, entomb'd
By the sunk roof.—O'er which, in distant view, Th' Etruscan mountains swell, with ruins crown'd Of ancient towns; and blue Soracte spires, 300 Wrapping his sides in tempests. Eastward hence, Nigh where the Cestian pyramid divides The mould'ring wall, behold yon' fabric huge, Whose dust the solemn antiquarian turns, And thence, in broken sculptures cast abroad, 305 Like Sibyl's leaves, collects the builder's name Rejoic'd, and the green medals frequent found Doom Caracalla to perpetual fame: The stately pines, that spread their branches wide In the dun ruins of its ample halls, 310 Appear but tufts, as may whate'er is high Sink in comparison, minute and vile. These and unnumber'd, yet their brows uplift, Rent of their graces; as Britannia's oaks On Merlin's mount, or Snowden's rugged sides, 315 Stand in the clouds, their branches scatter'd round After the tempest; Mausoleums, Cirques, Naumachios, Forums; Trajan's column tall, From whose low base the sculptures wind aloft, And lead thro' various toils up the rough steep 320 Its hero to the skies; and his dark tow'r Whose execrable hand the City fir'd, And while the dreadful conflagration blaz'd Play'd to the flames; and Phœbus' letter'd dome; And the rough relics of Carinas's street, 325 Where now the shepherd to his nibbling sheep Sits piping with his oaten reed, as erst There pip'd the shepherd to his nibbling sheep, When th' humble roof Anchises' son explor'd Of good Evander, wealth-despising king! 330 Amid the thickets: so revolves the scene; So Time ordains, who rolls the things of pride
From dust again to dust. Behold that heap Of mould'ring urns (their ashes blown away, Dust of the mighty!) the same story tell; 335 And at its base, from whence the serpent glides Down the green desert street, yon' hoary monk Laments the same, the vision as he views, The solitary, silent, solemn scene, Where Cæsars, heroes, peasants, hermits, lie 340 Blended in dust together; where the slave Rests from his labours; where th' insulting proud Resigns his pow'r; the miser drops his hoard; Where human folly sleeps. There is a mood (I sing not to the vacant and the young),345 There is a kindly mood of melancholy That wings the soul, and points her to the skies: When tribulation clothes the child of man, When age descends with sorrow to the grave, 'Tis sweetly-soothing sympathy to pain,350 A gently-wak'ning call to health and ease. How musical! when all-devouring Time, Here sitting on his throne of ruins hoar, While winds and tempests sweep his various lyre, How sweet thy diapason, Melancholy!355 Cool ev'ning comes; the setting sun displays His visible great round between yon tow'rs, As thro' two shady cliffs: away, my Muse! Tho' yet the prospect pleases, ever new In vast variety, and yet delight360 The many-figur'd sculptures of the path Half beauteous, half effac'd; the traveller Such antique marbles to his native land Oft hence conveys; and ev'ry realm and state With Rome's august remains, heroes and gods,365 Deck their long galleries and winding groves; Yet miss we not th' innumerable thefts;
Yet still profuse of graces teems the waste. Suffice it now th' Esquilian Mount to reach With weary wing, and seek the sacred rests 370 Of Maro's humble tenement. A low Plain wall remains; a little sun-gilt heap, Grotesque and wild: the gourd and olive brown Weave the light roof; the gourd and olive fan Their am'rous foliage, mingling with the vine, 375 Who drops her purple clusters thro' the green. Here let me lie, with pleasing fancy sooth'd: Here flow'd his fountain, here his laurels grew; Here oft the meek good man, the lofty bard, Fram'd the celestial song, or social walk'd 380 With Horace and the ruler of the world: Happy Augustus! who so well inspir'd Could'st throw thy pomps and royalties aside, Attentive to the wise, the great of soul, And dignify thy mind. Thrice glorious days,385 Auspicious to the Muses! then rever'd, Then hallow'd was the fount, or secret shade, Or open mountain, or whatever scene The poet chose to tune th' ennobling rhyme Melodious; ev'n the rugged sons of War,390 Ev'n the rude hinds, rever'd the poet's name: But now—another age, alas! is ours— Yet will the Muse a little longer soar, Unless the clouds of care weigh down her wing Since Nature's stores are shut with cruel hand, 395 And each aggrieves his brother; since in vain The thirsty pilgrim at the fountain asks Th' o'erflowing wave—Enough—the plaint disdain. Seest thou yon fane? ev'n now incessant time Sweeps her low mould'ring marbles to the dust; 400 And Phœbus' temple, nodding with its woods, Threatens huge ruin o'er the small rotund.
'Twas there, beneath a fig-tree's umbrage broad, Th' astonish'd swains with rev'rend awe beheld Thee, O Quirinus! and thy brother twin, 405 Pressing the teat within a monster's grasp Sportive, while oft the gaunt and rugged wolf Turn'd her stretch'd neck, and form'd your tender limbs: So taught of Jove, ev'n the fell savage fed Your sacred infancies; your virtues, toils,410 The conquests, glories, of th' Ausonian state, Wrapp'd in their secret seeds. Each kindred soul, Robust and stout, ye grapple to your hearts, And little Rome appears. Her cots arise, Green twigs of osier weave the slender walls,415 Green rushes spread the roofs; and here and there Opens beneath the rock the gloomy cave. Elate with joy, Etruscan Tiber views Her spreading scenes enamelling his waves, Her huts and hollow dells, and flocks and herds,420 And gath'ring swains, and rolls his yellow car To Neptune's court with more majestic train. Her speedy growth alarm'd the states around, Jealous; yet soon, by wondrous virtue won, They sink into her bosom. From the plough 425 Rose her dictators; fought, o'ercame, return'd; Yes, to the plough return'd, and hail'd their peers! For then no private pomp, no household state, The public only swell'd the gen'rous breast. Who has not heard the Fabian heroes sung?430 Dentatus' scars, or Mutius' flaming hand? How Manlius sav'd the Capitol? the choice Of steady Regulus? As yet they stood, Simple of life; as yet seducing wealth Was unexplor'd, and shame of poverty 435 Yet unimagin'd—Shine not all the fields
With various fruitage? murmur not the brooks Along the flow'ry vallies? they, content, Feasted at Nature's hand, indelicate, Blithe, in their easy taste, and only sought 440 To know their duties; that their only strife, Their gen'rous strife, and greatly to perform. They thro' all shapes of peril and of pain, Intent on honour, dar'd in thickest death To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebia quell'd, 445 Nor Thrasymene, nor Cannæ's bloody field, Their dauntless courage: storming Hannibal In vain the thunder of the battle roll'd; The thunder of the battle they return'd Back on his Punic shores, till Carthage fell, 450 And danger fled afar. The City gleam'd With precious spoils: alas, prosperity! Ah, baneful state! yet ebb'd not all their strength In soft luxurious pleasures; proud desire Of boundless sway, and feverish thirst of gold,455 Rouz'd them again to battle. Beauteous Greece, Torn from her joys, in vain with languid arm Half rais'd her rusty shield; nor could avail The sword of Dacia, nor the Parthian dart, Nor yet the car of that fam'd British chief 460 Which sev'n brave years beneath the doubtful wing Of vict'ry dreadful roll'd its grinding wheels Over the bloody war: the Roman arms Triumph'd till Fame was silent of their foes. And now the world unrivall'd they enjoy'd 465 In proud security: the crested helm, The plated greave and corselet, hung unbrac'd; Nor clank'd their arms, the spear and sounding shield, But on the glitt'ring trophy to the wind. Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie, 470 Till ev'ry sun annoys, and ev'ry wind
Has chilling force, and ev'ry rain offends; For now the frame no more is girt with strength Masculine, nor in lustiness of heart Laughs at the winter-storm and summer-beam,475 Superior to their rage: enfeebling vice Withers each nerve, and opens ev'ry pore To painful feeling: flow'ry bow'rs they seek, (As ether prompts, as the sick sense approves) Or cool nymphean grots, or tepid baths;480 (Taught by the soft lonians) they along The lawny vale, of ev'ry beauteous stone, Pile in the roseat air with fond expense: Thro' silver channels glide the vagrant waves, And fall on silver beds crystalline down,485 Melodious murmuring; while Luxury Over their naked limbs, with wanton hand, Sheds roses, odours, sheds unheeded bane. Swift is the flight of wealth; unnumber'd wants, Brood of Voluptuousness, cry out aloud 490 Necessity, and seek the splendid bribe. The citron board, the bowl emboss'd with gems, And tender foliage wildly wreath'd around Of seeming ivy, by that artful hand, Corinthian Thericles; whate'er is known 495 Of rarest acquisition; Tyrian garbs, Neptunian Albion's high testaceous food, And flavour'd Chian wines, with incense fum'd, To slake Patrician thirst: for these their rights In the vile streets they prostitute to sale; 500 Their ancient rights, their dignities, their laws, Their native glorious freedom. Is there none, Is there no villain, that will bind the neck Stretch'd to the yoke? They come; the market throngs. But who has most by fraud or force amass'd? 505
Who most can charm Corruption with his doles? He be the monarch of the state; and, lo! Didius, vile usurer! thro' the crowd he mounts, Beneath his feet the Roman Eagle cowers, And the red arrows fill his grasp uncouth. 510 O Britons! O my countrymen! beware; Gird, gird your hearts: the Romans once were free, Were brave, were virtuous.—Tyranny howe'er Deign'd to walk forth a while in pageant state, And with licentious pleasures fed the rout,515 The thoughtless many: to the wanton sound Of fifes and drums they danc'd, or in the shade Sung Cæsar, great and terrible in war; Immortal Cæsar! Lo! a god, a god! He cleaves the yielding skies. Cæsar meanwhile 520 Gathers the ocean pebbles, or the gnat Enrag'd pursues; or at his lonely meal Starves a wide province; tastes, dislikes, and flings To dogs and sycophants. A god, a god! The flow'ry shades and shrines obsene return. 525 But see along the North the tempest swell O'er the rough Alps, and darken all their snows! Sudden the Goth and Vandal, dreaded names, Rush as the breach of waters, whelming all Their domes, their villas; down the festive piles,530 Down fall their Parian porches, gilded baths, And roll before the storm in clouds of dust. Vain end of human strength, of human skill, Conquest, and triumph, and domain, and pomp, And ease, and luxury! O Luxury! 535 Bane of elated life, of affluent states, What dreary change, what ruin, is not thine? How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind! To the soft entrance of thy rosy cave How dost thou lure the fortunate and great! 540
Dreadful attraction! while behind thee gapes Th' unfathomable gulf where Ashur lies O'erwhelm'd, forgotten, and high-boasting Cham, And Elam's haughty pomp, and beauteous Greece, And the great queen of earth, imperial Rome!545