Was it for this that many a pile, Pride of Ilissus and of Nile, To Anio’s banks the image lent Of each imperial monument?[105] Now Athens weeps her shatter’d fanes, Thy temples, Egypt, strew thy plains; And the proud fabrics Hadrian rear’d From Tibur’s vale have disappear’d. We need no prescient sibyl there The doom of grandeur to declare; Each stone, where weeds and ivy climb, Reveals some oracle of Time; Each relic utters Fate’s decree-- The future as the past shall be. Halls of the dead! in Tibur’s vale, Who now shall tell your lofty tale? Who trace the high patrician’s dome, The bard’s retreat, the hero’s home? When moss-clad wrecks alone record There dwelt the world’s departed lord, In scenes where verdure’s rich array Still sheds young beauty o’er decay, And sunshine on each glowing hill Midst ruins finds a dwelling still. Sunk is thy palace--but thy tomb, Hadrian! hath shared a prouder doom.[106] Though vanish’d with the days of old Its pillars of Corinthian mould; Though the fair forms by sculpture wrought, Each bodying some immortal thought, Which o’er that temple of the dead Serene but solemn beauty shed, Have found, like glory’s self, a grave In time’s abyss or Tiber’s wave;[107] Yet dreams more lofty and more fair Than art’s bold hand hath imaged e’er. High thoughts of many a mighty mind Expanding when all else declined, In twilight years, when only they Recall’d the radiance pass’d away, Have made that ancient pile their home, Fortress of freedom and of Rome. There he, who strove in evil days Again to kindle glory’s rays, Whose spirit sought a path of light For those dim ages far too bright-- Crescentius--long maintain’d the strife Which closed but with its martyr’s life, And left th’ imperial tomb a name, A heritage of holier fame. There closed De Brescia’s mission high, From thence the patriot came to die;[108] And thou, whose Roman soul the last Spoke with the voice of ages past,[109] Whose thoughts so long from earth had fled To mingle with the glorious dead, That midst the world’s degenerate race They vainly sought a dwelling-place, Within that house of death didst brood O’er visions to thy ruin woo’d. Yet, worthy of a brighter lot, Rienzi, be thy faults forgot! For thou, when all around thee lay Chain’d in the slumbers of decay-- So sunk each heart, that mortal eye Had scarce a _tear_ for liberty-- Alone, amidst the darkness there, Couldst gaze on Rome--yet not despair![110]