Utter a word, oh ye streets! Wilt thou not, Genius, awake? All that thy sacred walls, eternal Rome, hold within them Teemeth with life; but to me, all is still silent and dead. Oh, who will whisper unto me,--when shall I see at the casement That one beauteous form, which, while it scorcheth, revives? Can I as yet not discern the road, on which I for ever To her and from her shall go, heeding not time as it flies? Still do I mark the churches, palaces, ruins, and columns, As a wise traveller should, would he his journey improve. Soon all this will be past; and then will there be but one temple, Amor's temple alone, where the Initiate may go. Thou art indeed a world, oh Rome; and yet, were Love absent, Then would the world be no world, then would e'en Rome be no Rome. ----- Do not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender Trust me, I deem thee not bold! reverence only I feel. Manifold workings the darts of Amor possess; some but scratching, Yet with insidious effect, poison the bosom for years. Others mightily feather'd, with fresh and newly-born sharpness Pierce to the innermost bone, kindle the blood into flame. In the heroical times, when loved each god and each goddess, Longing attended on sight; then with fruition was bless'd. Think'st thou the goddess had long been thinking of love and its pleasures When she, in Ida's retreats, own'd to Anchises her flame? Had but Luna delayd to kiss the beautiful sleeper, Oh, by Aurora, ere long, he had in envy been rous'd! Hero Leander espied at the noisy feast, and the lover Hotly and nimbly, ere long, plunged in the night-cover'd flood. Rhea Silvia, virgin princess, roam'd near the Tiber, Seeking there water to draw, when by the god she was seiz'd. Thus were the sons of Mars begotten! The twins did a she-wolf Suckle and nurture,--and Rome call'd herself queen of the world, ----- ALEXANDER, and Caesar, and Henry, and Fred'rick, the mighty, On me would gladly bestow half of the glory they earn'd, Could I but grant unto each one night on the couch where I'm lying; But they, by Orcus's night, sternly, alas! are held down. Therefore rejoice, oh thou living one, blest in thy love-lighted homestead, Ere the dark Lethe's sad wave wetteth thy fugitive foot. ----- THESE few leaves, oh ye Graces, a bard presents, in your honour, On your altar so pure, adding sweet rosebuds as well, And he does it with hope. The artist is glad in his workshop, When a Pantheon it seems round him for ever to bring. Jupiter knits his godlike brow,--her's, Juno up-lifteth; Phoebus strides on before, shaking his curly-lock'd head Calmly and drily Minerva looks down, and Hermes the light one, Turneth his glances aside, roguish and tender at once. But tow'rds Bacchus, the yielding, the dreaming, raiseth Cythere Looks both longing and sweet, e'en in the marble yet moist. Of his embraces she thinks with delight, and seems to be asking