Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/49

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THE RUINS OF ROME
45

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