1*Ον οἱ θεοὶ φιλοῦσιν, ἀποθνήσκει νέος" Τὸ γὰρ θανεῖν οὐκ αἰσχρὸν, ἀλλ ̓ αἰσχρῶς θανεῖν. Rich. Fran. Phil. Brunck. Poetæ Gnomici, p. 231, ed. 1784.

[Four words, and two initials, compose the whole of the inscription which, whatever was its ancient position, is now placed in front of this towering sepulchre CECILIE, Q. CRETICI. P. METELLE. CRASSI. It is more likely to have been the pride than the love of Crassus, which raised so -perb a memorial to a wife, whose name is not mentioned in history, unless she be supposed to be that lady whose timacy with Dolabella was so offensive to Tullia, the daughter of Cicero; or she who was divorced by Lentulus Spanther, or she, perhaps the same person, from whose ear Che son of Esopus transferred a precious jewel to enrich his daughter.-ilоBHOUSE.]

The Palatine is one mass of ruins, particularly on the side towards the Circus Maximus. The very soil is formed of crumbled brickwork. Nothing has been told, nothing can be told, to satisfy the belief of any but a Roman antiquary. See "Historical Illustrations," p. 206.-[" The voice of Marius could not sound more deep and solemn among the ruined arches of Carthage, than the strains of the Pilgrim

Where all lies founder'd that was ever dear: But could I gather from the wave-worn store Enough for my rude boat, where should I steer? There woos no home, nor hope, nor life, save what is here.

CVI.

Then let the winds howl on! their harmony
Shall henceforth be my music, and the night
The sound shall temper with the owlets' cry,
As I now hear them, in the fading light
Dim o'er the bird of darkness' native site,
Answering each other on the Palatine,

With their large eyes, all glistening gray and bright,
And sailing pinions.-Upon such a shrine

What are our petty griefs?-let me not number mine.

CVII.

Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown Matted and mass'd together, hillocks heap'd On what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown In fragments, choked up vaults, and frescoes steep'd In subterranean damps, where the owl peep'd, Deeming it midnight:-Temples, baths, or halls? Pronounce who can; for all that Learning reap'd From her research hath been, that these are wallsBehold the Imperial Mount! 'tis thus the mighty falls.

CVIII.

There is the moral of all human tales ;* "Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory-when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption,-barbarism at last. And History, with all her voluines vast, Hath but one page,-'tis better written here, Where gorgeous Tyranny hath thus amass'd All treasures, all delights, that eye or ear, Heart, soul could seek, tongue ask-Away with words. draw near,

CIX.

Admire, exult-despise-laugh, weep,-for here
There is such matter for all feeling :-Man!

Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear,
Ages and realms are crowded in this span,
This mountain, whose obliterated plan
The pyramid of empires pinnacled,

Of Glory's gewgaws shining in the van

Till the sun's rays with added flame were fill'd! Where are its golden roofs? where those who dared to build?

amid the broken shrines and fallen statues of her subduer." -SIR WALTER SCOTT.]

4 The author of the Life of Cicero, speaking of the opinion entertained of Britain by that orator and his cotemporary Romans, has the following eloquent passage: "From their railleries of this kind, on the barbarity and misery of our island, one cannot help reflecting on the surprising fate and revolutions of kingdoms; how Rome, once the mistress of the world, the seat of arts, empire, and glory, now lies sunk in sloth, ignorance, and poverty, enslaved to the most cruel as well as to the most contemptible of tyrants, superstition and religious imposture; while this remote country, anciently the jest and contempt of the polite Romans, is become the happy seat of liberty, plenty, and letters; flourishing in all the arts and refinements of civil life; yet running perhaps the same course which Rome itself had run before it, from virtuous industry to wealth from wealth to luxury; from luxury to an impatience of discipline, and corruption of morals: till, by a total degeneracy and loss of virtue, being grown ripe for destruction, it fall a prey at last to some hardy oppressor, and, with the loss of liberty, losing every thing that is valuable, sinks gradually again into its original barbarism.' (See History of the Life of M. Tullius Cicero, sect. vi. vol. ii. p. 102.)'

CX.

Tully was not so eloquent as thou,
Thou nameless column with the buried base!
What are the laurels of the Cæsar's brow?
Crown me with ivy from his dwelling-place.
Whose arch or pillar meets me in the face,
Titus or Trajan's? No-'tis that of Time:
Triumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace
Scoffing; and apostolic statues climb

CXV.

Egeria! sweet creation of some heart*
Which found no mortal resting-place so fair
As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art
Or wert, a young Aurora of the air,
The nympholepsy of some fond despair;
Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth,
Who found a more than common votary there
Too much adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth,

1 The column of Trajan is surmounted by St. Peter; that of Aurelius by St. Paul. See "Historical Illustrations," p. 214.

2 Trajan was proverbially the best of the Roman princes, Eutrop. 1. viii. c. 5) and it would be easier to find a sovereign uniting exactly the opposite characteristics, than one possessed of all the happy qualities ascribed to this emperor. When he mounted the throne," says the historian Dion, "he was strong in body, he was vigorous in mind; age had impaired none of his faculties; he was altogether free from envy and from detraction; he honored all the good, and he advanced them; and on this account they could not be the

objects of his fear, or of his hate; he never listened to informers; he gave not way to his anger; he abstained equally from unfair exactions and unjust punishments; he had rather be loved as a man than honored as a sovereign: he was affable with his people, respectful to the senate, and universally beloved by both; he inspired none with dread but the enemies of his country."-Hist. Rom. 1. lxiii. c. 6. 7.

The name and exploits of Rienzi must be familiar to the reader of Gibbon. Some details and unedited manuscripts, relative to this unhappy hero, will be seen in the "Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto," p. 248.

4 See Appendix, "Historical Notes," No. xXVII.

1" At all events," says the author of the Academical Questions, "I trust, whatever may be the fate of my own speculations, that philosophy will regain that estimation which it ought to possess. The free and philosophic spirit of our nation has been the theme of admiration to the world. This was the proud distinction of Englishmen, and the lunons source of all their glory. Shall we then forget the manly and dignified sentiments of our ancestors, to prate in the language of the mother or the nurse about our good old

prejudices? This is not the way to defend the cause of truth. It was not thus that our fathers maintained it in the brilliant periods of our history. Prejudice may be trusted to guard the outworks for a short space of time, while reason slumbers in the citadel; but if the latter sink into a lethargy, the former will quickly erect a standard for herself. Philosophy, wisdom, and liberty support each other: he who will not reason is a bigot; he who cannot, is a fool; and he who dares not, is a slave." Vol. i. pref. pp. 14, 15.

CXXXI.

Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine
And temple more divinely desolate,
Among thy mightier offerings here are mine,
Ruins of years-though few, yet full of fate :-
If thou hast ever seen me too elate,
Hear me not; but if calmly I have borne
Good, and reserved my pride against the hate
Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn
This iron in my soul in vain-shall they not mourn?
CXXXII.

And thou, who never yet of human wrong
Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis !!
Here, where the ancient paid thee homage long-
Thou, who didst call the Furies from the abyss,
And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss
For that unnatural retribution-just,

Had it but been from hands less near-in this
Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust! [must.
Dost thou not hear my heart?-Awake! thou shalt, and
CXXXIII.

It is not that I may not have incurr'd
For my ancestral faults or mine the wound
I bleed withal, and, had it been conferr'd
With a just weapon, it had flow'd unbound;
But now my blood shall not sink in the ground;
To thee I do devote it-thou shalt take

The vengeance, which shall yet be sought and found,
Which if I have not taken for the sake

But let that pass-I sleep, but thou shalt yet awake.

CXXXIV.

And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now I shrink from what is suffer'd: let him speak Who hath beheld decline upon my brow, Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak; But in this page a record will I seek. Not in the air shall these my words disperse, Though I be ashes; a far hour shall wreak The deep prophetic fulness of this verse, And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse!

CXXXV.

That curse shall be Forgiveness.-Have I not-
Hear me, my mother Earth! behold it, Heaven!-
Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?
Have I not suffer'd things to be forgiven?
Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heart riven,

Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, Life's life lied away?
And only not to desperation driven,
Because not altogether of such clay

As rots into the souls of those whom I survey.

CXXXVI.

From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy

Have I not seen what human things could do?

1 See Appendix, "Historical Notes," No. XXVIII.

2 [Between stanzas cxxxv. and cxxxvi. we find in the original MS. the following:

"If to forgive be heaping coals of fire

As God hath spoken-on the heads of foes,
Mine should be a volcano, and rise higher
Than, o'er the Titans crush'd, Olympus rose,
Or Athos soars, or blazing Etna glows:-

True, they who stung were creeping things; but what
Than serpents' teeth inflicts with deadlier throes?
The Lion may be goaded by the Gnat.-

Who sucks the slumberer's blood?-The Eagle?-No: the Bat."]

From the loud roar of foaming calumny To the small whisper of the as paltry few, And subtler venom of the reptile crew, The Janus glance of whose significant eye, Learning to lie with silence, would seem true, And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh, Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy.

CXXXVII.

But I have lived, and have not lived in vain : My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire, And my frame perish even in conquering pain; But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire; Something unearthly, which they deem not of, Like the remember'd tone of a mute lyre, Shall on their soften'd spirits sink, and move In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love.

CXXXVIII.

The seal is set.-Now welcome, thou dread power! Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear: Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear That we become a part of what has been, And grow unto the spot, all-seeing but unseen.

CXXXIX.

And here the buzz of eager nations ran, In murmur'd pity, or loud-roar'd applause, As man was slaughter'd by his fellow man. And wherefore slaughter'd? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure.-Wherefore not? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms-on battle-plains or listed spot? Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot. CXL

I see before me the Gladiator lie:

He leans upon his hand-his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his droop'd head sinks gradually low-
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now
The arena swims around him-he is gone,

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch

who won.

CXLI.

He heard it, but he heeded not-his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;3
He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,

Whether the wonderful statue which suggested this image be a laquearian gladiator, which, in spite of Winkelmann's criticism, has been stoutly maintained; or whether it be a Greek herald, as that great antiquary positively asserted; or whether it is to be thought a Spartan or barba

Either Polifontes, herald of Laius, killed by Edipus ; or Cepreas, herald of Euritheus, killed by the Athenians when he endeavored to drag the Heraclide from the altar of mercy, and in whose honor they instituted annual games, continued to the time of Hadrian; or Anthemocritus, the Athenian herald, killed by the Megarenses, who never recovered the impiety. See Storia delle Arti, &c. tom. ii. pag. 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, lib. ix. cap. ii.