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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Widow Of Crescentius : Part I.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,<br>Bright-foaming falls, and olive shades,<br>Where dwelt, in days departed long,<br>The sons of battle and of song,<br>No tree, no shrub its foliage rears,<br>But o'er the wrecks of other years,<br>Temples and domes, which long have been<br>The soil of that enchanted scene.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There the wild fig-tree and the vine<br>O'er Hadrian's mouldering villa twine;<br>The cypress, in funeral grace,<br>Usurps the vanished column's place;<br>O'er fallen shrine and ruined frieze<br>The wall-flower rustles in the breeze;<br>Acanthus-leaves the marble hide<br>They once adorned in sculptured pride;<br>And nature hath resumed her throne<br>O'er the vast works of ages flown.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Was it for this that many a pile, <br>Pride of Hissus and of Nile,<br>To Anio's banks the image lent<br>Of each imperial monument? <br>Now Athens weeps her shattered fanes,<br>Thy temples, Egypt, strew thy plains;<br>And the proud fabrics Hadrian reared <br>From Tibur's vale have disappeared.<br>We need no prescient sibyl there<br>The doom of grandeur to declare;<br>Each stone, where weeds and ivy climb,<br>Reveals some oracle of Time;<br>Each relic utters Fate's decree,<br>The future as the past shall be.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Halls of the dead! in Tibur's vale,<br>Who now shall tell your lofty tale?<br>Who trace the high patrician's dome,<br>The bard's retreat, the hero's home? <br>When moss-clad wrecks alone record<br>There dwelt the world's departed lord,<br>In scenes where verdure's rich array<br>Still sheds young beauty o'er decay,<br>And sunshine on each glowing hill,<br>'Midst ruins finds a dwelling still.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sunk is thy palace - but thy tomb,<br>Hadrian! hath shared a prouder doom,<br>Though vanished with the days of old <br>Its pillars of Corinthian mould;<br>And the fair forms by sculpture wrought,<br>Each bodying some immortal thought,<br>Which o'er that temple of the dead,<br>Serene but solemn beauty shed,<br>Have found, like glory's self, a grave<br>In Time's abyss, or Tiber's wave:<br>Yet dreams more lofty and more fair<br>Than art's bold hand hath imaged e'er, <br>High thoughts of many a mighty mind,<br>Expanding when all else declined,<br>In twilight years, when only they <br>Recalled the radiance passed away,<br>Have made that ancient pile their home, <br>Fortress of freedom and of Rome. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There he, who strove in evil days<br>Again to kindle glory's rays,<br>Whose spirit sought a path of light,<br>For whose dim ages far too bright,-<br>Crescentius long maintained the strife<br>Which closed but with its martyr's life,<br>And left the imperial tomb a name,<br>A heritage of holier fame. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There closed De Brescia's mission high,<br>From thence the patriot came to die; <br>And thou, whose Roman soul the last<br>Spoke with the voice of ages past,<br>Whose thoughts so long from earth had fled <br>To mingle with the glorious dead,<br>That 'midst the world's degenerate race<br>They vainly sought a dwelling-place.<br>Within that house of death didst brood<br>O'er visions to thy ruin wooed.<br>Yet, worthy of a brighter lot,<br>Rienzi, be thy faults forgot!<br>For thou, when all around thee lay<br>Chained in the slumbers of decay -<br>So sunk each heart, that mortal eye<br>Had scarce a <br>tear<br>for liberty -<br>Alone, amidst the darkness there,<br>Couldst gaze on Rome - yet not despair!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Tis morn, and Nature's richest dyes<br>Are floating o'er Italian skies; <br>Tints of transparent lustre shine<br>Along the snow-clad Appennine; <br>The clouds have left Soracte's height,<br>And yellow Tiber winds in light,<br>Where tombs and fallen fanes have strewed<br>The wide Campagna's solitude.<br>'Tis sad amidst that scene to trace<br>Those relics of a vanished race;<br>Yet, o'er the ravaged path of time -<br>Such glory sheds that brilliant clime, <br>Where Nature still, though empires fall,<br>Holds her triumphant festival -<br>E'en Desolation wears a smile,<br>Where skies and sunbeams laugh the while; <br>And heaven's own light, earth's richest bloom,<br>Array the ruin and the tomb.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But she, who from yon convent tower<br>Breathes the pure freshness of the hour; <br>She, whose rich flow of raven hair<br>Streams wildly on the morning air, <br>Heeds not how fair the scene below,<br>Robed in Italia's brightest glow.<br>Though throned 'midst Latium's classic plains<br>The Eternal City's towers and fanes,<br>And they, the Pleiades of earth,<br>The seven proud hills of Empire's birth,<br>Lie spread beneath: not now her glance <br>Roves o'er that vast sublime expanse;<br>Inspired, and bright with hope, 'tis thrown<br>On Adrian's massy tomb alone:<br>There, from the storm, when Freedom fled,<br>His faithful crew Crescentius led;<br>While she, his anxious bride, who now<br>Bends o'er the scene her youthful brow,<br>Sought refuge in the hallowed fane,<br>Which then conflict shelter, not in vain.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But now the lofty strife is o'er, <br>And Liberty shall weep no more.<br>At length Imperial Otho's voice<br>Bids her devoted sons rejoice;<br>And he, who battled to restore <br>The glories and the rights of yore,<br>Whose accents, like the clarion's sound,<br>Could burst the dead repose around,<br>Again his native Rome shall see,<br>The sceptred city of the free!<br>And youth Stephania waits the hour<br>When leaves her lord his fortress tower,<br>Her ardent heart with joy elate,<br>That seems beyond the reach of fate;<br>Her mien, like creature from above,<br>All vivified with hope and love.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Fair is her form, and in her eye<br>Lives all the soul of Italy;<br>A meaning lofty and inspired,<br>As by her native day-star fired;<br>Such wild and high expression, fraught<br>With glances of impassioned thought,<br>As fancy sheds, in visions bright,<br>O'er priestess of the God of Light;<br>And the dark locks that lend her face <br>A youthful and luxuriant grace,<br>Wave o'er her cheek, whose kindling dyes<br>Seem from the fire within to rise,<br>But deepened by the burning heaven<br>To her own land of sunbeams given.<br>Italian art that fervid glow<br>Would o'er ideal beauty throw, <br>And with such ardent life express<br>Her high-wrought dreams of loveliness, -<br>Dreams which, surviving Empire's fall,<br>The shade of glory still recall.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But see! - the banner of the brave<br>O'er Adrian's tomb hath ceased to wave.<br>'Tis lowered - and now Stephania's eye<br>Can well the martial train descry,<br>Who, issuing from that ancient dome,<br>Pour through the crowded streets of Rome.<br>Now from her watch-tower on the height,<br>With step as fabled wood-nymph's light,<br>She flies - and swift her way pursues,<br>Through the lone convent's avenues.<br>Dark cypress groves, and fields o'erspread,<br>With records of the conquering dead,<br>And paths which track a glowing waste,<br>She traverses in breathless haste;<br>And by the tombs where dust is shrined,<br>Once tenanted by loftiest mind,<br>Still passing on, hath reached the gate<br>Of Rome, the proud, the desolate!<br>Thronged are the streets, and, still renewed,<br>Rush on the gathering multitude.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Is it their high-souled chief to greet,<br>That thus the Roman thousands meet?<br>With names that bid their thoughts ascend,<br>Crescentius, thine in song to blend;<br>And of triumphal days gone by <br>Recall the inspiring pageantry?<br>- There is an air of breathless dread,<br>An eager glance, a hurrying tread;<br>And now a fearful silence round,<br>And now a fitful murmuring sound,<br>'Midst the pale crowds, that almost seem<br>Phantoms of some tumultuous dream.<br>Quick is each step, and wild each mien,<br>Portentous of some awful scene.<br>Bride of Crescentius! as the throng<br>Bore thee with whelming force along,<br>How did thine anxious heart beat high,<br>Till rose suspense to agony! -<br>Too brief suspense, that soon shall close,<br>And leave thy heart to deeper woes.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Who 'midst yon guarded precinct stands,<br>With fearless mien, but fettered hands?<br>The ministers of death are nigh,<br>Yet a calm grandeur lights his eye;<br>And in his glance there lives a mind<br>Which was not formed for chains to bind,<br>But cast in such heroic mould<br>As theirs, the ascendant ones of old.<br>Crescentius! freedom's daring son,<br>Is this the guerdon thou hast won?<br>O worthy to have lived and died <br>In the bright days of Latium's pride!<br>Thus must the beam of glory close<br>O'er the seven hills again that rose,<br>When at thy voice, to burst the yoke, <br>The soul of Rome indignant woke?<br>Vain dream! the sacred shields are gone,<br>Sunk is the crowning city's throne:<br>The illusions, that around her cast<br>Their guardian spells, have long been past.<br>Thy life hath been a short-star's ray,<br>Shed o'er her midnight of decay;<br>Thy death at freedom's ruined shrine<br>Must rivet every chain - but thine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Calm is his aspect, and his eye<br>Now fixed upon the deep-blue sky,<br>Now on those wrecks of ages fled,<br>Around in desolation spread - <br>Arch, temple, column, worn and grey,<br>Recording triumphs passed away;<br>Works of the mighty and the free,<br>Whose steps on earth no more shall be,<br>Though their bright course hath left a trace<br>Nor years nor sorrows can efface.<br>Why changes now the patriot's mien,<br>Erewhile so loftily serene?<br>Thus can approaching death control <br>The might of that commanding soul?<br>No! - Heard he not that thrilling cry<br>Which told of bitterest agony?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He<br>heard it, and at once, subdued,<br>Hath sunk the hero's fortitude.<br>Whence rose that voice of woe can tell;<br>And 'midst the gazing throngs around<br>One well-known form his glance hath found -<br>One fondly loving and beloved,<br>In grief, in peril, faithful proved.<br>Yes, in the wildness of despair,<br>She, his devoted bride, is there. <br>Pale, breathless, through the crowd she flies, <br>The light of frenzy in her eyes:<br>But ere her arms can clasp the form,<br>Which life ere long must cease to warm -<br>Ere on his agonising breast <br>Her heart can heave, her head can rest -<br>Checked in her course by ruthless hands,<br>Mute, motionless, at once she stands;<br>With bloodless cheek and vacant glance, <br>Frozen and fixed in horror's trance;<br>Spell-bound, as every sense were fled,<br>And thought o'erwhelmed, and feeling dead,<br>And the light waving of her hair, <br>And veil, far floating on the air,<br>Alone, in that dread moment, show<br>She is no sculptured form of woe. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391663" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The scene of grief and death is o'er,<br>The patriot's heart shall throb no more:<br>But <br>hers<br>- so vainly formed to prove <br>The pure devotedness of love,<br>And draw from fond affection's eye<br>All thought sublime, all feeling high;<br>When consciousness again shall wake,<br>Hath now no refuge - but to break.<br>The spirit long inured to pain<br>May smile at fate in calm disdain;<br>Survive its darkest hour and rise<br>In more majestic energies.<br>But in the glow of vernal pride,<br>If each warm hope <br>at once<br>hath died,<br>Then sinks the mind, a blighted flower,<br>Dead to the sunbeam and the shower;<br>A broken gem, whose inborn light<br>Is scattered - ne'er to reunite.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a></strong></div>