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The long…lost gladness of its glance； And soothe the sorrows of thy
heart； Come； I will sing for thee again； The songs which once our
mothers sung； Ere tyranny its galling chain On them； and those they
loved； had hung。
Thou'rt sad； thou say'st that in the halls Which echoed once our
father's tread； The stranger's idle footstep falls； With sound that might
awake the dead！ The mighty dead！ whose dust around An atmosphere
of reverence sheds； If aught of earthly voice or sound； Might reach
them in their marble beds。
That she to whom the deep gave birth； Fair Venice！ to whose
queenly stores The wealth and beauty of the earth Were wafted from an
hundred shores！ Now on her wave…girt site； forlorn； Sits shrouded in
affliction's night； The object of the tyrant's scorn； Sad monument of
fallen might。
Well； tho' in her deserted halls The fire on Freedom's shrine is dead；
Tho' o'er her darkened； crumbling walls； Stern Desolation's pall is
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spread； Is not the second better part； To that which rends the despot's
chain； To wear it with a dauntless heart； To feel yet shrink not from its
pain？
Then let the creeping ivy twine Its wreaths about each ruined arch；
Till Time shall crush them in the brine； Beneath its all…triumphant
march！ Then let the swelling waters close Above the sea…child's sinking
frame； And hide for ever from her foes； Each trace and vestige of her
shame。
Shall we at last less calmly sleep； When in the narrow death…house
pent； Because the bosom of the deep Shall be our only monument？ No！
by the waste of waters bid； Our tombs as well shall keep their trust； As
tho' a marble pyramid Were piled above our mangled dust！
Written in the National Gallery； at the city of Washington； on looking
at a Mummy； supposed to have belonged to a race extinct before the
occupation of the Western Continent by the people in whose possession
the Europeans found it。
Sole and mysterious relic of a race That long has ceased to be； whose
very name； Time； ever bearing on with steady pace； Has swept away from
earth； leaving thy frame； Darkened by thirty centuries； to claim； Among
the records of the things that were； Its place；Tradition has forgot thee
Fame； If ever fame was thine； has ceased to bear Her record of thee；say；
what dost thou here？
Three thousand years ago a mother's arms Were wrapped about that
dark and ghastly form； And all the loveliness of childhood's charms
Glowed on that cheek； with life then flushed and warm； Say； what
preserved thee from the hungry worm That haunts with gnawing tooth the
gloomy bed Spread for the lifeless？ Tell what could disarm Decay of half
its power； and while it fed On empiresracesmake it spare the dead！
How strange to contemplate the wondrous story； When those deep
sunken eyes first saw the light； Lost Babylon was in her midday glory；
Upon her pride and power had fall'n no blight； And Tyre； the ancient
mariner's delight； Whose merchantmen were princes； and whose name
Was theme of praise to all； has left her site To utter barren nakedness and
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shame； Yet thou； amid all change； art still the same。
And she who； by the 〃yellow Tiber's〃 side； Sits wrapped in her dark
veil of widowhood； With scarce a glimmer of her ancient pride； To cheer
the gloom of that deep solitude Which o'er the seat of vanquished pow'r
doth brood； Since thou wast born has seen her glories rise； Burn； and
expire！ quenched by the streams of blood Which her slaves drew from her
own veins； the price Of usurpation； proud Ambition's sacrifice！
And darker in her fate； and sadder still； The sacred city of the minstrel
king； That proudly sat on Zion's holy hill； The wonder of the world！
Destruction's wing Hath from her swept each fair and goodly thing； Her
palaces and temples！ where are they？ Her walls and marble tow'rs lie
mouldering； Her glory to the spoiler's hand a prey； And yet time spares a
portion of thy clay！
And thou art here amid a stranger race； To whom these shores four
centuries ago； Tho' now proud Freedom's boasted dwelling…place； Were all
unknown； the wide streams that now flow Where Cultivation's hand has
steered her plough； Had then but seen the forest huntsman guide His light
canoe across the waves which now Reflect the snowy sails that waft in
pride The stately ship along their rippling tide。
Thou art the silent messenger of ages； Sent back to tread with Time his
constant way； To shame the wisdom of conceited sages； Whose lore is but
a thing of yesterday； What would their best； their brightest visions weigh
Beside the fearful truths thou couldst reveal？ The secrets of eternity now
lay Unveiled before thee； and for we or weal； Thy doom is fixed beyond
ev'n heaven's repeal。
I will not ask thee of the mysteries That lie beyond Death's shadowy
vale； but thou Mayst tell us of the fate the Destinies Wove for thine earthly
sojourn。 Was thy brow Graced with the poet's； hero's garland？ How Dealt
Fortune with thee？ Did she curse or bless Thee with her frown or smile？
Speak！ thou art now Among the living；they around thee press。 Still silent？
Then thy lot we can but guess。
Perhaps thou wast a monarch； and hast worn The sceptre of some real
El Dorado！ Perhaps a warrior； and those arms have borne The foremost
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shield； and dealt the deadliest blow That drew the life…blood of a warring
foe！ Perhaps thou wor'st the courtier's gilded thrall； Some glittering
court's gay； proud papilio！ Perchance a clown； the jester of some hall； The
slave of one man； and the fool of all！
Oh life！ and pride！ and honour！ come and see To what a depth your
visions tumble down！ Behold your wearer；who shall say if he Were
monarch； warrior； parasite； or clown！ And ye； who talk of glory and
renown； And call them bright and deathless！ and who break Each dearer
tie to grasp fame's gilded crown； Come； hear instruction from this shadow
speak； And learn how valueless the prize ye seek！
See where ambition's loftiest flight doth tend； Behold the doom
perhaps of blood…bought fame； And know that all which earth can give
must end； In dust and ashes； and an empty name！ Ye passions！ which defy
our pow'r to tame Or curb your headlong tides； behold your home！ Love！
see the breast where thou didst light thy flame！ Immortal spirit！ see thy
shattered dome！ When shall its hour of renovation come？
Shall life possess； and beauty deck again That withered form； and foul
and dusky cheek？ Will Death resign his dull and frozen reign； And the
immortal soul return to seek Her long…deserted dwelling； and to break The
bondage which has held in icy chains All that was mortal of thee？ will she
make Her home in thee； and shall these poor remains Share with her
heaven's pleasures or hell's pains？
Wonder of wonders！ who could look on thee And afterward survey
with curious eye The mouldering shrines where dupes have bent the knee；
Where superstition； by hypocrisy Nurtured and fed with tales of mystery；
Has oft with timid footstep trembling trod； All these are worse than
nothing； come and see Where once a deathless soul held its abode； The
wrecked and ruined palace of a God！
Farewell！ Not idly has this hour been spent。 Thy silent teachings I may
not forget； More deeply； strangely； truly eloquent； Than all the babbled
words which ever yet Have fall'n from living lips；they shall be set With
the bright gems which Wisdom loves to keep； And when my spirit against
fate would fret； My eyes shall turn to thee and cease to weep； Till I too