“ I sat beneath an olive’s branches grey,1
And gazed upon the site of a lost town,2
By sage and poet raised to long renown ;3
Where dwelt a race that on the sea held
sway,4
sway,4
And, restless as its waters, forced a way5
For civil strife a thousand states to drown,6
That multitudinous stream we now note
down.”7
down.”7
As though one life, in birth and in decay.8
But is their being’s history spent and run,9
Whose spirits live in awful singleness,10
Each in its self-formed sphere of light or
gloom ;11
gloom ;11
Henceforth, while pondering the fierce deeds
then done,12
then done,12
Such reverence on me shall its seal im-
press13
press13
As though I corpses saw, and walked the
tomb.”14
tomb.”14