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