Classic Poem

Then Rome, the gaudy Southern Queen,
On seven rugged, rock-ribbed hills
Securely built her throne. The world
Then saw a mighty power rise
In splendor great, as does the sun
On some young, swift-winged morn of June.
A brighter dawning seemed to break;
Another life was lived, — for through
The Roman vein there coursed a blood,
A fiery burning blood of ire,
That rose and conquered all the world.
Great Caesar led her legions forth
From victory on to victory,
And hung her royal pennons high
In tower, palace-hall, and throne;
The Roman sceptre swayed the globe.
Soft music soothed her savage ear,
Fine arts and sculptor were her toys,
And glory was her " starry crown. "
But now we read the " Fall of Rome, "
The doleful lay that tells the tale
Of all who thus have passed away.