10
In yonder circus, through the doorway gloomy
Of an old cell, o'er crumbling free-stones trailing,
A flowery vine peeps forth, as bright and bloomy
As a gay tavern-wreath the traveller hailing!
We enter! Little cares the host, so haggard,
For all the guests that through these chambers wander;
Dreaming his thousand-year-long dreams, the laggard
Takes his siesta in a corner yonder.
See! where yon seats of lava, proudly towering,
In royal purple shone,—since veiled in ashes,—
The gladiator's skeleton squats, cowering,
Wiped from his brow e'en victory's glorious gashes!
The tale of Spartacus is he pursuing,
(Slavery's Ahasuerus,) and his glory,
Whose spectre pale still walks its round, renewing
Forevermore the old and bloody story?
His dreams once more the arena's image waken,
The shower of wreaths, the sea of smiling faces;
When, by the people's thundering plaudits shaken,
Almost the very stars fell from their places!
Well may the ribbon-braided crown of flowers
Seem but a gilded copy of the halter,
He wore around his neck in other hours,
The victim's hempen-wreath at Slavery's altar!
Lo! o'er yon wall-stones creeps a strange handwriting!
‘Libertas’—how the word like lightning glitters!
That slave, with dagger's point, for stylus, smiting,
Scratched in the stone the fiery, crinkling letters.
Still on that word his grim, fixed forehead dreameth,
Still at that word his hollow eye is staring,
As at the star that on his darkness beameth,
As at the sun that blinds him with its glaring!
As, in the good old wine their deep thirst slaking,
Hearts drink new hope and nerves new life and power,
So from that word, to keep his old eyes waking,
He drained the light to cheer his long night-hour.
Fair vine before the door, no false sign gavest
Thou to the strange guests, promising good liquor!
See here is wine! Ay, of the best and bravest!
A thousand years the age of wine and beaker!
But you, Franks, Germans, Britons and all others,
Nomads, that let this world in ruins charm you,
Be not entreated long to enter, brothers!
A sip in passing surely will not harm you.
Of an old cell, o'er crumbling free-stones trailing,
A flowery vine peeps forth, as bright and bloomy
As a gay tavern-wreath the traveller hailing!
We enter! Little cares the host, so haggard,
For all the guests that through these chambers wander;
Dreaming his thousand-year-long dreams, the laggard
Takes his siesta in a corner yonder.
See! where yon seats of lava, proudly towering,
In royal purple shone,—since veiled in ashes,—
The gladiator's skeleton squats, cowering,
Wiped from his brow e'en victory's glorious gashes!
The tale of Spartacus is he pursuing,
(Slavery's Ahasuerus,) and his glory,
Whose spectre pale still walks its round, renewing
Forevermore the old and bloody story?
His dreams once more the arena's image waken,
The shower of wreaths, the sea of smiling faces;
When, by the people's thundering plaudits shaken,
Almost the very stars fell from their places!
Well may the ribbon-braided crown of flowers
Seem but a gilded copy of the halter,
He wore around his neck in other hours,
The victim's hempen-wreath at Slavery's altar!
Lo! o'er yon wall-stones creeps a strange handwriting!
‘Libertas’—how the word like lightning glitters!
That slave, with dagger's point, for stylus, smiting,
Scratched in the stone the fiery, crinkling letters.
Still on that word his grim, fixed forehead dreameth,
Still at that word his hollow eye is staring,
As at the star that on his darkness beameth,
As at the sun that blinds him with its glaring!
As, in the good old wine their deep thirst slaking,
Hearts drink new hope and nerves new life and power,
So from that word, to keep his old eyes waking,
He drained the light to cheer his long night-hour.
Fair vine before the door, no false sign gavest
Thou to the strange guests, promising good liquor!
See here is wine! Ay, of the best and bravest!
A thousand years the age of wine and beaker!
But you, Franks, Germans, Britons and all others,
Nomads, that let this world in ruins charm you,
Be not entreated long to enter, brothers!
A sip in passing surely will not harm you.
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