Classic Poem

Near to Alcides' town, cool Tivoli,
White Albula doth spread her misty mere,
And close, at the fourth milestone, thou shalt see
An holy grove and fields to Muses dear;
A farm with rugged porch for shade was here
That nigh had wrought a dreadful deed — ah me
So suddenly it fell! — And thou wert near,
Scarce from beneath thy steeds had carried thee!
I wot that even Fortune shrank aghast
From crime so foul, lest hate should be her meed.
Now is that ruin gain: for perils past
Are things of price to all that give them heed,
Dear Regulus, for had thy roof stood fast,
It had not proved that there are Gods indeed.