Classic Poem

Haunting old volumes of forgotten lore,
All cultured minds most avidly rehearse
Its puissant prose, its pure, delicious verse,
Ever unveiling pleasurable store.

Supremely it soundeth as the hollow shore,
Re-echoing waves, when ired by churchly curse;
Noble it is with Cicero and terse,
And sweet on prayerful lips that God implore!

But when I read its lines, unto mine ear
With grandeur swells the Coliseum's roar!
I see the stalwart retiarii come
To hurl their grasping nets at glaive and spear!
And hear her sonorous words choked back by gore
When life and death hang on a vestal's thumb!