And gold, and men countless as forest leaves?
Persia, the Macedonian, Carthage, Tyre?

All gone,-restored to earth! Great Rome herself,
Haughty with arcs of triumph; theatres
Sphered to embrace all nations and their Gods,
Roads from one centre piercing lands remote,
Bridges, fit type of Conquest's giant stride-
Great Rome herself, empire of War and Law,
Yoking far regions, harrowing those fields
Reserved for Christian seed-Great Rome herself

I Was, and is not! The eternal edict stands

The power from God which comes not, drops and dies.

Hark to that sound! yon ocean Eagle drives
The mist of morn before her, seaward launched
From her loved nest on Delphi. She, though stern,
Can love a divine instinct, that outlasts
Phoebus, thy fabulous honors. Far away

The storms are dying; and the night-bird pours,
Encouraged thus, her swift and rapturous song.
Ah! when that song is over I depart.

Return, my wandering thoughts! the ascending Moon
Smiles on her Brother's peaks, and many a ridge

Her glance solicits, many a stirring wood
Exults in her strong radiance as she glides

On from the pine-gulf to the gulf of clouds.

Return, my thoughts! the innumerous cedar-cones
Of Lebanon must lull you now no more;

Nor fall of Empires with as soft a sound,

O'er famed Colonos stoop no more in trance,
Eyeing the city-towers. No longer muse,
With mind divided though a single heart

On legend-true or erring! Earth can yield
No scene more fair than this-and Nature's beauty

Is ever irreproachable. Return:

A long breath take of this ambrosial clime
Ere lost the sweetness; sigh, yet be content:
Fill here your golden urns; be fresh for ever!

I have beheld Mont Blanc; in eminence,
Though seated, over all his standing sons;
Unearthly Eremite, whose cell is Heaven,
His glacier beard forth-streaming to his feet
Beyond his cloudy raiment; I have gazed

On Rome; have watched it from the Alban Hill;
Have marked the dome supreme, its mitred crown,
Dilate at sunset o'er the Latian bounds:

Byzantium I have seen: first capital

That owned the Faith; whose rising up once more
Shall be as mighty gates their heads uplifting'
O'er all the earth, for God to enter in ;
These three have I beheld: to these henceforth
I add a fourth to stand with these forever;
On rock or tree my name I dare not trace—
Delphi! stamp thou thine image on my heart!

SCENE.-A small, neat room. In a high Voltaire chair sits a white-haired old gentleman.

MONSIEUR VIEUXBOIS.-BABETTE,

M. VIEUXBOIS (turning querulously).

Day of my life! Where can she get?
BABETTE! I say! BABETTE! BABETTE!

BABETTE (entering hurriedly).

Coming, M'sieu'! If M'sieu' speaks

So loud he won't be well for weeks!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

Where have you been?

BABETTE.

Why, M'sieu' knows:

April!... Ville-d'Avray! . . . Ma'am'selle ROSE!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

Ah! I am old,—and I forget.

Was the place growing green, Babette?

BABETTE.

But of a greenness !-yes, M'sieu'!
And then the sky so blue!-so blue!
And when I dropped my immortelle,
How the birds sang!

(Lifting her apron to her eyes.)
This poor Ma'am'selle!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

You're a good girl, BABETTE, but she,

She was an Angel, verily.

Sometimes I think I see her yet

Stand smiling by the cabinet;

And once, I know, she peeped and laughed

Betwixt the curtains

Where's the draught?

(She gives him a cup.)

Now I shall sleep, I think, BABETTE;—
Sing me your Norman chansonnette.

"

She was an Angel". . . "Once she laughed "

What, was I dreaming?

Where's the draught?

BABETTE (showing the empty cup).

The draught, M’sieu’?

And ROSE! . . . And O! "the sky so blue!"