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And charging horse and foot, and dead and dying,
Defeat and victory, prisoners and pursuit,
And búrning cities villages and cornfields,
Rápine and waste and all the whole heart of man;
And groáns assail mine ears and shouts of triumph,
And cries of wretches broken on the wheel tror 9790W
Slow inch by inch, or in the fire consuming, iso gaivi,
Or rótting underground in damp, dark dungeons;rio.lt
And, mixed with these, bells ringing, organs pealing, .
And hymns in chorus sung to the new God, higimodi
And preachers' voices loud anathematising and onzi
Christ and his cross, rude barbarous superstition iw 1:.
óf a beníghted, Gód-deserted age. liavim pahid sedmih:
Turn, weary ear and shocked, disheartened eyes! qot a.
And seek refreshment in the happier past;ium od 1%,
Alás! there is nó refreshment in the past a HIBEIM
For eár or eye; hórrors and woeful sounds in fob -
And sights of blood fill the whole backward distance:
Állah, Christ, Jove, Jehova, Baal and Isis, in real oli
With all their prophets, miracles and priests, t'I painers,
Sheiks, Popes, Druids, Patriarchs, and Bonzés irgista
In battle melée charge and countercharge, it Boston
Conquerors alternate, and alternate conquered - trist
History, begóne! henceforth let no man write-0100
The ánnals of his kind, or dissipate i proslw sier ti
The sweet and fair illusion that on earth 1 orli ja s
Sómetime and somewhere Charity has lived, hors to be
And mén not always when they used God's name
Had fraud or blood or rapine in their hearts.
Stáge upon which so many stirring scenes
Óf the world's history have been enacted,
Nót without awe I tread thee here where Brutus
Díd his great deed, where Marcus Tullius pleaded,
Where Brénnus threw into the wavering scale

His sword's weight; here where Clodius brawled, where wronged
Virginius' knife ended Decemvirates;
Hére where into the delicate, fine ears
Of the world's máster, the Venusian bard
And Mántuan poured the honey of their song;
Hére where, resuscitated by the sculptor's
Lífe-giving chisel, round about me stand
In áll their ancient majesty, reinstalled,
The lánd's pristine possessors, heroes heroines
Góds Demigods philosophers and bards, ed
Hére is no púppet show no village playhouse.
So far I wrote or thought, when on mine eyes
Fell slúmber like a veil, and lo! I 'm seated
On the top bench of a vast circular building,
Úp next the awning; on each hand all round
Rome's ártizans, on the stone benches crowded,
Look down with strained necks into the Arena;
I too look down past the filled tiers and wedges,
Pást the dense rows of senators and knights,
Procónsuls, Prétors, Heads municipal,
And foreign princes in costumes outlandish,
And délegates from the round world's three thirds,
And pást the Podium where on gold and crimson
The Emperor lolled, the Fasces at his back,
Into th' Aréna, where in the midst I saw,
Náked except the loins and all defenceless,
An old man and a youth together standing;
And to the question who or what they were
Received for answer from those sitting near me:
“A father and his son condemned to death
For spreáding blasphemous, Jewish superstitions
Among the vulgar, teaching them one Christ,
A Jewish rebel, was their rightful Cesar,
Jóve's bástard by a fair Alcmena Jewess.”

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As thús I heard, two glittering swords unsheathed
Were thrown into the midst, and a loud voice
Proclaimed the Cesar's mercy to that one
Óf the two cúlprits, whether son or father,
Who should the other slay in single fight,
There in the présence of assembled Rome.
Cold hórror chilled my blood as I beheld 47
Father and son, at the same instant armed,
Brándish the weapons:-- "Hold," I cried, “hold, hold”
And wóke, and found me in the Coliseum,
Seáted upon the ruined, crumbling Podium,
Before me and on either side Christ's chapels
And kneeling worshippers, overhead the cross. si
I know not, Italy, whether thou art fairest
Ín thy blue sky, translucent lakes, broad rivers,
Thy pebbly half-moon bays and hoary headlands,
Thine irrigated vales of pasture green, het;
Thy mantling vines, tall cypresses, gray olives,
Thy stone-pines, hólmoaks dark, and laurels noble,
Ór in the interior of thy marble halls 31:43
Where every pillar, every flag l tread on,
Has félt Bramante's or Palladio's chisel,
And every wall and every ceiling glows
Fresh with the tínts of Raphael or Guercino;
But well I know that where thou shouldst be fairest
Thou art most foul; in all the sweet relations
Of lífe domestic, Italy! thou art naught:
Thou know'st no happy fireside, no tea table;
About the mother, in the evening, never
Gáther the children whether sons or daughters;
No book is read, no family instruction ; :"
Th' example of the father leads the sono
To the Casino and the coffeehouse,
The mother, seated on her throne the sofa,

Receives all day long the seductive homage
Of her obedient, courteous, gay cicisbeo,
And seés not, or cares not to see,

which

way, Or whéther more than one way, roves the husband. The daughters, to the convent sent, learn plain And fáncy work, a little music, spelling, Less writing, and no counting but to know Upon the rosary how many beads, Hów many Saints-days in the calendar, And on the satin frock to be presented To the Madonna on her Son's birthday. How many spangles will have best effect. Ah, ítaly! thou that so chaf'st against A fóreign yoke, so kick’st against the pricks, Ere into thy long-unaccustomed hands Thou ták'st the government of thyself, first teach One of thy sóns to govern well himself Ånd his own house; the social virtues Precéde, not follow, the political; An independant State 's created by, Ére it creátes, good husbands, parents, children:

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Between me and my home lies many an Alp
With many a toilsome, rugged, steep ascent,
And sheer' descending, dizzy precipice,
And mány a chasm, and awful, black abyss,
Ravine and fissure in the splintered mountain,
To be crossed over on the insecure
And crazy footing of half-rotten plank
Móssgrown and slippery with the drizzling spray
óf the loud roaring cataract beneath..'
From my youth úp I 've loved thee, Switzerland;
At school, in college loved thee; of thee dreamed
While ón mine ears the lecturer's dry theme

Unfructifying fell, or in my hand
Forgót and useless lay dissector's knife;
And when at last the college Term went by,
Ánd the damp foggy days and long dark nights
Gave way to joyous July’s glowing sun,
With whát a light, elastic heart I threw i obient au
My knapsack on my shoulder, in my hand yet to
My wanderer's stáff took, and set out to scale 01s!)
Thy snowy mountains, thy green valleys tread, 39. c A
Drink thy free air and feel myself a man! 1:1;97, AI
Lonely my wanderings then, my sole companions for
The river and the breeze, the cloudy rack, 1999 bris
Or some stráy goat, or sheep that to my hand, thodla
Expécting salt, came bleating; later yearsii marii vàiv
Brought me a comrade; a coeval youth, a Fidesa M
Wober like me of Nature, by my sidem. II
Stép for step taking with me, the long way, A
The dáy tempestuous or the evening's gloomy., sir
Cheered with sweet interchange of thoughts congenial.
Upon this mossy bank we sat together,') litis sit spel
Twenty five yéars ago this very dayit Forenede ses borda
And watched September's mitigated suna!
Go dówn, as now it goes, behind yon Stockhorn; UIT
From Mérligen’s white steeple on our left at sige eft
Rest rést, ye weary! even as now was tolling; si} jord
And high above, high high above, the horn i lidt
Of Morgenberg, the Jungfrau's frozen cheeksi
And Mönch's and Eigher’s glowed, as now, bright vermeil
Únder the last kiss of departing Day; it hits
Before us in the mirror of the lake ; jus myli
The Niésen pyramid, point downward, trembled, pri
And down below the point the crescent mooni?!
And, lówer still, gray evening's silver star
Their únpretentious, mingled light as now

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