“Tully was not so eloquent as thou,
⁠Thou nameless column with the buried base!
⁠What are the laurels of the Cæsar’s brow?
⁠Crown me with ivy from his dwelling-place.
⁠Whose arch or pillar meets me in the face,
⁠Titus or Trajan’s? No—’tis that of Time:
⁠Triumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace
⁠Scoffing; and apostolic statues climb
To crush the imperial urn, whose ashes slept sublime,

Buried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome,
⁠And looking to the stars: they had contained
⁠A Spirit which with these would find a home,
⁠The last of those who o’er the whole earth reigned,
⁠The Roman Globe—for, after, none sustained,
⁠But yielded back his conquests:—he was more
⁠Than a mere Alexander, and, unstained
⁠With household blood and wine, serenely wore
His sovereign virtues—still we Trajan’s name adore…”