“Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime
Shrine of all saints and temple of all Gods,
From Jove to Jesus—spared and blest by Time
Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods
Arch—empire—each thing round thee—and Man plods
His way through thorns to ashes—glorious Dome!
Shalt thou not last? Time’s scythe and Tyrants’ rods
Shiver upon thee—sanctuary and home
Of Art and Piety—Pantheon!—pride of Rome!
Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts!
Despoiled yet perfect! with thy circle spreads
A holiness appealing to all hearts;
To Art a model—and to him who treads
Rome for the sake of ages. Glory sheds
Her light through thy sole aperture; to those
Who worship, here are altars for their beads
And they who feel for Genius may repose
Their eyes on honoured forms, whose busts around them close…” (Byron)
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Ron says:
“Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime
Shrine of all saints and temple of all Gods,
From Jove to Jesus—spared and blest by Time
Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods
Arch—empire—each thing round thee—and Man plods
His way through thorns to ashes—glorious Dome!
Shalt thou not last? Time’s scythe and Tyrants’ rods
Shiver upon thee—sanctuary and home
Of Art and Piety—Pantheon!—pride of Rome!
Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts!
Despoiled yet perfect! with thy circle spreads
A holiness appealing to all hearts;
To Art a model—and to him who treads
Rome for the sake of ages. Glory sheds
Her light through thy sole aperture; to those
Who worship, here are altars for their beads
And they who feel for Genius may repose
Their eyes on honoured forms, whose busts around them close…” (Byron)
7 May 2022 — 11:48