Who, then, was Cestius, <br /> And what is he to me? - <br />Amid thick thoughts and memories multitudinous <br /> One thought alone brings he. <br /> <br /> I can recall no word <br /> Of anything he did; <br />For me he is a man who died and was interred <br /> To leave a pyramid <br /> <br /> Whose purpose was exprest <br /> Not with its first design, <br />Nor till, far down in Time, beside it found their rest <br /> Two countrymen of mine. <br /> <br /> Cestius in life, maybe, <br /> Slew, breathed out threatening; <br />I know not. This I know: in death all silently <br /> He does a kindlier thing, <br /> <br /> In beckoning pilgrim feet <br /> With marble finger high <br />To where, by shadowy wall and history-haunted street, <br /> Those matchless singers lie . . . <br /> <br /> --Say, then, he lived and died <br /> That stones which bear his name <br />Should mark, through Time, where two immortal Shades abide; <br /> It is an ample fame.<br /><br />Thomas Hardy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rome-at-the-pyramid-of-cestius-near-the-graves-o/
