The majesty of Rome to me is nought; <br />The imperial story of her conquering car <br />Touches me only with compassionate thought <br />For the doomed nations faded by her star. <br />Her palaces of Caesars tombstones are <br />For a whole world of freedoms vainly caught <br />In her high fortune. Throned was she in war; <br />By war she perished. So is justice wrought. <br />A nobler Rome is here, which shall not die. <br />She rose from the dead ashes of men's lust, <br />And robed herself anew in chastity, <br />And half redeemed man's heritage of dust. <br />This Rome I fain would love, though darkly hid <br />In mists of passion and desires scarce dead.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-new-pilgrimage-sonnet-xxxvi/
