To honour Victors it is said
'Twas raised, though none their names can trace;
It stands as monument instead,
Unto each long-forgotten race,
12.
Who came, like me, to gaze and brood
Upon it in this lonely spot—
Their minds with pensive thoughts imbued,
That Heroes could be thus forgot.
13.
Yet still the wind a requiem sighs,
And the blue sky above it weeps;
Thu Sun pours down its radiant dyes,
Though none can tell who 'neath it sleeps.
14.
And seasons roll, and centuries pass,
And still unchanged thou keep'st thy place;
While we, like shadows in a glass,
Soon glide away, and leave no trace.
15.
And yon proud Arch, the Victor's meed,
Is nameless as the neighbouring Tomb:
Victor, and Dead, the Fates decreed
Your memory to oblivion's gloom.