The purple radiance of Elysium still.
Yet that fair soil and calm resplendent sky
Have witness’d many a dark reality.
Oft o’er those bright blue seas the gale hath borne
The sighs of exiles never to return.[131]
There with the whisper of Campania’s gale
Hath mingled oft affection’s funeral wail,
Mourning for buried heroes—while to her
That glowing land was but their sepulchre.[132]
And there, of old, the dread mysterious moan