THRASEA.
IN these burned streets I wander like a ghost:
Rome is no more: O see, my memoried Rome,
My senatorial city is burned and gone!
The city of Camillus, whose abrupt
And tortuous streets my ancestors have threaded,
Here going about a tower of Servius,
Here an Etruscan temple of carved wood,
Here by some patriot tribune’s gabled home:
All gone, as the free spirit that made it, gone: