Deep, solemn Night! broods ever o’er the tomb
Of her vast temples, fallen in their might.
Still to their broken shrines worn pilgrims come—
And ’neath their mighty columns, sunken low,
The fierce Bedouin seeks his midnight home,
And treacherous lurks where footsteps chance to go.
Proud Rome! thy thousand hills are silent now—
Where waved the “Imperial Eagle” o’er their brow.[[2]]
Yet o’er her mighty temples’ fallen shrines
Still sleeps the sunshine ’mid the shadows there;