PILGRIM! whose steps those desert sands explore, Where verdure never spreads its bright array; Know, 'twas on this inhospitable shore From Pompey's heart the life-blood ebbed away. 'Twas here betrayed he fell, neglected lay; Nor found @3his@1 relics a sepulchral stone, Whose life, so long a bright triumphal day, O'er Tiber's wave supreme in glory shone! Thou, stranger! if from barbarous climes thy birth, Look round exultingly, and bless the earth Where Rome, with him, saw power and virtue die; But if 'tis Roman blood that fills thy veins, Then, son of heroes! think upon thy chains, And bathe with tears the grave of liberty. |