MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN ITALY, 1837
XIII. NEAR THE SAME LAKE
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN ITALY, 1837
FOR action born, existing to be tried, Powers manifold we have that intervene To stir the heart that would too closely screen Her peace from images to pain allied. What wonder if at midnight, by the side Of Sanguinetto, or broad Thrasymene, The clang of arms is heard, and phantoms glide, Unhappy ghosts in troops by moonlight seen; And singly thine, O vanquished Chief! whose corse, Unburied, lay hid under heaps of slain: 10 But who is He?–the Conqueror. Would he force His way to Rome? Ah, no,–round hill and plain Wandering, he haunts, at fancy’s strong command, This spot–his shadowy death-cup in his hand.