To Rome

Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas (1580–1645)

From the Spanish by Benjamin B. Wiffen

Buried in Its Ruins

STRANGER, ’t is vain! midst Rome thou seek’st for Rome

In vain; thy foot is on her throne—her grave:

Her walls are dust; Time’s conquering banners wave

O’er all her hills; hills which themselves entomb.

Yes! the proud Aventine is its own womb;

The royal Palatine is ruin’s slave;

And medals, moldering trophies of the brave,

Mark but the triumphs of oblivious gloom.

Tiber alone endures, whose ancient tide

Worshipped the Queen of Cities on her throne

And now, as round her sepulchre, complains.

O Rome! the steadfast grandeur of thy pride

And beauty all is fled; and that alone

Which seemed so fleet and fugitive remains.