English poem
Lydia Maria Child
by E. A. Poe (1809–1849)
"MARIUS AMID THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE.
"Pillars are fallen at thy feet, Fanes quiver in the air, A prostrate city is thy seat, And thou alone art there.
"No change comes o'er thy noble brow, Though ruin is around thee; Thine eyebeam burns as proudly now As when the laurel crowned thee.
"It cannot bend thy lofty soul Though friends and fame depart — The car of Fate may o'er thee roll Nor crush thy Roman heart.
"And genius hath electric power Which earth can never tame; Bright suns may scorch and dark clouds lower, Its flash is still the same.
"The dreams we loved in early life May melt like mist away; High thoughts may seem, 'mid passion's strife, Like Carthage in decay;
"And proud hopes in the human heart May be to ruin hurled, Like mouldering monuments of art Heaped on a sleeping world:
"Yet there is something will not die Where life hath once been fair; Some towering thoughts still rear on high, Some Roman lingers there."