Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - III. - At Rome

Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill? Yon petty Steep in truth the fearful Rock, Tarpeian named of yore, and keeping still That name, a local Phantom proud to mock The Traveler's expectation? Could our Will Destroy the ideal Power within, 'twere done Thro' what men see and touch, slaves wandering on, Impelled by thirst of all but Heaven-taught skill. Full oft, our wish obtained, deeply we sigh; Yet not unrecompensed are they who learn, From that depression raised, to mount on high With stronger wing, more clearly to discern Eternal things; and, if need be, defy Change, with a brow not insolent, though stern.