I feel that I do not and can not describe this mighty ruin.  I can only say that I came away paralyzed, and as passive as a child.  A soldier stretched out his hand for “un dona,” as we passed the guard; and when my companion said I did wrong to give, I told him that I should have given my cloak, if the man had asked it.  Would you break any spell that worldly feeling or selfish sorrow may have spread over your mind, go and see the Colosseum by moonlight.

Notes.—­The Colosseum (pro.  Col-os-se’um) was commenced by the Roman emperor Vespasian, and was completed by Titus, his son, 79 A.D.  Its construction occupied but three years, notwithstanding its size; a great part of its walls are standing today.

The Circus Maximus was an amphitheater built by Tarquin the Elder about 600 B. C.

Constantine.  See note on page 175.

The Esquiline is one of the seven hills upon which Rome is built.  Un dona, an Italian phrase meaning a gift or alms.

CXI.  THE BRIDGE. (392)

I stood on the bridge at midnight,
  As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o’er the city,
  Behind the dark church tower.

I saw her bright reflection
  In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
  And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance
  Of that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the flaming furnace
  Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long, black rafters
  The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
  Seemed to lift and bear them away;

As, sweeping and eddying through them,
  Rose the belated tide,
And, streaming into the moonlight,
  The seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing
  Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o’er me
  That filled my eyes with tears

How often, oh, how often,
  In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight
  And gazed on that wave and sky!

How often, oh, how often,
  I had wished that the ebbing tide
Would bear me away on its bosom
  O’er the ocean wild and wide.

For my heart was hot and restless,
  And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
  Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,
  It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others
  Throws its shadow over me.

Yet, whenever I cross the river
  On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odor of brine from the ocean
  Comes the thought of other years.

And I think how many thousands
  Of care-encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
  Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession
  Still passing to and fro,
The young heart hot and restless,
  And the old, subdued and slow!