Pompeii And Herculaneum.

What wonder this? we ask the lympid well,     O earth! of thee and from thy solemn womb     What yieldest thou? is there life in the abyss     Doth a new race beneath the lava dwell?     Returns the past, awakening from the tomb?     Rome Greece! Oh, come! Behold behold! for this!     Our living world the old Pompeii sees;     And built anew the town of Dorian Hercules!     House upon house its silent halls once more     Opes the broad portico! Oh, haste and fill     Again those halls with life! Oh, pour along     Through the seven-vista'd theatre the throng!     Where are ye, mimes? Come forth, the steel prepare     For crowned Atrides, or Orestes haunt,     Ye choral Furies, with your dismal chant!     The arch of triumph! whither leads it? still     Behold the forum! on the curule chair     Where the majestic image? Lictors, where     Your solemn fasces? Place upon his throne     The Praetor here the witness lead, and there     Bid the accuser stand                  O God! how lone     The clear streets glitter in the quiet day     The footpath by the doors winding its lifeless way!     The roofs arise in shelter, and around     The desolate Atrium every gentle room     Wears still the dear familiar smile of home!     Open the doors the shops on dreary night     Let lusty day laugh down in jocund light!     See the trim benches ranged in order! See     The marble-tesselated floor and there     The very walls are glittering livingly     With their clear colors. But the artist, where!     Sure but this instant he hath laid aside     Pencil and colors! Glittering on the eye     Swell the rich fruits, and bloom the flowers! See all     Art's gentle wreaths still fresh upon the wall!     Here the arch Cupid slyly seems to glide     By with bloom-laden basket. There the shapes     Of genii press with purpling feet the grapes,     Here springs the wild Bacchante to the dance,     And there she sleeps [while that voluptuous trance     Eyes the sly faun with never-sated glance]     Now on one knee upon the centaur-steeds     Hovering the Thyrsus plies. Hurrah! away she speeds!     Come come, why loiter ye? Here, here, how fair     The goodly vessels still! Girls, hither turn,     Fill from the fountain the Etruscan urn!     On the winged sphinxes see the tripod.                         Ho!     Quick quick, ye slaves, come fire! the hearth prepare!     Ha! wilt thou sell? this coin shall pay thee this,     Fresh from the mint of mighty Titus! Lo!     Here lie the scales, and not a weight we miss     So bring the light! The delicate lamp! what toil     Shaped thy minutest grace! quick pour the oil!     Yonder the fairy chest! come, maid, behold     The bridegroom's gifts the armlets they are gold,     And paste out-feigning jewels! lead the bride     Into the odorous bath lo! unguents still     And still the crystal vase the arts for beauty fill!     But where the men of old perchance a prize     More precious yet in yon papyrus lies,     And see ev'n still the tokens of their toil     The waxen tablets the recording style.     The earth, with faithful watch, has hoarded all!     Still stand the mute penates in the hall;     Back to his haunts returns each ancient god.     Why absent only from their ancient stand     The priests? waves Hermes his Caducean rod,     And the winged victory struggles from the hand.     Kindle the flame behold the altar there!     Long hath the god been worshipless to prayer.