Here you will find thePoemA New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXVIof poet Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The majesty of Rome to me is nought; The imperial story of her conquering car Touches me only with compassionate thought For the doomed nations faded by her star. Her palaces of Caesars tombstones are For a whole world of freedoms vainly caught In her high fortune. Throned was she in war; By war she perished. So is justice wrought. A nobler Rome is here, which shall not die. She rose from the dead ashes of men's lust, And robed herself anew in chastity, And half redeemed man's heritage of dust. This Rome I fain would love, though darkly hid In mists of passion and desires scarce dead.
