XLIX

       Go thou to Rome—at once the Paradise,
       The grave, the city, and the wilderness;
       And where its wrecks like shatter’d mountains rise,
       And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress
       The bones of Desolation’s nakedness
       Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead
       Thy footsteps to a slope of green access
       Where, like an infant’s smile, over the dead
A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread;

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