Chapter 36

But here, where murder breathed her bloody steam; And here, where buzzing nations choked the ways, And roared or murmured like a mountain-stream Dashing or winding as its torrent strays; Here, where the Roman million's blame or praise Was death or life, the playthings of a crowd, My voice sounds much--and fall the stars' faint rays On the arena void--seats crushed, walls bowed, And galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangely loud. CXLIII. A ruin--yet what ruin! from its mass Walls, palac…