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Of this great man: their crime continues still; Committed against us was this offence.

Cicero ‘neath the tyrant's dagger fell, But Scipio, more unhappy, was exiled With yet his country free. Beside this shore He died; and still the ruins of his tomb Retain the name, "Tower of my native land:"* Touching allusion to the memory Which haunted his great soul.

Marius found a refuge in yon marsh† , Near to the Scipio’s home. Thus in all time Have nations persecuted their great men. But they enskied them after death‡ ; and Heaven, Where still the Romans deem’d they could command, Received amid her planets Romulus, Numa, and Caesar; new and dazzling stars! Mingling together in our erring gaze The rays of glory and celestial light.

And not enough alone of misery, The trace of crime is here. In yonder gulf behold The isle of Capri, where at length old age Disarm'd Tiberius; violent yet worn; Cruel, voluptuous; wearied e'en of crime, He sought yet viler pleasures; tis he were Not low enough debased by tyranny. And Agrippina's tomb is on these shores, Facing the isle §, rear'd after Nero's death; The murderer of his mother had proscribed Even her ashes. Long at Baiæ he dwelt Amid the memories of his many crimes. What wretches fate here brings before our eyes! Tiburius, Nero, on each other gaze.

The isles, volcano-born amid the sea, Served at their birth the crimes of the old world. The sorrowing exiles on these lonely rocks, Watched 'mid the waves their native land afar, Seeking to catch its perfumes in the air: