Last Update: Feb.  20, 2010  Navigation:  Main Menu    Poe's Works    Poe's Poems
Text: Edgar Allan Poe, "The Coliseum" (K), The Poetry of the Sentiments, 1845, pp. 53-54

[page 53:]


    TYPE of the antique Rome! rich reliquary
Of lofty contemplation, left to Time
By buried centuries of pomp and power!
At length, at length — after so many days
Of weary pilgrimage, and burning thirst,
(Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie,)
I kneel, an alter'd and an humble man,
Within thy shadows — and so drink, within
My very soul, thy grandeur, gloom, and glory!

    Vastness, and age! and memories of old!
Silence, and desolation, and dim night!
I feel ye now — I feel ye in your strength.
O, spells more sure than e'er Judæan king
Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane!
O, charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee
Ever drew down from out the quiet stars!

    Here, where a hero fell, a column falls!
Here, where the mimic eagle glared in gold,
A midnight vigil holds the swarthy bat!
Here, where the dames of Rome their gilded hair
Waved to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle!
Here, where on ivory couch the monarch loll'd, [page 54:]
Glides, spectre-like, unto his marble home,
Lit by the wan light of the horned moon,
The swift and silent lizard of the stones!

    But hold! —  these dark, theser perishing arcades,
These mouldering plinths, these sad and blacken'd shafts,
These vague entablatures, this crumbling frieze,
These shatter'd cornices, this wreck, this ruin,
These stones — alas! these gray stones, are they all,
All of the proud and the colossal left
By the corrosive hours, to fate and me?

    "Not all," the Echoes answer me — "not all!
Prophetic sounds, and loud, arise for ever
From us, and from all ruin, to the wise,
As melody from Memnon to the sun.
We rule the hearts of mightiest men; we rule,
With a despotic sway, all giant minds.
We are not impotent, we pallid stones;
Not all our power is gone, not all our fame,
Not all the magic of our high renown,
Not all the wonder that encircles us,
Not all the mysteries that in us lie,
Not all the memories that hang upon
And cling around about us as a garment,
Clothing us in a robe of more than glory."


This book was edited by Rufus Wilmot Griswold, and enjoyed numerous repritns until at least 1889, presumably from stereoplates. This poem appears in a section bearing the title "Admiration." In the original, each page features an ornate oval border of vines and flowers.

[S:0 - PS, 1845 (1853)] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - Poems - The Coliseum (K)