Text: Edgar Allan Poe (ed. Killis Campbell), “The Coliseum,” The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe, Ginn and Company, 1917, pp. 75-76


[page 75:]




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 altered and an humble man,


Amid thy shadows, and so drink within


My very soul thy grandeur, gloom, and glory!


Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!


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! [page 76:]


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 golden throne the monarch lolled,

Glides, spectre-like, unto his marble home,


Lit by the wan light of the hornéd moon,


The swift and silent lizard of the stones!



But stay! these walls — these ivy-clad arcades —

These mouldering plinths — these sad and blackened shafts —


These vague entablatures — this crumbling frieze —

These shattered cornices — this wreck — this ruin —



These stones — alas! these gray stones — are they all —



All of the famed, 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 forever



From us, and from all Ruin, unto 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.”




[The following variants appear at the bottom of page 75:]

Title The Coliseum. A Prize Poem (S.L.M., S.E.P.), Coliseum (P.P.A.).

1 B.S.V. prefixes the line Lone amphitheatre! Grey Coliseum!

6 lore: love (B.S.V.).

8 Amid: Within (P.P.A.).

11 B.S.V. and S.L.M. insert after this line:

Gaunt vestibules! and phantompeopled aisles!

20 gilded: yellow (B.S.V., S.L.M.).

21 B.S.V. and S.L.M. insert after this line the following:

Here, where on ivory couch the Cesar sate,

On bed of moss lies gloating the foul adder.

So also P.P.A., save that it reads golden throne instead of ivory couch.

[The following variants appear at the bottom of page 76:]

26 These crumbling walls; these tottering arcades (B.S.V., S.L.M.); But hold! — these dark, these perishing arcades (P.P.A.).

28 crumbling: broken (B.S.V., S.L.M., P.P.A.).

31 famed: great (B.S.V., S.L.M.), grand (S.E.P.), proud (P.P.A.).

35 unto: to (P.P.A.).

36 melody: in old days (B.S.V., S.L.M.).

39 impotent: desolate (B.S.V., S.L.M.).

45 as a garment: now and ever (B.S.V.).

46 Clothing: And clothe (B.S.V.).







[S:0 - KCP, 1917] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - The Coliseum (ed. K. Campbell, 1917)