'Twas in the calm and silent night! The senator of haughty Rome Impatient, urged his chariot's flight, From lordly revel rolling home: Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell His breast with thoughts of boundless sway: What recked the Roman what befell A paltry province far away, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago?
Within that province far away Went plodding home a weary boor; A streak of light before him lay, Falling through a half shut stable-door Across his path. He passed--for naught Told what was going on within: How keen the stars, his only thought-- The air how calm, and cold and thin In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!
Oh, strange indifference! low and high Drowsed over common joys and cares; The earth was still--but knew not why, The world was listening, unawares. How calm a moment may precede One that shall thrill the world forever! To that still moment, none would heed, Man's doom was linked no more to sever-- In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!
It is the calm and silent night! A thousand bells ring out, and throw Their joyous peals abroad, and smite The darkness--charmed and holy now! The night that erst no name had worn, To it a happy name is given; For in that stable lay, new-born, The peaceful prince of earth and heaven, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!
Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been! On thy seven hills of yore Thou satt'st a queen.
Thou hadst thy triumphs then Purpling the street, Leaders and sceptred men Bow'd at thy feet.
They that thy mantle wore, As gods were seen-- Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been!
Rome! thine imperial brow Never shall rise: What hast thou left thee now?-- Thou hast thy skies!
Blue, deeply blue, they are, Gloriously bright! Veiling thy wastes afar, With color'd light.
Thou hast the sunset's glow, Rome, for thy dower, Flushing tall cypress bough, Temple and tower!
And all sweet sounds are thine, Lovely to hear, While night, o'er tomb and shrine Rests darkly clear.
Many a solemn hymn, By starlight sung, Sweeps through the arches dim, Thy wrecks among.
Many a flute's low swell, On thy soft air Lingers, and loves to dwell With summer there.
Thou hast the south's rich gift Of sudden song-- A charmed fountain, swift, Joyous and strong.