At the Roman Forum

Vladyslav Nazarchuk

In autumntide, a city once most fair
I see in ruin. Splendor now concealed,
Its stones like bones lie scattered in a field
At which a foreign throng, like vultures, stare.

The place where virgins tended Vesta’s flare,
And doom of Carthage was by Cato sealed;
Where Constantine before the Cross had kneeled,
Now houses melancholy and despair.

Alas! A lover’s tears, when day by day
He comes to weep upon his loved one’s tomb,
As cypress trees will grow, and share his rue.
In mem’ry’s shade I’ll let these ruins stay,
For I have hope again to see them bloom
When Christ in glory forms the world anew.