To The Fragment Of A Statue Of Hercules, Commonly Called The Torso.
By Samuel Rogers
And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,
(Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl'd)
Still sit as on the fragment of a world;
Surviving all, majestic and alone?
What tho' the Spirits of the North, that swept
Rome from the earth, when in her pomp she slept,
Smote thee with fury, and thy headless trunk
Deep in the dust mid tower and temple sunk;
Soon to subdue mankind 'twas thine to rise.
Still, still unquell'd thy glorious energies!
Aspiring minds, with thee conversing, caught [1]
Bright revelations of the Good they sought;
By thee that long-lost spell [2] in secret given,
To draw down Gods, and lift the soul to Heav'n!