XV
You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,
Who joyful in the bright light of day
Created all that arrogant display,
Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:
Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit
Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,
Enclosing you in thrice array,
Sight of your dark images, may permit),
Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,
Here above, may yet be hid from view)
Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,
When from hour to hour in Roman lands
You contemplate the work of your hands,
Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,
Who joyful in the bright light of day
Created all that arrogant display,
Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:
Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit
Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,
Enclosing you in thrice array,
Sight of your dark images, may permit),
Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,
Here above, may yet be hid from view)
Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,
When from hour to hour in Roman lands
You contemplate the work of your hands,
Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
Du Bellay - The Ruins of Rome
