VIII
Claude to Eustace
No, great Dome of Agrippa, thou art not Christian! canst not,Strip and replaster and daub and do what they will with thee, be so!Here underneath the great porch of colossal Corinthian columns,Here as I walk, do I dream of the Christian belfries above them?Or, on a bench as I sit and abide for long hours, till thy whole vastRound grows dim as in dreams to my eyes, I repeople thy niches,Not with the Martyrs, and Saints, and Confessors, and Virgins, and children,But with the mightier forms of an older, austerer worship;And I recite to myself, howEager for battle hereStood Vulcan, here matronal Juno,And with the bow to his shoulder faithfulHe who with pure dew laveth of CastalyHis flowing locks, who holdeth of LyciaThe oak forest and the wood that bore him,Delos’ and Patara’s own Apollo. *
* Hic avidus stetitVulcanus, hic matrona Juno, etNunquam humeris positurus arcum;Qui rore puro Castaliae lavitCrines solutos, qui Lyciae tenetDumeta natalemque silvam,Delius et Patareus Apollo.