| Here, where a hero fell, a column falls!
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| Here, a mimic eagle glared in gold
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| A midnight vigil holds the swarthy bat!
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| Here, where the dames of Rome their glided hair
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| Waved to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle!
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| Here, where on golden throne the monarch lolled
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| Glides, spectre-like, unto his marble home
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| Lit by the wan light of the horned moon
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| The swift and silent lizard of the stone!
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| (Edgar Allan Poe)
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| Behold, rayed with stars, the colossus views heaven anear
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| What race so distant or barbarous might be absent now from here
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| Rulers of the past brought ailings to the poor
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| Under, Caesar, your guidance, to itself Rome you restore
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| And the gods are now appeared
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| And one hundred days we feast
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| Diverse is the throng, yet acclaims you as one tongue, the country’s father true
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| Let the past not boast, for every grandiose ghost the arena brings for you
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| The dreaded minotaur that a woman bore from her dangerous tryst
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| Bacchus gained his breath from his mother’s death and so was born a beast
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| Power on display — the games of Titus
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| Woe to the foes who would dare to fight us
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| «In death we salute thee»
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| Two men fight to kill, and by Caesar’s will glory is split in half
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| Orpheus unaware is eaten by a bear and the people laugh
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| An army fights and dies before your very eyes as two ships collide
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| In a sea of blood, merciless red flood, countless men have died
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| Power on display — the games of Titus
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| Woe to the foes who would dare to fight us
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| «In death we salute thee»
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| Power on display — the games of Titus
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| Woe to the foes who would dare to fight us
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| Behold the Divine, for beasts don’t utter lies
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| To yield the stronger is valour’s second prize
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| Heavy is the palm the weaker foeman wins
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| But now, o Caesar, you’ve come to redeem Rome of its sins |