﻿THE 
  SPLENDOR 
  OF 
  ROME 
  

  

  613 
  

  

  while 
  the 
  other, 
  lest 
  

   his 
  head 
  be 
  turned, 
  

   whispers 
  constantly, 
  

   "Hominem 
  te 
  me- 
  

   mento" 
  (Remember, 
  

   thou 
  art 
  a 
  man). 
  

  

  After 
  the 
  conqueror 
  

   the 
  legions 
  who 
  fought 
  

   for 
  him, 
  the 
  soldiers, 
  

   true 
  sons 
  of 
  Romulus 
  

   and 
  Mars, 
  who 
  car- 
  

   ried 
  the 
  Roman 
  eagles 
  

   beyond 
  the 
  Mediter- 
  

   ranean, 
  over 
  the 
  Alps, 
  

   whose 
  rhythmic 
  foot- 
  

   fall 
  resounds 
  for 
  all 
  

   time 
  on 
  the 
  roads 
  they 
  

   laid. 
  By 
  thousands 
  

   they 
  come, 
  shouting, 
  

   singing, 
  rejoicing; 
  for 
  

   this 
  day 
  they 
  had 
  en- 
  

   dured 
  privation, 
  hard 
  

   march 
  and 
  scanty 
  rest 
  ; 
  

   for 
  this 
  day 
  they 
  had 
  

   suffered 
  and 
  striven, 
  

   for 
  it 
  some 
  had 
  died. 
  

   Caesar 
  did 
  not 
  triumph 
  

   alone; 
  theirs, 
  too, 
  was 
  

   the 
  glory. 
  

  

  The 
  spoils 
  are 
  heap- 
  

   ed 
  in 
  great 
  mounds 
  

   about 
  the 
  hill 
  ; 
  the 
  

   slaves 
  are 
  collected 
  ; 
  

   the 
  great 
  captive 
  goes 
  

   to 
  that 
  hideous 
  under- 
  

   ground 
  prison, 
  old 
  al- 
  

   most 
  as 
  Rome 
  (the 
  

   Tullianum 
  or 
  Mamer- 
  

   tine 
  Prison), 
  to 
  die 
  

   more 
  or 
  less 
  quickly 
  ; 
  the 
  victor 
  leaves 
  his 
  

   chariot 
  and 
  slowly 
  mounts 
  the 
  hill. 
  

  

  The 
  legions 
  go 
  to 
  their 
  camp 
  outside 
  

   the 
  wall, 
  the 
  people 
  scatter, 
  and 
  in 
  the 
  

   coming 
  dusk 
  the 
  conqueror 
  of 
  the 
  world 
  

   kneels 
  to 
  give 
  back 
  unto 
  the 
  king 
  of 
  gods 
  

   and 
  men 
  the 
  golden 
  laurel 
  he 
  had 
  worn 
  

   a 
  little 
  while. 
  

  

  THP, 
  DAYS 
  OF 
  TRIUMPHS 
  VANISH 
  

  

  The 
  days 
  of 
  Triumphs 
  vanish, 
  the 
  

   sound 
  of 
  shouting 
  dies, 
  the 
  Roman 
  eagles 
  

   cease 
  to 
  soar, 
  the 
  golden 
  laurel 
  dims. 
  

   After 
  Constantine 
  leaves 
  Rome 
  for 
  his 
  

   Eastern 
  capital, 
  the 
  Empire 
  wanes. 
  

  

  Hunted, 
  hidden, 
  despised, 
  tortured, 
  

   martyred, 
  but 
  steadfast, 
  eventually 
  the 
  

   Christians 
  peacefully 
  conquer 
  Rome. 
  

  

  Photograph 
  by 
  Victor 
  Cushman 
  

   DAUGHTKRS 
  OP 
  ROMP, 
  THp 
  MOTHpR 
  OP 
  CIVILIZATION 
  

  

  Many 
  are 
  the 
  beautiful 
  stories 
  told 
  of 
  

   them, 
  stories 
  that 
  are 
  our 
  common 
  her- 
  

   itage. 
  It 
  is 
  a 
  pity 
  that 
  the 
  poor 
  taste 
  and 
  

   superstition 
  of 
  the 
  Middle 
  Ages 
  should 
  so 
  

   have 
  twisted 
  and 
  turned 
  and 
  overadorned 
  

   them 
  that 
  we 
  turn 
  from 
  them 
  disdainfully 
  

   today. 
  Because 
  of 
  their 
  incredibly 
  mys- 
  

   tic 
  or 
  miraculous 
  trappings, 
  we 
  will 
  none 
  

   of 
  them, 
  losing 
  the 
  beautiful, 
  dignified 
  

   truth 
  beneath. 
  

  

  Rome 
  has 
  so 
  many 
  legends, 
  so 
  many 
  

   stories, 
  and 
  under 
  their 
  picturesque 
  sur- 
  

   face 
  is 
  ever 
  a 
  solid 
  stratum 
  of 
  reality. 
  

   Some 
  of 
  the 
  stories 
  are 
  pretty, 
  but 
  more 
  

   ugly 
  ; 
  some 
  are 
  sweet 
  and 
  sad 
  and 
  some 
  

   bold 
  and 
  brave 
  ; 
  some 
  are 
  sordid 
  and 
  mean 
  

   beyond 
  telling; 
  occasionally 
  one 
  is 
  amus- 
  

   ing, 
  but 
  more 
  often 
  they 
  are 
  bitter 
  and 
  

  

  