The Sibyl's Cave at Cuma

Cumean Sibyl! from thy sultry cave
Thy dark eyes level with the sulphurous ground
Through the gloom flashing, roll in wrath around.
What see they? Coasts perpetual earthquakes pave
With ruin; piles half buried in the wave;
Wrecks of old times and new in lava drowned; —
And festive crowds, sin-steeped ami myrtle-crowned.
Like idiots dancing on a parent's grave.
And they foresee. Those pallid lips with pain
Suppress their thrilling whispers. Sibyl, spare!
Could Wisdom's voice divide yon sea, or rear
A new Vesuvius from its flaming plane,
Futile the warning! Power despised! forbear
To deepen guilt by counsel breathed in vain!