Roman Ruins Poem by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton

How could Rome live so long, and now be dead?
How came this waste and wilderness of stones?
How shows the orbèd monster, so long fed
On martyr--blood, his bare and crumbling bones?
Did the strong Faith, that built eight hundred years
Of world--dominion on a robber's name,
Once animate this corse, and fervent seers
Augur it endless life and shadeless fame?
Stranger! if thou a docile heart dost bring
Within thee, bear a timely precept hence;
That Power, mere Power, is but a barren thing,
Even when it seems most like omnipotence;
The forms must pass,--and past, they leave behind
Little to please, and nought to bless mankind.