"DIEM PERDIDA."
The Emperor Titus, at the close of a day, in which he had neither gained knowledge, or conferred benefit, used to exclaim —"I have lost a day."
Why art thou sad,—thou of the sceptred hand?
The robed in purple, and the high in state?
Rome pours her myriads forth, a vassal band,
And foreign powers are crouching at thy gate,
Yet dost thou deeply sigh, as if oppressed by fate.
"Diem perdida!"—Pour the empire's treasure,
Uncounted gold, and gems of rainbow die,
Unlock the fountains of a monarch's pleasure
To lure the lost one back. I heard a cry,
One hour of parted time—a world is poor to buy.
"Diem perdida!"—'Tis a mournful story,
Thus in the ear of pensive eve to tell,
Of morning's firm resolves the vanished glory,
Hope's honey left within the withering bell,
And plants of mercy dead, which might have bloomed so well.
Hail, self-communing Emperor,—nobly wise!
There are, who, thoughtless, haste to life's last goal,
There are, who Time's long-squandered wealth despise,
Vitam perdida marks their finish scroll,
When Death's dark angel comes to claim the startled soul.