From “Childe Harold,” Canto IV.
  ARCHES on arches! as it were that Rome,
  Collecting the chief trophies of her line,
  Would build up all her triumphs in one dome,
  Her Coliseum stands; the moonbeams shine
  As ’t were its natural torches, for divine
  Should be the light which streams here, to illume
  This long-explored, but still...