"Quo Vadis"

It is as if imperial trumpets broke
  Again the silence on War's iron height;
  And Cæsar's armored legions marched to fight,
  While Rome, blood-red upon her mountain-yoke,
  Blazed like an awful sunset. At a stroke,
  Again I see the living torches light
  The horrible revels, and the bloated, white,
  Bayed brow of Nero smiling through the smoke:
  And here and there a little band of slaves
  Among dark ruins; and the form of Paul,
  Bearded and gaunt, expounding still the Word:
  And towards the North the tottering architraves
  Of empire; and, wild-waving over all,
  The flaming figure of a Gothic sword.