Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 17 1826.pdf/14



Roma, Roma, Roma! Non è più come era prima.

, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been! On thy Seven Hills of yore Thou sat'st a Queen.

Thou hadst thy triumphs then Purpling the street: Leaders and sceptred men Bow'd at thy feet.

They that thy mantle wore, As gods were seen: Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been!

Rome! thine imperial brow Never shall rise: What hast thou left thee now?— Thou hast thy skies!

Blue, deeply blue, they are, Gloriously bright! Veiling thy wastes afar With colour'd light.

Thou hast the sunset's glow, Rome! for thy dower, Flushing dark cypress-bough, Temple and tower:

And all sweet sounds are thine, Lovely to hear; While Night, o'er tomb and shrine, Rests darkly clear.

Many a solemn hymn, By starlight sung, Sweeps through the arches dim Thy wrecks among.

Many a flute's low swell On thy soft air, Lingers and loves to dwell With Summer there.

Thou hast the South's rich gift Of sudden song; A charmed fountain swift, Joyous and strong:

Thou hast fair forms that move With queenly tread; Thou hast rich fanes above Thy mighty dead.

Yet wears thy Tiber's shore A mournful mien: Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been! F. H.