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 * Yes! in those scenes, where every ancient stream,

Bids memory kindle o'er some lofty theme; Where teems the soil with records of renown, Fame's mouldering trophies, Empire's ravish'd crown, And the deep tones of Inspiration swell, From each wild Olive-wood, and Alpine dell; Where heroes slumber, on their battle plains, 'Midst prostrate altars, and deserted fanes, And Fancy communes, in each lonely spot, With shades of those who ne'er shall be forgot; There was your home, and there your power imprest, With tenfold awe, the pilgrim's glowing breast; And, as the wind's deep thrills, and mystic sighs, Wake the wild harp to loftiest harmonies, Thus at your influence, starting from repose, Thought, Feeling, Fancy, into grandeur rose.


 * Fair Florence! Queen of Arno's lovely vale!

Justice and Truth indignant heard thy tale,