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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, And sternly smil'd, in retribution's hour, To wrest thy treasures from the Spoiler's power. Too long the spirits of thy noble dead Mourn'd o'er the domes they rear'd in ages fled. Those classic scenes their pride so richly graced, Temples of genius, palaces of taste, Too long, with sad and desolated mien, Revealed where conquest's lawless track had been;