Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border.
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With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dead.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:-
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been.
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RGB: 62 40 29
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RGB: 72 96 46
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RGB: 234 214 91
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RGB: 105 172 251
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RGB: 245 248 201
By Clyde's meandering stream,
When Sol in joy is seen to leave
The earth with crimson beam;
When islands that wandered far
Above his sea couch lie,
And here and there some gem-like star
Re-opes its sparkling eye.
