Swift without violence, without terror great.
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
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And bright were its flowery banks to his eye;
But far, very far, were the friends that he lov'd,
And he gaz'd on its flowery banks with a sigh.
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RGB: 55 4 33
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RGB: 73 2 38
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RGB: 0 43 53
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RGB: 25 27 62
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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.
