Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
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: 95 83 50
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RGB: 108 94 56
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RGB: 71 60 30
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RGB: 128 111 61
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RGB: 174 161 125
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.
