Rejoicing in the East.
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
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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: 187 187 146
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RGB: 229 229 200
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RGB: 220 219 167
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RGB: 248 248 225
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RGB: 251 251 237
Apollo mounts his golden seat,
Replete with seven-fold fire;
While, dazzled by his conquering light,
Heaven's glittering host and awful night
Submissively retire.