Smile on the brow of the waters.
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
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First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of light
At such a distance from our eyes, as though
He knew what harm his hasty beams would do.
HEX: #0C2445
RGB: 12 36 69
RGB: 12 36 69
HEX: #453C57
RGB: 69 60 87
RGB: 69 60 87
HEX: #000D35
RGB: 0 13 53
RGB: 0 13 53
HEX: #706174
RGB: 112 97 116
RGB: 112 97 116
HEX: #928090
RGB: 146 128 144
RGB: 146 128 144
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.
