ROMAN GIRL'S SONG. Roma, Roma, Roma! Non è più come era prima. ROME, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been! On thy seven hills of yore Thou sat'st a queen. Thou hadst thy triumphs then Purpling the street, Leaders and sceptred men Bow'd at thy feet. They that thy mantle wore, As gods were seen Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been ! Rome! thine imperial brow Never shall rise : What hast thou left thee now? Thou hast thy skies! Blue, deeply blue, they are, Gloriously bright! Veiling thy wastes afar With color'd light. Thou hast the sunset's glow, Flushing tall cypress-bough, And all sweet sounds are thine, Lovely to hear, While night, o'er tomb and shrine, Rests darkly clear. Many a solemn hymn, By starlight sung, Sweeps through the arches dim, Thy wrecks among. Many a flute's low swell, On thy soft air Lingers, and loves to dwell Thou hast the South's rich gift Of sudden song, A charmed fountain, swift, Joyous, and strong. Thou hast fair forms that move 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! THE DISTANT SHIP. THE sea-bird's wing, o'er ocean's breast Shoots like a glancing star, While the red radiance of the west Spreads kindling fast and far; And yet that splendor wins thee not,— Of all the main and sky. Look round thee !-o'er the slumbering deep A solemn glory broods; A fire hath touch'd the beacon-steep, And all the golden woods! |