Yes—Pindemonte!
The aspiring soul is fired to lofty deeds
By great men’s monuments—and they make fair
And holy to the pilgrim’s eye, the earth
That has received their trust. When I beheld
The spot where sleeps enshrined that noble genius[4]
Who, humbling the proud sceptres of earth’s kings,
Stripped thence the illusive wreaths, and showed the nations
What tears and blood defiled them—when I saw
His mausoleum,[5] who upreared in Rome