The voice of stirring multitudes to hear,
Which, like these waves, more vanishing than they,
Made vocal once these shores, now mute for aye!
River! to whom the ages brought—I cried,
Empire of old—and swept it from thy side!
Whose name, once sung by poet lips sublime,
Thanks to the bard, defies the lapse of time—
Who the world’s tyrants on thy shores didst see
Wander entranced, and crave their rest from thee;—
Tibullus breathing sighs of soft complaining—