Shine like a precious jewel; ours the glory
Of those great Soldiers who by sea and land
Scattered the foemen to the winds of heaven,
First in the files of time. And though our mother,
Our Athens, sank, crushed by the might of Rome,
What is Rome now?—An Empire rent in twain;
An Empire sinking 'neath the unwieldy weight
Of its own power; an Empire where the Senate
Ranks lower than the Circus, and a wanton
Degrades the Imperial throne. But though to its fall