Midst fallen palaces she sits alone,
Calling heroic shades from ages gone,
Or bids the nations midst her deserts wait
To learn the fearful oracles of Fate!
“Still sleep’st thou, Roman? Son of Victory, rise!
Wake to obey th’ avenging Destinies!
Shed by thy mandate, soon thy country’s blood
Shall swell and darken Tiber’s yellow flood!
My children’s manès call—awake! prepare
The feast they claim!—exult in Rome’s despair!