Lie spread beneath; not now her glance
Roves o’er that vast sublime expanse;
Inspired, and bright with hope,’tis thrown
On Adrian’s massy tomb alone;
There, from the storm, when Freedom fled,
His faithful few Crescentius led;
While she, his anxious bride, who now
Bends o’er the scene her youthful brow,
Sought refuge in the hallow’d fane,
Which then could shelter, not in vain.