O lost, devoted Roman! yet thy brow,
To that ascendant and undying name,
Pleads with stem loftiness thy right e’en now.
Thy glory is departed, but hath left
A lingering light around thee: in decay
Not less than kingly—though of all bereft,
Thou seem’st as empire had not pass’d away.
Supreme in ruin! teaching hearts elate
A deep prophetic dread of still mysterious fate!
But thou, enchantress queen! whose love hath made