Bursting in that terrific hour
From fane and palace, dome and tower,
Reveal’d the throngs, for aid divine,
Clinging to many a worshipp’d shrine:
Fierce fitful radiance wildly shed
O’er spear and sword, with carnage red,
Shone o’er the suppliant and the flying,
And kindled pyres for Romans dying.
Weep, Italy! alas, that e’er
Should tears alone thy wrongs declare!