The time hath been when thy distress
Had roused up empires for redress!
Now, her long race of glory run,
Without a combat Rome is won,
And from her plunder’d temples forth
Rush the fierce children of the North,
To share beneath more genial skies
Each joy their own rude clime denies.
Ye who on bright Campania’s shore
Bade your fair villas rise of yore,