And placed his name where it will shine like stars amid the night;
And then bright eyes would brighter beam, despite the truant tear;
Oh! was not the world beautiful when minstrelsy was here?
This world of ours was beautiful when Rome was great and free,
And proudly shone her mountain-bird, the type of Liberty;
When Freedom found a resting-place within those trophied walls,
And circled with her eagle wing its temples and its halls;
When on the yellow Tiber’s wave the shouts of victory came,
And pride and glory mingled with the conqueror’s lauded name;
Then came the proud triumphal march, the heroes crowned with bays;