THE WORKS OF ART TO ITALY.
23
Hail to that scene again, where Genius caught
From thee its fervors of diviner thought!
Where He, th' inspired One, whose gigantic mind,
Lived in some sphere, to him alone assigned;
Who from the past, the future, and th' unseen,
Could call up forms of more than earthly mien;
Unrivalled Angels, on thee would gaze,
Till his full soul imbibed perfection's blaze!
And who but he, that Prince of Art, might dare
Thy sovereign greatness view without despair?
Emblem of Rome! from power's meridian hurled,
Yet claiming still the homage of the world.
What hadst thou been, ere barbarous hands defaced
The work of wonder, idolized by taste?
Oh! worthy still of some divine abode,
2[1] Mould of a Conqueror! ruin of a God!
- ↑
