ance of Matilda, carrying war into Italy and around the city of Rome. He had now so far succeeded that the Roman people, inclining to his party, were harassing that of Guibert, both by words and blows; nor did the one faction spare the other, either in the churches or in the streets, until Guibert, being weakest, left the see vacant for Urban, and fled to Germany.
Of Rome, formerly the mistress of the globe, but which now, in comparison of its ancient state, appears a small town; and of the Romans, once "Sovereigns over all and the gowned nation,"[1] who are now the most fickle of men, bartering justice for gold, and dispensing with the canons for money; of this city and its inhabitants, I say, whatever I might attempt to write, has been anticipated by the verses of Hildebert, first, bishop of Mans, and afterwards archbishop of Tours.[2] Which I insert, not to assume the honour acquired by another man's labour, but rather as a proof of a liberal mind, while not envying his fame, I give testimony to his charming poetry.
Thy former greatness mournfully declare,
Though time thy stately palaces around
Hath strewed, and cast thy temples to the ground.
Fall'n is the power, the power Araxes dire
Regrets now gone, and dreaded when entire;
Which arms and laws, and ev'n the gods on high
Bade o'er the world assume the mastery;
Which guilty Cæsar rather had enjoyed
Alone, than e'er a fostering hand employed.
Which gave to foes, to vice, to friends its care,
Subdued, restrained, or bade its kindness share
This growing power the holy fathers reared.
Where near the stream the fav'ring spot appeared
From either pole, materials, artists meet,
And rising wails their proper station greet;
Kings gave their treasures, fav'ring too was fate.
And arts and riches on the structure wait.
Fall'n is that city, whose proud fame to reach,
I merely say, "Rome was," there fails my speech.
