I see my forehead crowned With a coronal of faces, Where the gleam of living graces Each to other keeps them bound; Leaning forward in a throng, I the centre of their eyes, Voices mute, that erst in song Stilled the heart from all but sighs Now in thirsty draughts they take At open eyes and ears, the Truth Spoken for their love and youth Hot, alas!

Far from our isle, our foes; the doom to tell, To wife and child, of those they loved so well; While the old race enjoy once more the lands Spoiled and insulted erst by alien hands!

Then bring me not the blossoms young, That erst on Flora's forehead hung; But round thy radiant temples twine, The flowers whose flaunting mocks at mine.

Thus we, that erst with terrors did attaint The Bactrian bounds, and in our Roman wars Enforc'd the barbarous borderers of the Alps To tremble with the terrors of our looks, Now fly, poor men, affrighted without harms: Seeking amidst the desert rocks and dens For him, that whilom in our capitol Even with a beck commanded Asia.

though now along the shade Where erst at will the grey-clad peasant strayed, Gleam war's discordant garments through the trees, And the red banner mocks the froward breeze; 1820.