Classic Poem

Therefore, proud Italy, I, by God's grace,
After six years come back to gaze on thee,
This only, for barbarians fill the place
Where I once lay upon they breast, ah me!
With tearful eyes and drooping head I greet
The country of my birth, to her I yearn
With pain and fear and anger, stripped of sweet
Delight and every hope. Then I return
Again beyond the Alps, all wreathed with snow,
To honest Gallic earth, a better friend
To strangers than thou art unto thine own!
There, in a sheltered haven till the end
I will abide, mid those cool valleys lone,
Since Heaven agrees and thou hast willed it so.