Classic Poem

Keen was the vision which Ambition lent
To Rome's great captains, when the vacant realm
Was waiting for a chief to seize the helm,
And their stern martial looks were southward bent
From Gaul or Britain, like a wizard's gaze
Constraining some weak victim to his harm,
While yet the nations had no countercharm
Against a despot's eye, in those fierce days;
The city of their greed seem'd well-nigh theirs,
Half in their grasp, full clearly bodied forth;
My Rome should softly float into the north
At my fond wish, convoy'd by gentle airs —
Rapt into Freedom's land a little while
From Pio's grief, and Antonelli's guile!