Mine are these Wonders, all thou see'st is mine;
But ah how chang'd! the falling poor Remains
Of what exalted once th'  Shore.
Look back thro' time; and from the gloom disclos'd,
Painting my words, behold the scatter'd Scene.
The Great Republick see! that glow'd sublime
With the mixt Freedom of a thousand States;
Rais'd on the Thrones of Kings her Curule Chair,
And by her Fasces aw'd the subject World.
See busy Millions swarming all the Land,
With Cities throng'd, and teeming Culture high:
For on her free-born Sons then Nature smil'd,
And pour'd the Plenty that belongs to Men.
Behold, the Country chearing, Villas rise,
In lively Prospect; by the secret lapse
Of Brooks now lost, and Streams renown'd in Song:
In  closing Vales, or on the brow
Of her brown Hills that breathe the scented gale:
On  viny coast; where peaceful Seas,
Fan'd by kind Zephirs, ever kiss the shore;
And Suns unclouded shine, and purest Air:
Or in the spacious Neighbourhood of ;
Far-shining upwards to the  Hills,
To  Roar, and  Olive Shade;
To where  lifts her airy Brow;
Or downwards spreading to the sunny shore,
Wav'd from the main, where  draws the Breeze.
See distant Mountains leave their Vallies dry,
And o'er the proud Arcade their Tribute pour,
To lave Imperial For ages laid
Deep, massy, firm, diverging every way,
From sea to sea, her Public Roads behold:
By various Nations trod, and suppliant Kings;
With Legions flaming, or with Triumph green.
Full in the Centre of these wondrous Works,
While Tombs of Heroes consecrate the way,
The Pride of Earth!  in her Glory see!
Behold her Demigods, in Senate met;
All Head to counsel, and all Heart to act:
The Commonweal inspiring every Tongue
With fervent Eloquence,  and ;
Ere low  taught the
To know a  voice. Astonish'd, mark
Her Forum, earnest, popular, and loud,
In trembling wonder hush'd, when the two SIRES,
As they the  greatly quell'd,
Stood up the  of the State.
See Justice judging there in Human Shape.
Hark how with Freedom's voice it thunders high,
Or in soft murmurs sinks to TULLY'S tongue.
Her Tribes, her Census see; her Generous Troops,
Whose Pay was Glory, and whose best Reward
Free for their Country and for ME to die;
Ere Mercenary Murder grew a Trade.
Mark, as the purple Triumph waves along,
The highest Pomp and lowest Fall of Life.
Her Festive Games, the School of Heroes, see;
Her Circus, ardent with contending Youth;
Her Streets, her Temples, Palaces, and Baths,
Full of fair Forms of Beauty's eldest born,
And of a Race by Plastic Virtue mark'd.
While Sculpture lives around, and  Hills
Lend their best Stores to heave the pillar'd Dome:
All that to  Grandeur the soft Touch
Of  Art can join. But Language fails
To paint this Sun, this Center of Mankind;
Where every Virtue, Glory, Treasure, Art,
Attracted strong, in heighten'd lustre met.