Unhappy Italy! whose alter'd state
Has felt the worst severity of fate:
Not that Barbarian hands her Fasces broke,
And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke;
Not that her palaces to earth are thrown,
Her cities desart, and her fields unsown;
But that her ancient spirit is decay'd,
That sacred Wisdom from her bounds is fled,
That there the source of Science flows no more,
Whence its rich streams supply'd the world before.