LXXXIV. The dictatorial wreath,--couldst thou divine To what would one day dwindle that which made Thee more than mortal? and that so supine By aught than Romans Rome should thus be laid? She who was named eternal, and arrayed Her warriors but to conquer--she who veiled Earth with her haughty shadow, and displayed Until the o'er-canopied horizon failed, Her rushing wings--Oh! she who was almighty hailed!
Loading...