Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault
Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
Draw read more

Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault
Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
Draw them to the Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
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Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dread.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:--
Rome, Rome, thou art no more
As thou hast been.