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.

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