(a.d. 406)

My father's father saw it not,
And I, belike, shall never come,
To look on that so-holy spot--
The very Rome--

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height--
The Race began!

Soon to send forth again a brood,
Unshakeable, we pray, that clings,
To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood--
In arduous things.

Strong heart with triple armour bound,
Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
Age after Age, the Empire round--
In us thy Sons.

Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
Loving and serving much, require
Thee--thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills,
The Imperial Fire!