The fiery glance of the eagle eye

That marked the Roman’s haughty pride,

In the days of yore by the Tiber’s side?

The stern resolve of the patriot’s breast,

When the warrior’s zeal has sunk to rest?

No! Mercy has fled from the hardened heart,

And Justice and Truth in her steps depart,

And the fires of hell rage fierce and warm

Mid the fitful strife of the spirit’s storm.

But a wail is borne on the troubled air:

What victim comes those frowns to dare?

’Tis woman’s form and woman’s eye,

That Time hath passed full lightly by;

The limner’s art in vain might trace

The glorious beauty and winning grace

Of that fair girl; youth’s sunny day

Flings its radiance over life’s changing way:

Why has she left her princely home,