Classic Poem

Thou art the world's desired, the golden fleece,
Of Time's adventurers faring down to Hell,
But Helen's self dwelt not so far from peace
Nor so beset since lofty Ilium fell.
Tyrants would pluck thee as men pluck a rose,
Carthage and Greece, the Vandal and the Goth;
Now more are added to thy many foes
From East and West, ay, thou hast suffered both.

Greece was enslaved, and Carthage is but dust,
But thou art living, maugre all thy scars,
To bear fresh wounds of rapine and of lust,
Immortal victim of unnumbered wars.
Nor shalt thou cease until we cease to be
Whose hearts are thine, beloved Italy.