ITALIA! thou, by lavish Nature graced
With ill-starr'd beauty, which to thee hath been
A fatal dowry, whose effects are traced
In the deep sorrows graven on thy mien;
Oh! that more strength, or fewer charms were thine,
That those might fear thee more, or love thee less,
Who seem to worship at thy beauty's shrine,
Then leave thee to the death-pang's bitterness
Not then the herds of Gaul would drain the tide
Of that Eridanus thy blood hath dyed;
Nor from the Alps would legions, still renew'd,
Pour down; nor wouldst thou wield a foreign brand,
Nor fight thy battles with the stranger's hand,
Still doomed to serve, subduing or subdued!