Sir Aubrey de Vere (1788–1846)

TAKE back these vain insignia of command,

Crown, truncheon, golden eagle, bawbles all,

And robe of Tyrian dye, to me a pall;

And be forever alien to my hand,

Though laurel-wreathed, War’s desolating brand.

I would have friends, not courtiers, in my hall;

Wise books, learn’d converse, beauty free from thrall,

And leisure for good deeds, thoughtfully planned.

Farewell, thou garish World! thou Italy,

False widow of departed Liberty!

I scorn thy base caresses. Welcome the roll,

Between us, of mine own bright Adrian sea!

Welcome these wilds, from whose bold heights my soul

Looks down on your degenerate Capitol!