“Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime
⁠Shrine of all saints and temple of all Gods,
⁠From Jove to Jesus—spared and blest by Time
⁠Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods
⁠Arch—empire—each thing round thee—and Man plods
⁠His way through thorns to ashes—glorious Dome!
⁠Shalt thou not last? Time’s scythe and Tyrants’ rods
⁠Shiver upon thee—sanctuary and home
Of Art and Piety—Pantheon!—pride of Rome!

Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts!
⁠Despoiled yet perfect! with thy circle spreads
⁠A holiness appealing to all hearts;
⁠To Art a model—and to him who treads
⁠Rome for the sake of ages. Glory sheds
⁠Her light through thy sole aperture; to those
⁠Who worship, here are altars for their beads
⁠And they who feel for Genius may repose
Their eyes on honoured forms, whose busts around them close…” (Byron)