ITALIA! in thy bleeding heart I thought e'er hope was dead, That from thy scarr'd and prostrate form The spark of life had fled. I thought as memory's sunset glow Its radiance o'er thee cast, That all thy glory and thy fame Were buried in the past. Twice mistress of the world! I thought Thy star had set in gloom, That all thy shrines and monuments Were but thy spirit tomb; The mausoleum of the world Where Art her spoils might keep; Where pilgrims from all shrines might come To wander and to weep. The thunders of the Vatican Had long since died away, Saint Peter's chair seem'd tottering, And crumbling to decay. Thy ancient line of Pontiff kings Were to the past allied; And oft in Freedom's holy ward They fought not on her side. The sacred honour of the Cross Was trailing, soil'd, and torn; And often had the hostile ranks That blessed ensign borne. But from her death-like slumber now, The seven-hilled city wakes; Italia! on thy shrouded sky A gleam of morning breaks. Along the Alps and Appenines Runs an electric thrill; A golden splendour lights once more The Capitolian hill. And hopes bright as thy sunny skies Are o'er thy future cast; The future that upon thee beams As glorious as thy past. The laurels that thy Caesars wore Were dyed with crimson stains; Their triumphs glitter'd with the spoil, Won on the battle plains. But for thy Pontiff Prince to-day A laurel mightst thou twine, Unsullied as the spotless life He lays upon thy shrine. For him might the triumphal car Ascend the hill again; No slaves bound to the chariot wheels Should swell the lengthen'd train. Such trains as in her proudest days Was never seen in Rome -- Of captives from the dungeon freed -- Of exiles welcomed home. When gazing on the doubtful strife, The Hebrew leader pray'd; The friends of Israel gather'd round, His drooping hands they stay'd. And thus around the Patriarch's chair The friends of Freedom stand -- All eager, tl ough it falters not, To stay his lifted hand. And in a clearer, firmer tone, I heard their rallying cry; From Etna to the Alps it sounds, "For God and Liberty!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DENIAL [OR, DENIALL] by GEORGE HERBERT TAM I' THE KIRK by VIOLET JACOB TO MY MERE ENGLISH CENSURER by BEN JONSON CHOEPHOROI: ORESTES GOES MAD by AESCHYLUS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 42. AL-JAMIL by EDWIN ARNOLD RED TREASURE by CAROLYN AUSTIN LILIES: 3 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PORTRAIT SONNETS: 4 by HENRY BELLAMANN IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HONOUR DISHONOURED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |