Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GARIBALDI, by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: He bent his head upon his breast Last Line: Palermo's taken, we believe. Subject(s): Garibaldi, Giuseppe (1807-1882) | ||||||||
I HE bent his head upon his breast Wherein his lion-heart lay sick: -- 'Perhaps we are not ill-repaid; Perhaps this is not a true test; Perhaps this was not a foul trick; Perhaps none wronged, and none betrayed. II 'Perhaps the people's vote which here United, there may disunite, And both be lawful as they think; Perhaps a patriot statesman, dear For chartering nations, can with right Disfranchise those who hold the ink. III 'Perhaps men's wisdom is not craft; Men's greatness, not a selfish greed; Men's justice, not the safer side; Perhaps even women, when they laughed, Wept, thanked us that the land was freed, Not wholly (though they kissed us) lied. IV 'Perhaps no more than this we meant, When up at Austria's guns we flew, And quenched them with a cry apiece, Italia! -- Yet a dream was sent ... The little house my father knew, The olives and the palms of Nice.' V He paused, and drew his sword out slow, Then pored upon the blade intent, As if to read some written thing; While many murmured, -- 'He will go In that despairing sentiment And break his sword before the King.' VI He poring still upon the blade, His large lid quivered, something fell. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'I was not born With such fine brains to treat and trade, -- And if a woman knew it well, Her falsehood only meant her scorn. VII 'Yet through Varese's cannon-smoke My eye saw clear: men feared this man At Como, where this sword could seal Death's protocol with every stroke: And now ... the drop there scarcely can Impair the keenness of the steel. VIII 'So man and sword may have their use; And if the soil beneath my foot In valor's act is forfeited, I'll strike the harder, take my dues Out nobler, and all loss confute From ampler heavens above my head. IX 'My King, King Victor, I am thine! So much Nice-dust as what I am (To make our Italy) must cleave. Forgive that.' Forward with a sign He went. You've seen the telegram? Palermo's taken, we believe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREEDOM FOR ITALY: 1867 by JANET HAMILTON MEDLEY OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ON THE ITALIAN CRISIS by JANET HAMILTON UGO BASSI by HARRIET ELEANOR HAMILTON (BAILLE) KING TO GARIBALDI - WITH A BOOK by GEORGE MACDONALD THE CENTENARY OF GARIBALDI by GEORGE MEREDITH THE MARBLE LANDING; AN INCIDENT AT SPEZZIA by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER GARIBALDI by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER GARIBALDI'S RETIRMENT by RICHARD GARNETT (1835-1906) GARIBALDI AT VARIGNANO by MENELLA BUTE SMEDLEY A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |
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