And heard the bullets whistle past in lands both far and near—
Amidst Italian flowers,[118] below the dark pines of the north,[119]
Where’er the Emperor willed[120] to pour his clouds of battle forth.
’Twas then a splendid sight to see, though terrible, I ween,
How his vast spirit filled[121] and moved the wheels of the machine;
Wide sounding leagues[122] of sentient steel, and fires that lived to kill,[123]
Were but the echo of his voice, the body of his will.
But now my heart is darkened with the shadows[124] that rise and fall
Between the sunlight and the ground to sadden and appall:
The woeful things both seen and done we heeded little then,