the lofty hope that cries, “O when shall labor
be happy? and faithful love secure from harm?”
When shall a mighty nation of freemen
say in the face of the sun: “Shine no more
on the idle ease and the selfish wars of tyrants;
but on the pious justice of labour”—?
Odi Barbare.
XXI “Passa la nave mia, sola, tra il pianto”
My lonely bark beneath the seagull's screaming
Pursues her way across the stormy sea;