“Away the armed hosts your gates surrounding!
The barbarous hordes that come your speech to sever,
To raze the fortunes of your fathers' founding,
And call you slaves! That will I pardon never!
“Rather within your tombs the flame be stirred
As from an awful flash in heaven burning,
Such as gave forth the Maccabean's word.”
Hail Voice divine! be ours the quick discerning
Of what thy message means: in thee be heard
Savonarola's spirit to us returning!