Forget not; in thy book record their groans,
Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that roll’d
Mother and infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they
To Heaven. Their martyr’d blood and ashes sow
O’er all th’ Italian fields, where still doth sway
The triple tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundred fold, who, having learned thy way,
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.”