My lofty star, and at the trumpet’s voice
To wake! to rule! to conquer!—Which must be
My fate, this hour decides. And yet, if peace
Should be the choice of Venice, shall I cling
Still poorly to ignoble safety here,
Secluded as a homicide, who cowers
Within a temple’s precincts? Shall not he
Who made a kingdom’s fate, control his own!
Is there not one among the many lords
Of this divided Italy—not one