His blood avenged, and his fair heritage,
My beautiful native land, in glory risen,
Like a warrior from his slumbers!
Pro. Hear’st thou not
With what a deep and ominous moan the voice
Of our great mountain swells? There will be soon
A fearful burst! Vittoria! brood no more
In silence o’er thy sorrows, but go forth
Amidst thy vassals, (yet be secret still,)
And let thy breath give nurture to the spark