GARIBALDI IN ROME.
JUNE 29-30, 1849.
St. Peter’s eve, from dim Janiculum
The battle’s thunder drowned the bells that tolled,
The great guns flashed, but that night as of old
We kept St. Peter’s vigil, and the dome
Blazed with its myriad little lamps of gold,
And all the river ran with yellow foam,
While on the torchlit Capitol unrolled
The banner blew of our Republic, Rome,
Then silence fell with treacherous midnight,—
An hour ere dawn we heard a wild alarm,
The blast of bugles, the swift call to arm,
We sang his war hymn and fell in to fight;
Then as dawn gathered on the Esquiline
Our grand old lion gave the battle sign.
ἙΡΑΝ ΤΩΝ ἉΔΥΝΑΤΩΝ.
So now I know we shall not any more,
As we have done in these last golden days,
Go hand in hand along life’s pleasant ways,
Walk heart with heart together as before.
It seems we cannot choose but wear the chain
Fate winds about our little lives. Ah sweet,
What wall is set between us that your feet
Must wander alway where I gaze in vain!
Could we have climbed together! How these bars
Had melted in the fire of love; the road
Had known our footsteps where the wise men trod,
And our sure ways had ended with the stars!
We had atoned for passion!—passed above
All fleeting shadows of the world’s desire,
Made pure our spirits at a holier fire,
And in the lap of morning laid our love.