The banner of St. Mark the sun shall feel.
Then wake, then rise, then hurl away thy yoke,
Then dye with crimson that pale livery,
Whose ghastly white has been the jailer's cloak
For years flung o'er thy shame and misery!
Rise with a shout that down thy Giants' Stair
Shall thy old giants bring with thundering tread—
The blind crusader standing stony there,
And him, the latest of thy mighty dead.
Whose patriot heart broke at the Austrian's foot,