To Nicæa, the Birthplace of

Nicæa ! thou wast rear’d of those1
Who left Phocæa crush’d by foes,2
And swore they never would return3
Until that red-hot ploughshare burn4
Upon the waves whereon ’twas thrown.5
Such were thy sires, such thine alone.6
Cyrus had fail’d with myriad host7
To chain them down ; long tempest-tost,8
War-worn, yet unsubdued, they found9
No refuge on Hellenic ground.10
All fear’d the despot.
Far from home11
The Cimbri saw the exiles come,12
Victorious o’er a Punic fleet,13
Seeking not conquest, but retreat,14
Small portion of a steril shore15
Soliciting, nor seizing more.16
There rose Massilia.
Years had past,17
And once again the Punic mast18
Display’d its banner ; once again19
Phoceans dasht it on the main,20
With hymns of triumph they rais’d high21
A monument to Victory.22
Hence was thy name, Ionian town !23
Passing all Gallia’s in renown24
Firmly thou stoodest ; not by Rome,25
Conqueror of Carthage, overcome,26
Fearing not war, but loving peace,27
Thou sawest thy just wealth increase.28
Alas ! what art thou at this hour ?29
Bound victim of perfidious Power !30
In fields of blood, however brave,31
Base is the man who sells his slave32
But basest of the base is he33
Who sells the faithful and the free.34
Bystanders we (oh shame !) have been,35
And this foul traffic tamely seen.36
Thou livest undejected yet,37
Nor thy past glories wilt forget.38
No, no ; that city is not lost,39
Which one heroic soul can boast.40
So glorious none thy annals show41
As he whom God’s own voice bade go,42
And raise an empire where the best43
And bravest from their toils may rest.44
Enna for them shalk bloom again,45
And Peace hail Garibaldi’s reign.46