BETA

Garibaldi.

He is the helper whom Italy wanted1
To free her from fetters and cerements quite ;2
His is the great heart no dangers have daunted ;3
His is the true hand to finish the fight.4
Way !  for a man of the kingliest nature :5
Scope !  for a soul of the high Roman stature :6
His great deeds have crowned him ;7
His heroes are round him ;8
On, on, Garibaldi !  for Freedom and Right !9
To brave battle-music up goes the smoke-curtain ;10
A country arises, all one, should he call ;11
The sound of his trumpet is never uncertain ;12
He fights for his cause till it conquer or fall.13
His Chariot-wheels do not spin without biting ;14
Far better pointed for Freedom’s red writing,15
His Rifles and Guns,16
Than their politic pens17
Garibaldi, my Hero !  best man of them all.18
Fierce, out of torment, his fighters have risen,19
Rejoicing from hell, where they tortured them
dumb ;
20
Maimed from old battle-fields, maddened from
prison,
21
Suddenly, strange as cloud-armies, they come,22
With mouths that can shut like an eagle’s beak
clasping,
23
With hands that can gripe like a bower-anchor
grasping :
24
The flying Foe feels,25
When they’re hot at his heels,26
That Death and the Devil are bringing his doom.27
Not only living, but dead men are smiting28
For him !  thus, with few he can fight the great
host !
29
For each one they see, an unseen foe is fighting !30
Over each head an avenging white ghost !31
All the young martyrs they murdered by moon-
light
,
32
All the black deeds of blood done in the noon-
light
,
33
Shall make their hearts reel34
With a shudder, and kneel35
To lay down their arms, and give all up for lost.36
They tell the wild tales of him, gathered together,37
Turn pale at his shadow in midst of their
speech ;
38
For down he swoops on them, like hawk on the
heather,
39
Strikes home with sure aim, and then soars
beyond reach.
40
Or he sweeps all before him, with whirling blade
reeking ;
41
They fly helter-skelter, for shelter run shrieking,42
As waves wild and white,43
Driven mad with afright,44
Dash themselves into foam as they hide up the
beach.
45
Watching o’ nights in the cold, he remembers46
The homes of his love, in their ashes laid low ;47
And hot in his heart, Vengeance rakes up the
embers
,
48
To warm her old hands at the wrathful red
glow.
49
He has had torn from him all that was nearest ;50
He has seen murdered his bravest and dearest ;51
With all this, and more,52
To the heart’s crimson core,53
He kindles !  and all flashes out on the foe.54
When he sailed up our river, the frank, hearty
seaman,
55
We saw how an English soul smiled from his
face ;
56
For Italy’s saviour we knew it was the man,57
All hero !  no matter what garb or what place.58
And we prayed he might have one more grip that
was glorious,
59
Prophesied he should be leader victorious60
Of Italy, free61
From the Alps to the sea ;62
Now, breathless we watch while he runs the
great race.
63
No peace, Garibaldi, till Italy stronger64
Shall sit with free Nations, majestic, serene ;65
And meet them, as Lovers may meet when no
longer
66
The cold corse of one that is dead lies between.67
For this ! God was with you, when perils were
round you ;
68
For this ! the fire smote you not, floods have not
drown’d you ;
69
Their sword and their shot70
Could harm you not,71
And your purpose crouched long for its spring
unseen.
72
On !  with our British hearts all beating true to
you
,
73
All keeping time with the march of the brave ;74
I would to God we might cut our way through to
you
,
75
Gallantly breasting the stormiest wave !76
Would the old Lion might leap in to meet you,77
Just as our true blood is leaping to greet you ;78
Stand by your side,79
In his terrible pride ;80
Mighty to shield, as you’re daring to save.81
Long was the night of her kneeling, but surely82
Shall Italy rise to her queenliest height :83
Many a time has the battle gone sorely,84
To make the last triumph more signal and
bright.
85
Her foes shall be swept from her path like the
stubble,
86
For now is their day of down-treading and trouble.87
God tires of old Rome !88
Venetia cries “ Come.”89
On, on Garibaldi !  for Freedom and Right !90