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            <title>IV. “Thou that art fire within our souls, O Soul”</title>
            
            <author ref="pros:brad8">
               <persName>
                  <forename>Andrew Cecil</forename>
                  <surname>Bradley</surname>
                  <name type="displayName">Bradley, Andrew Cecil</name>
               </persName>
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          Metadata research and editing
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         <publicationStmt>
            <publisher>University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry Project</publisher>
            <pubPlace>Victoria, BC, Canada</pubPlace>
            <availability>
               <p>In the public domain</p>
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            <date notAfter="2023" notBefore="2016"/>
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            <note>Poem included under the general title <title level="a">Sonnets on the Occupation of Rome, Sept. 20, 1870</title> and signed <q>A. C. Bradley.</q> (SP)</note>
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            <bibl corresp="dvpp:bib_3" n="DarkBl">
               <title level="j">The Dark Blue</title>
               <biblScope unit="volume">4</biblScope>
               <biblScope unit="issue">3</biblScope>
               <biblScope unit="page" from="296" to="296">296</biblScope>
               <date when="1872-11"/>
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                     <incipit>Thou that art fire within our souls, O Soul</incipit>
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         <div type="poem"><!--
OCR text from images
Generated 2022-04-21

296

SONNETS.

Here is the exultation, here the light
A flame within the hearts that greet thee home ;
O shame, O shame if now thou cast away
The soul that through thy long laborious night
Poured out its life to aid thee, if the day
Might see his spirit’s sun and rise on Rome.

Ill.

But thou, though prison-bars thy feet confine,
Not Italy’s own self shall separate
Her fate, Mazzini, from thy holiest fate,
Nor any power divide her past from thine ;
Nor of her future disinherit thee,
Whose soul is mixed into the air that fills
Her vales, and haunts her cities, and blows free
Upon the sacred heights of all her hills.
Yea, and though she forget, if love divine
And faith immortal and life dedicate
To her, and self for her annihilate
May yet from grief and scorn thy heart release,
Still in thine eyes joy perfected shall shine,
And in thy soul the multitude of peace.

Iv.

Thou that art fire within our souls, O Soul,

As fire through all the years to set men free,
One with the spirit of man indissolubly,

To fan, to inflame, to soften and. control.

How should blame dim for thee the radiant goal,
For whom there sings with thunder of the sea
The voice of the regenerate years to be,

The solemn ceaseless years that onward roll ?

And thee they praise, O thou whose steadfast eyes
No fear nor hope from highest heaven could bend,

Still striving till the day-star shall arise,

Still speaking hope, our father and our friend,

And set to seek the day that never dies,

And faithful, faithful, faithful to the end.

A. C. Braptry.--></div>
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