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437
CAVOUR.
Low lies earth's noblest head!
Cavour is dead!
White and cold, and still he lies,
Who bade Italy arise
From where beneath the Austrian's heel she lay
With woes that only dared in groans be said.
Woe for the day,
When those dread words sank grief into all eyes,
While, in their fear and grief and wild surprise,
Each, the one thought that shuddered through each, read;
He's gone; who now shall be his land's great stay
Through the dread dangers of her onward way,
Through the dark future that before her lies?
Low lie the will so strong, the brain so wise!
Low lie the trusted arm, the trusted head!
Cavour is dead!
Cavour is dead!
White and cold, and still he lies,
Who bade Italy arise
438
With woes that only dared in groans be said.
Woe for the day,
When those dread words sank grief into all eyes,
While, in their fear and grief and wild surprise,
Each, the one thought that shuddered through each, read;
He's gone; who now shall be his land's great stay
Through the dread dangers of her onward way,
Through the dark future that before her lies?
Low lie the will so strong, the brain so wise!
Low lie the trusted arm, the trusted head!
Cavour is dead!
Who weakly said,
“Cavour is dead!”
His spirit seeks God's face, but never dies
The heart men gathered from his eyes,
Nor the great thoughts he made the souls of acts,
The mighty hopes he wed in war to facts,
When all that to men seemed
But fancies to be dreamed,
He with armed hand, and wisdom subtly wise,
Moulded to powers before earth's hushed surprise,
Till dazzling light from the grim darkness streamed,
The glory of his land from night redeemed,
Which while arms fiercely clashed,
As in the old days, on the world's sight flashed.
Unto our eyes that glory did he give
For aye to live.
“Cavour is dead!”
His spirit seeks God's face, but never dies
The heart men gathered from his eyes,
Nor the great thoughts he made the souls of acts,
The mighty hopes he wed in war to facts,
When all that to men seemed
But fancies to be dreamed,
He with armed hand, and wisdom subtly wise,
Moulded to powers before earth's hushed surprise,
Till dazzling light from the grim darkness streamed,
The glory of his land from night redeemed,
Which while arms fiercely clashed,
As in the old days, on the world's sight flashed.
Unto our eyes that glory did he give
For aye to live.
Yes, to live on and know
Eclipse no more, but grow
And brighter broaden in the eyes of men,
To light to glory, pencil, sword, and pen,
Until the wombs of coming ages give
To us new Cæsars—Angelos, to live
Lives as mighty as of old,
Whose deeds by new-born Livys shall be told,
And far Columbuses whose acts shall ring
While round the sun the whirling earth is rolled,
And Galileos, visions to unfold
That mightier Virgils shall, to times of gold,
And happier Dantes, sing;
Glory to him who such great days shall bring,
Who with wise might the fettered present freed,
That the great future might such spirits breed.
Eclipse no more, but grow
And brighter broaden in the eyes of men,
To light to glory, pencil, sword, and pen,
Until the wombs of coming ages give
To us new Cæsars—Angelos, to live
Lives as mighty as of old,
Whose deeds by new-born Livys shall be told,
439
While round the sun the whirling earth is rolled,
And Galileos, visions to unfold
That mightier Virgils shall, to times of gold,
And happier Dantes, sing;
Glory to him who such great days shall bring,
Who with wise might the fettered present freed,
That the great future might such spirits breed.
Yes, the earthly garb he wore
Lies there to be worn no more;
To death, life gave it, and the mighty soul
That could a nation's fears and hopes control,
Has passed away
To that eternal day
That, soon or late, shall gather in the whole
Who wander darkly through this mortal way,
From the gagged slave who fears the despot's frown,
To him who treads the souls of nations down,
And dares with peoples, as with toys, to play.
Close the dumb lips! the blank wide eyes, O close!
Give the cold form in glory to repose
Where coming centuries shall stand and say,
“No nobler life than this e'er reached life's goal!
Blest be his soul!”
Lies there to be worn no more;
To death, life gave it, and the mighty soul
That could a nation's fears and hopes control,
Has passed away
To that eternal day
That, soon or late, shall gather in the whole
Who wander darkly through this mortal way,
From the gagged slave who fears the despot's frown,
To him who treads the souls of nations down,
And dares with peoples, as with toys, to play.
Close the dumb lips! the blank wide eyes, O close!
Give the cold form in glory to repose
Where coming centuries shall stand and say,
“No nobler life than this e'er reached life's goal!
Blest be his soul!”
Crown him with glory! raise
Statue and swelling song to his high praise,
Whose life was noble as his deed was grand,
Who gave his great race with all rules to stand
Co-equal, and rejoice
That yet again its voice
May speak in thunder, and again its hand,
Armed as of old, may be a power to smite
The crowned ones who would wrench from it a right,
Or bar it from the radiant road that lies,
The path of greatness, wide before its eyes,
The goal of glory ever in its sight;
Chisel and pencil, greatly, as of old,
By your new greatness be his greatness told,
In stone and colours, to the future's sight,
That in his glory ever shall delight.
Statue and swelling song to his high praise,
Whose life was noble as his deed was grand,
Who gave his great race with all rules to stand
Co-equal, and rejoice
That yet again its voice
May speak in thunder, and again its hand,
Armed as of old, may be a power to smite
The crowned ones who would wrench from it a right,
Or bar it from the radiant road that lies,
The path of greatness, wide before its eyes,
The goal of glory ever in its sight;
440
By your new greatness be his greatness told,
In stone and colours, to the future's sight,
That in his glory ever shall delight.
And yet what earthly crown
Needs he whose mortal dust goes down
Unto the earthly rest of the still grave?
What of these mortal hopes shall his soul save,
For love and fear, in the high life he breathes,
Wherein he lives perchance to win new wreaths
For grander triumphs even than here he won,
In fairer hours beneath a happier sun;
Yet where'er his firm feet tread,
Whom we falsely say is dead,
We know but hope he has no need to shun
The presence of the All-Good whose will by him was done.
Lo, in our love and reverence he is crowned;
Through all Earth's ages shall he be renowned,
And with a hope assured, all fear above,
We yield him up to the Eternal Love.
Needs he whose mortal dust goes down
Unto the earthly rest of the still grave?
What of these mortal hopes shall his soul save,
For love and fear, in the high life he breathes,
Wherein he lives perchance to win new wreaths
For grander triumphs even than here he won,
In fairer hours beneath a happier sun;
Yet where'er his firm feet tread,
Whom we falsely say is dead,
We know but hope he has no need to shun
The presence of the All-Good whose will by him was done.
Lo, in our love and reverence he is crowned;
Through all Earth's ages shall he be renowned,
And with a hope assured, all fear above,
We yield him up to the Eternal Love.
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