 | The bird and the bell, with other poems |  |
XXXIV.
For, lo, the fires are kindled. Hark! afar,At last the thunders mutter under ground,
The northern lights flash cimeters of war,
Sardinia's trumpets to the battle sound.
See Florence, Parma, Modena, unbound,
Leap to their feet,—and stout Romagna brave
The Cardinal's frown, and swear to cower no more a slave!
| The bird and the bell, with other poems | |