Lyrical Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Field where none died in vain!
Beardless boys and famine-gaunt
Corpses along the plain,—
Did not enough of ye die
On the field where none died in vain,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!

Field where death was victory,
Blood that gush'd not in vain
When the deadly rifle of France
Crash'd with its iron rain;
'Neath the pine-dotted slopes of Tivoli
The triumph is with the slain,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!

142

Noble error, if error,
To make their fatherland one!—
Through her five-and-twenty centuries
Rome counts no worthier son,
Than he who led them to die
Where death and triumph were one,—
Lion-hearts of young Italy!

For the blood of Mentana
To the blood of Thermopylae calls,
And the blood of Marathon answers,
Not in vain, not in vain he falls
Who stakes his life on the die
When the voice of Freedom calls,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!

Passionate instinct for truth,
Children and heroes in one,
Reason higher than reason,
Light from beyond the sun:—
Did not enough of ye die
To knit your country in one,
Lion-hearts of young Italy?

143

Pity not them as they lie
Crown'd with the fortunate dead;
Pity not them, but the foe,—
For the precious drops that they shed
Sow but the seed of victory!
Pity the foe, not the dead,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!

Yours, to be gallant and true,
Yours, for your country to die,
Yours to be Men of Mentana,
Highly esteem'd 'mong the high:—
Theirs, to look on at your victory!
For did not enough of ye die,
Lion-hearts of young Italy?

Brief the day of November,
Long to the remnant that fought;
Boys too young for the battle,
Naked and hunger-distraught:—
No, not too young to die,
Falling where each one fought,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!