Poems and ballads Second edition. By Janet Hamilton ... With introductory papers by the Rev. George Gilfillan and the Rev. Alexander Wallace |
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 | Poems and ballads |  |
217
MEDLEY OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ON THE ITALIAN CRISIS.
“Had I a thousand mouths, a thousand tongues,
A thousand throats, inspired with brazen lungs,”
I'd rouse with thunder tones the slumbering world,
Till Pope, and priest, and Papacy be hurl'd
Down from their gilded thrones. The exulting earth
Would hail with loud acclaim the glorious birth
Of truth celestial, freedom, light, and love,
Goodwill to man, and peace with heaven above.
A thousand throats, inspired with brazen lungs,”
I'd rouse with thunder tones the slumbering world,
Till Pope, and priest, and Papacy be hurl'd
Down from their gilded thrones. The exulting earth
Would hail with loud acclaim the glorious birth
Of truth celestial, freedom, light, and love,
Goodwill to man, and peace with heaven above.
Seek ye for liberty?—shall she be found
Where soul, and heart and conscience all are bound?
Where sinful man before a sinner kneels,
To him his thoughts, his very heart reveals
What he has done, is doing; seeks to find
Full absolution? Blind, oh bound and blind!
Where soul, and heart and conscience all are bound?
Where sinful man before a sinner kneels,
To him his thoughts, his very heart reveals
What he has done, is doing; seeks to find
Full absolution? Blind, oh bound and blind!
“Woman, what think'st thou of thy husband now?”
Said one, who bore on his Satanic brow
The stain of martyr's blood. Replied the wife,
“I ever thought much of him when in life,
But ne'er so much as now, when on the heath,
Bathed in his martyr blood, he lies in death.”
Said one, who bore on his Satanic brow
The stain of martyr's blood. Replied the wife,
“I ever thought much of him when in life,
But ne'er so much as now, when on the heath,
Bathed in his martyr blood, he lies in death.”
218
Dark ruler of the Gaul, so sayest thou,
“What thinks Italia of her hero now?”
The captive rebel, he who dared to cope
With Gallic legions, sent by France to prop
Old John, the Jesuit's frail crumbling throne;
Just going, going, going—must be gone.
“What thinks Italia of her hero now?”
The captive rebel, he who dared to cope
With Gallic legions, sent by France to prop
Old John, the Jesuit's frail crumbling throne;
Just going, going, going—must be gone.
She loves him more than in his noon of life,
When, daring tyranny to mortal strife,
“He came, he saw, he conquered,” freely gave
The kingdoms he had won—O true and brave!
To him he gave them who now stands aloof—
Of kingly gratitude a pregnant proof.
When, daring tyranny to mortal strife,
“He came, he saw, he conquered,” freely gave
The kingdoms he had won—O true and brave!
To him he gave them who now stands aloof—
Of kingly gratitude a pregnant proof.
And we too love him with a love so deep
It bleeds, it burns, but cannot stoop to weep
For him, for him who lies in captive thrall.
Oh bitter draught, the wormwood and the gall,
When drained at the behest of such as thou,
With freedom's life-blood on thy branded brow!
It bleeds, it burns, but cannot stoop to weep
For him, for him who lies in captive thrall.
Oh bitter draught, the wormwood and the gall,
When drained at the behest of such as thou,
With freedom's life-blood on thy branded brow!
God save thee, Garibaldi! for the hour
That soon will strike the knell of Papal power
And Gallic intervention; and a home
For truth and liberty be found in Rome.
That soon will strike the knell of Papal power
And Gallic intervention; and a home
For truth and liberty be found in Rome.
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