The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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| XIII. | EXTRACT XIII. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
EXTRACT XIII.
Reflections on reading De Cerceau's Account of the Conspiracy of Rienzi, in 1347. —The Meeting of the Conspirators on the Night of the 19th of May.—Their Procession in the Morning to the Capitol.—Rienzi's Speech.
Of Truth and Freedom 'mid these temples breath'd,
And see, once more, the Forum shine with swords,
In the Republic's sacred name unsheath'd—
That glimpse, that vision of a brighter day
For his dear Rome, must to a Roman be,
Short as it was, worth ages past away
In the dull lapse of hopeless slavery.
Which had, through many an age, seen Time untune
From his rude hands, a broken, silent shell—
The sound of the church clock , near Adrian's Tomb,
Summon'd the warriors, who had risen for Rome,
To meet unarm'd,—with none to watch them there,
But God's own eye,—and pass the night in prayer.
Holy beginning of a holy cause,
When heroes, girt for Freedom's combat, pause
Before high Heav'n, and, humble in their might,
Call down its blessing on that coming fight.
And, as the breeze, fresh from the Tiber, fann'd
Their gilded gonfalons, all eyes could see
The palm-tree there, the sword, the keys of Heaven —
That were to bless them, when their chains were riven.
On to the Capitol the pageant mov'd,
While many a Shade of other times, that still
Around that grave of grandeur sighing rov'd,
Hung o'er their footsteps up the Sacred Hill,
And heard its mournful echoes, as the last
High-minded heirs of the Republic pass'd.
'Twas then that thou, their Tribune , (name, which brought
Dreams of lost glory to each patriot's thought,)
Didst, with a spirit Rome in vain shall seek
To wake up in her sons again, thus speak:—
“There once stood shrines, and gods, and godlike men.
“What see you now? what solitary trace
“Is left of all, that made Rome's glory then?
“The shrines are sunk, the Sacred Mount bereft
“Ev'n of its name—and nothing now remains
“But the deep memory of that glory, left
“To whet our pangs and aggravate our chains!
“But shall this be?—our sun and sky the same,—
“Treading the very soil our fathers trode,—
“What withering curse hath fall'n on soul and frame,
“What visitation hath there come from God,
“To blast our strength, and rot us into slaves,
“Here, on our great forefathers' glorious graves?
“It cannot be—rise up, ye Mighty Dead,—
“If we, the living, are too weak to crush
“These tyrant priests, that o'er your empire tread,
“Till all but Romans at Rome's tameness blush!
“Where only date-trees sigh and serpents hiss;
“And thou, whose pillars are but silent homes
“For the stork's brood, superb Persepolis!
“Have left no embers—no half-living trace—
“No slaves, to crawl around the once proud spot,
“Till past renown in present shame's forgot.
“While Rome, the Queen of all, whose very wrecks,
“If lone and lifeless through a desert hurl'd,
“Would wear more true magnificence than decks
“The' assembled thrones of all the' existing world—
“Rome, Rome alone, is haunted, stain'd and curst,
“Through every spot her princely Tiber laves,
“By living human things—the deadliest, worst,
“This earth engenders—tyrants and their slaves!
“And we—oh shame!—we, who have ponder'd o'er
“The patriot's lesson and the poet's lay ;
“Tracking our country's glories all the way—
“Ev'n we have tamely, basely kiss'd the ground
“Before that Papal Power,—that Ghost of Her,
“The World's Imperial Mistress—sitting, crown'd
“And ghastly, on her mouldering sepulchre!
“And priestly lords led us, with all our pride
“Withering about us—like devoted beasts,
“Dragg'd to the shrine, with faded garlands tied.
“'Tis o'er—the dawn of our deliverance breaks!
“Up from his sleep of centuries awakes
“The Genius of the Old Republic, free
“As first he stood, in chainless majesty,
“And sends his voice through ages yet to come,
“Proclaiming Rome, Rome, Rome, Eternal Rome!”
The “Conjuration de Nicolas Gabrini, dit de Rienzi,” by the Jesuit De Cerceau, is chiefly taken from the much more authentic work of Fortifiocca on the same subject. Rienzi was the son of a laundress.
It is not easy to discover what church is meant by Du Cerceau here:—“Il fit crier dans les rues de Rome, à son de trompe, que chacun eût à se trouver, sans armes, la nuit du lendemain, dix neuvième, dans l'église du château de Saint-Ange, au son de la cloche, afin de pourvoir au Bon E'tat.”
“Les gentilshommes conjurés portaient devant lui trois étendarts. Nicolas Guallato, surnommé le bon diseur, portait le premier; qui était de couleur rouge, et plus grand que les autres. On y voyait des caractères d'or avec une femme assise sur deux lions, tenant d'une main le globe du monde, et de l'autre une Palme pour représenter la ville de Rome. C'était le Gonfalon de la Liberté. Le second, à fonds blanc, avec un St. Paul tenant de la droite une Epée nue et de la gauche la couronne de Justice, était porté par Etienne Magnacuccia, notaire apostolique. Dans le troisième, St. Pierre avait en main les clefs de la Concorde et de la Paix. Tout cela insinuait le dessein de Rienzi, qui était de rétablir la liberté la justice et la paix.” —Du Cerceau, liv. ii.
The fine Canzone of Petrarch, beginning “Spirto gentil,” is supposed, by Voltaire and others, to have been addressed to Rienzi; but there is much more evidence of its having been written, as Ginguené asserts, to the young Stephen Colonna, on his being created a Senator of Rome. That Petrarch, however, was filled with high and patriotic hopes by the first measures of this extraordinary man, appears from one of his letters, quoted by Du Cerceau, where he says,—“Pour tout dire, en un mot, j'atteste, non comme lecteur, mais comme témoin oculaire, qu'il nous a ramené le justice, la paix, la bonne foi, la sécurité, et tous les autres vestiges de l'âge d'or.”
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |