The defence of Rome [by E. J. Myers] |
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The Defence of Rome.
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| I. |
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| XI. |
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 | The defence of Rome |  |
1
The Defence of Rome.
Che per amore al fine combatteo.
Dante.
Dante.
3
This Poem IS DEDICATED TO ANDREW CECIL BRADLEY.
5
ARGUMENT.
The revolutionary movement of 1848 having extended its influence to Italy, attempts were made in the Italian states to shake off the direct or indirect predominance of Austria, and to establish free governments. At Rome the new Pope, Pius IX, after encouraging for a time these tendencies, became alarmed, and inclined to a reactionary policy. On the assassination of his minister Rossi in November 1848, he left Rome, took refuge under the protection of the King of Naples, and invoked the aid of Austria, Spain, and France against his people.
In March 1849 the Roman Republic was proclaimed. Mazzini was invited to Rome, and there, acting as Triumvir with Saffi and Armellini, was the guide of the home and foreign policy of the Republic, as Garibaldi, summoned at the same time, was of its military action. In the same month the defeat of Charles Albert, King of Sardinia, by the Austrians at the battle of Novara, deprived Rome of all hope of help from the Piedmontese, and Venice was fully engaged in maintaining her heroic resistance to the Austrian siege. Aid or encouragement might have been expected from the new French Republic,
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7
I have prefixed this brief argument for those who are unaware or forgetful of the facts mentioned, but it is to be hoped that there are many for whom such provision is needless. An account of the whole matter, doubly impressive because given by a writer unfriendly to Mazzini and his policy, may be read in the last volume of Farini's Roman State (translated by Mr. Gladstone), and additional details are to be found in M. Lesseps' ‘Ma Mission à Rome,’ Beghelli's ‘La Republica Romana del 1849,’ Mme. Venturi's Memoir of Mazzini, A. Mario's ‘Garibaldi,’ and Mazzini's own writings. E. M.
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[I.]
Rome, thou art named as of Strength, and thy glory is sprung of the sword,
From thy birth in the ancient tale the War-God was thy father and lord;
All feebler birds of the air were amazed and folded their wings
When thine eagles swooped on their prey, overshadowing peoples and kings.
Eastward and westward they flew, and many a battle of old
Famous and fierce they led; yet ne'er might thine eagles behold—
Nay not among all the battles that ring thro' the roll of the years
With clanging of shield and broadsword and hurtling of close-hurled spears—
More stern and sacred a fight than was fought by thy walls that year,
Whereof men yet living were part, when the rulers were stricken with fear.
Stricken with fear were the rulers, their faces and hearts grew wan
As they thought of the dread beginning, nigh three-score winters agone,
When the strength of the prisoned giant had stirred in his mountain tomb,
And the mountain was shaken and sundered, the high heavens rolled in gloom,
And up thro' the cloudy pillar there leapt forth a pillar of fire,
The wrath of the tortured giant, the flame of his deadly desire.
Three and thirty years were gone by since the waste and the warfare were stayed,
Cooled were the lava-fires, but the tyrants still were afraid.
For of all those crowns that had fallen some dead in the dust lay still,
And some were shorn by the powers that make righteous against men's will.
And two hands ever hath Fear when she stands by the tyrant's throne;
With one she plucketh him back, with the other she urgeth him on
To cruelties fiercer and fouler than when his soul was at ease,
And the dark land darkens around him, the last of the sunlight flees.
From thy birth in the ancient tale the War-God was thy father and lord;
All feebler birds of the air were amazed and folded their wings
When thine eagles swooped on their prey, overshadowing peoples and kings.
Eastward and westward they flew, and many a battle of old
Famous and fierce they led; yet ne'er might thine eagles behold—
Nay not among all the battles that ring thro' the roll of the years
With clanging of shield and broadsword and hurtling of close-hurled spears—
10
Whereof men yet living were part, when the rulers were stricken with fear.
Stricken with fear were the rulers, their faces and hearts grew wan
As they thought of the dread beginning, nigh three-score winters agone,
When the strength of the prisoned giant had stirred in his mountain tomb,
And the mountain was shaken and sundered, the high heavens rolled in gloom,
And up thro' the cloudy pillar there leapt forth a pillar of fire,
The wrath of the tortured giant, the flame of his deadly desire.
Three and thirty years were gone by since the waste and the warfare were stayed,
Cooled were the lava-fires, but the tyrants still were afraid.
11
And some were shorn by the powers that make righteous against men's will.
And two hands ever hath Fear when she stands by the tyrant's throne;
With one she plucketh him back, with the other she urgeth him on
To cruelties fiercer and fouler than when his soul was at ease,
And the dark land darkens around him, the last of the sunlight flees.
But of all those lands in darkness, none knew so grievous a night
As the land that is lady of summer, the child of the sun and the light.
To the south and the sun she leans, and around her delicately,
As the arms of a nurse round her nursling, the streams of the Midland Sea,
Guarding their midmost gem, flow softly, and softly enfold
Italy, Europe's darling, the light of her peoples of old.
Twice in the tale of mankind out of Italy came there a word,
That spake with power to the peoples, and turned their hearts as they heard.
But each word failed in its day, and past when its work was sped
To the underworld of the ghosts, Aïdonean realms of the dead:
And she that had been Earth's eye became darkness, a cavern of gloom,
And she that had been Earth's life as the charnel load of the tomb.
Long had the spoilers torn her, and now when their work was done
Sevenwise rent she lay, and knew not as yet she was One.
As the land that is lady of summer, the child of the sun and the light.
To the south and the sun she leans, and around her delicately,
As the arms of a nurse round her nursling, the streams of the Midland Sea,
12
Italy, Europe's darling, the light of her peoples of old.
Twice in the tale of mankind out of Italy came there a word,
That spake with power to the peoples, and turned their hearts as they heard.
But each word failed in its day, and past when its work was sped
To the underworld of the ghosts, Aïdonean realms of the dead:
And she that had been Earth's eye became darkness, a cavern of gloom,
And she that had been Earth's life as the charnel load of the tomb.
Long had the spoilers torn her, and now when their work was done
Sevenwise rent she lay, and knew not as yet she was One.
13
II.
But a muttered murmur crept from the Alps to the African sea
Of men that were chafed by their chains and weary of infamy.
And each man looked on his fellows and knew that his thought was theirs,
One thought that still throbbed through the noblest and grew with the growing years:
‘Shall the hearts of so many be changed, yet the burden of all be the same?
Shall brands so many be burning, yet sow not the seed of flame?’
Then Rimini stirred, and Lucca, and Sicily sent forth a cry
That rang thro' the realm of Naples, a summons once more to defy
The bombs of the treacherous Bourbon, the bullets that erst laid low
The twin-souled brothers Bandiera, who fell as they gazed on the foe
Unshrinking, their eyes unshrouded, the martyr sons of the sea,
Dead, with a prayer on their lips for the life of Italy.
Of men that were chafed by their chains and weary of infamy.
And each man looked on his fellows and knew that his thought was theirs,
One thought that still throbbed through the noblest and grew with the growing years:
‘Shall the hearts of so many be changed, yet the burden of all be the same?
Shall brands so many be burning, yet sow not the seed of flame?’
Then Rimini stirred, and Lucca, and Sicily sent forth a cry
That rang thro' the realm of Naples, a summons once more to defy
The bombs of the treacherous Bourbon, the bullets that erst laid low
14
Unshrinking, their eyes unshrouded, the martyr sons of the sea,
Dead, with a prayer on their lips for the life of Italy.
But chiefest far to the North thro' the populous streets of Milan
And the storied isles of Venice the flame of the rising ran.
For those ancient cities rose wrathful; the Austrian spoiler fled
Lest his pallid livery's white should be stained with a sanguine red;
Yet came he again with his legions, surrounding them, twenty to one,
With thunder of countless cannon that darkened the face of the sun;
And the brave Milanese fell fast; their cry went forth to the West
To the ears of the king of Sardinia: he wavered, yet came at the hest,
For the cause of his honour he knew to be one with the cause of their right,
But his heart was weakened within him and shrank from the uttermost fight.
Yet he came and strove for a season; but then as the summer waned
So waned the first heat of his purpose; once more thro' their streets death-stained
Rolled back the dark cloud of despair on the homes of the brave Milanese,
Once more did the Austrian banner hang o'er them, polluting the breeze.
Venice alone stood firm. For the Austrian shrank at the roar
And the teeth and the claws of her lion, the wingëd lion of yore;
So watchful he glared from his islands, so fiery and fierce he would bound
On the hunters about that beset him, and gave no inch of the ground.
And the storied isles of Venice the flame of the rising ran.
For those ancient cities rose wrathful; the Austrian spoiler fled
Lest his pallid livery's white should be stained with a sanguine red;
Yet came he again with his legions, surrounding them, twenty to one,
With thunder of countless cannon that darkened the face of the sun;
And the brave Milanese fell fast; their cry went forth to the West
15
For the cause of his honour he knew to be one with the cause of their right,
But his heart was weakened within him and shrank from the uttermost fight.
Yet he came and strove for a season; but then as the summer waned
So waned the first heat of his purpose; once more thro' their streets death-stained
Rolled back the dark cloud of despair on the homes of the brave Milanese,
Once more did the Austrian banner hang o'er them, polluting the breeze.
Venice alone stood firm. For the Austrian shrank at the roar
And the teeth and the claws of her lion, the wingëd lion of yore;
So watchful he glared from his islands, so fiery and fierce he would bound
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III.
But thou mid the strife of thy sisters, O eldest and royalest Rome,
With what eyes wert thou gazing abroad, what cheer wert thou making at home?
Truly thine eyes were long blinded; yet was it not all to thy shame
If the light that at first thou wouldst follow misled thee, a wandering flame:
For lo, a new pontiff arisen who stood not in ancient ways,
But rebuked the false priests in his palace, and sought for the people's praise:
And he gave them statutes and charters, and blest the banners they bore
As they went forth to succour their brethren, to fight in the Austrian war.
Blessings and laws he gave them, and they with wonder and pride
Blest him again in their blindness, and knew not what should betide.
For the minds of both were deluded, nor people nor pontiff foresaw
How the blesser should turn to a curse, the lawgiver to ruin of law.
But slowly the false lamp dwindled, the lustre began to fade,
As a marsh-light bred for an hour in the deep immemorial shade;
For the old curse clave to the pontiff, the curse of the pontiffs' line,
Throne and sceptre and riches, the dower of Constantine.
With what eyes wert thou gazing abroad, what cheer wert thou making at home?
Truly thine eyes were long blinded; yet was it not all to thy shame
If the light that at first thou wouldst follow misled thee, a wandering flame:
For lo, a new pontiff arisen who stood not in ancient ways,
But rebuked the false priests in his palace, and sought for the people's praise:
And he gave them statutes and charters, and blest the banners they bore
As they went forth to succour their brethren, to fight in the Austrian war.
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Blest him again in their blindness, and knew not what should betide.
For the minds of both were deluded, nor people nor pontiff foresaw
How the blesser should turn to a curse, the lawgiver to ruin of law.
But slowly the false lamp dwindled, the lustre began to fade,
As a marsh-light bred for an hour in the deep immemorial shade;
For the old curse clave to the pontiff, the curse of the pontiffs' line,
Throne and sceptre and riches, the dower of Constantine.
And at last in the darkling November, when Rossi lay in his blood,
And the ship of the state in amazement was tost on the ebb and the flood,
Then the weak hand dropt from the helm, and all in the dead of the night
Crept out from his palace the pontiff, and silently stole in his flight
Forth from the land of his people, and craved of Ferdinand's hand
Shelter on Gaëta's rock, and abode in a tyrant's land.
And the ship of the state in amazement was tost on the ebb and the flood,
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Crept out from his palace the pontiff, and silently stole in his flight
Forth from the land of his people, and craved of Ferdinand's hand
Shelter on Gaëta's rock, and abode in a tyrant's land.
Then the soul of Rome was awakened, the turbid stream ran clear
Gathering in force to its goal: and so with the newborn year
Light came to the eyes long blinded, and strength to the staggering knees,
And the fair head of Rome was lifted and turned to the dawn and the breeze
Blown fresh from a far-off country, a region of hope and of awe,
Of majesty born from abasement, of late-found freedom and law.
And behold, in the presence of Europe, or ever the fourth moon clomb
To her place in the heavens expectant, arose the Republic of Rome.
Gathering in force to its goal: and so with the newborn year
Light came to the eyes long blinded, and strength to the staggering knees,
And the fair head of Rome was lifted and turned to the dawn and the breeze
Blown fresh from a far-off country, a region of hope and of awe,
Of majesty born from abasement, of late-found freedom and law.
19
To her place in the heavens expectant, arose the Republic of Rome.
IV.
Two chiefs for her Arm and her Voice she sought for, and found them then,
Garibaldi son of the lightning, Mazzini lover of men.
By the fair Ligurian gulf were the lives of the twain begun,
On the God-wrought Terrace gigantic, the ledges that look to the sun,
Where the gold fruits gleam thro' the woods dark-leaved o'er the red sea-caves,
And the mild sea laughs to the mountain with numberless laughter of waves;
Where the opaline light of the olive leaps forth to the stir of the breeze,
And above and beneath thro' its boughs shines the blue of the skies and the seas;
Where Columbus roamed and mused till his lonely purpose was grown
To the height of his great achievement, the finding of worlds unknown.
Long time he too, Garibaldi, beyond the Atlantic foam
In the worlds of Columbus wandered, but now to the land of his home
He was come in the hour of her need with the west-wind out of the sea
To smite, nor stay from the smiting, till Italy's children be free.
Nor ever was champion or chief since the story of battles began
More apt for a perilous venture, more lionlike lordly a man.
Garibaldi son of the lightning, Mazzini lover of men.
By the fair Ligurian gulf were the lives of the twain begun,
On the God-wrought Terrace gigantic, the ledges that look to the sun,
Where the gold fruits gleam thro' the woods dark-leaved o'er the red sea-caves,
And the mild sea laughs to the mountain with numberless laughter of waves;
Where the opaline light of the olive leaps forth to the stir of the breeze,
20
Where Columbus roamed and mused till his lonely purpose was grown
To the height of his great achievement, the finding of worlds unknown.
Long time he too, Garibaldi, beyond the Atlantic foam
In the worlds of Columbus wandered, but now to the land of his home
He was come in the hour of her need with the west-wind out of the sea
To smite, nor stay from the smiting, till Italy's children be free.
Nor ever was champion or chief since the story of battles began
More apt for a perilous venture, more lionlike lordly a man.
Nor feebler that second, his friend, Mazzini, leader of men,
Though other the arms he had chosen; for ever with voice and with pen
He had toiled for his country's redemption, awaiting the hour of the sword.
And now it was come, and he led her, as once, in the name of the Lord,
Led on by the voice of their prophets, did Israel's sons even so
Go forth unto war with the heathen, the Hittite and Ammonite foe.
For an ardour of old consumed him, the flame of an inborn fire
Sown from the first in his heart, when, a child in the home of his sire,
He wept for the poor and the trampled, and glowed at the deeds of the brave
Who tower in the crowd of their fellows, more mighty to suffer and save.
Steadfast and strong was that flame; all doubts and desires and fears
Fell into its fervour and fed it thro' wasted and wearisome years:
In his high-built cell at Savona, alone with the sea and the sky,
Or in exile in lands of the North, where the rains drift drearily,
One vision still clave to his slumbers, all visions amidst and above,
One form, even Italy's phantom, the land of his birth and his love.
And his heart beat high with resolve, when he saw in the darkness arise
That face so fair in its sorrow, those wistful memorial eyes.
Such and so piteous it seemed, so piteous and holy and pure,
As the face of the desolate queen who in Ithaca long must endure
Drear yearning for him who came not, and wrongs of a lawless race.
Year after year she endured, for Athene gave her her grace,
Patient and pale in her chamber, or gazing seaward in care
For her lord that tarried long; yet in fulness of time he was there,
Yea, he came when they looked not for him, as sudden noon in the night,
And the mean garb fell from his shoulders, and plain in his terrible might
He sprang with a shout to the threshold and shot forth the arrows of doom,
And the evil were broken before him, their ghosts fled away thro' the gloom.
21
He had toiled for his country's redemption, awaiting the hour of the sword.
And now it was come, and he led her, as once, in the name of the Lord,
Led on by the voice of their prophets, did Israel's sons even so
Go forth unto war with the heathen, the Hittite and Ammonite foe.
For an ardour of old consumed him, the flame of an inborn fire
Sown from the first in his heart, when, a child in the home of his sire,
He wept for the poor and the trampled, and glowed at the deeds of the brave
Who tower in the crowd of their fellows, more mighty to suffer and save.
Steadfast and strong was that flame; all doubts and desires and fears
22
In his high-built cell at Savona, alone with the sea and the sky,
Or in exile in lands of the North, where the rains drift drearily,
One vision still clave to his slumbers, all visions amidst and above,
One form, even Italy's phantom, the land of his birth and his love.
And his heart beat high with resolve, when he saw in the darkness arise
That face so fair in its sorrow, those wistful memorial eyes.
Such and so piteous it seemed, so piteous and holy and pure,
As the face of the desolate queen who in Ithaca long must endure
Drear yearning for him who came not, and wrongs of a lawless race.
23
Patient and pale in her chamber, or gazing seaward in care
For her lord that tarried long; yet in fulness of time he was there,
Yea, he came when they looked not for him, as sudden noon in the night,
And the mean garb fell from his shoulders, and plain in his terrible might
He sprang with a shout to the threshold and shot forth the arrows of doom,
And the evil were broken before him, their ghosts fled away thro' the gloom.
V.
So those two came to the Romans that called them, and laboured to layFoundations of order and freedom and works of the dawn and the day.
24
When they saw on the Seven Hills the dreaded morn drawing near;
When they saw in Rome, as in Venice, a generous order and just
Bringing life to the places of tombs and raising the dead from the dust.
Then the kings and the rulers stood up, and each unto each in affright
Cried with a shrill lamentation, ‘Woe, woe for the terrible light!
Shall our sentence at last go forth where least we looked for our fate?
Shall Rome that was sworn to our service arise and baffle our hate?’
Three armies gathered to battle, to fight against freedom and Rome,
One from the slave-house of Austria, from tyranny's long-vext home
25
And one from the Bourbon of Naples, and one from the Bourbon of Spain.
Who then should be found Rome's helper of all the peoples of earth?
Who, said she, but surely my sister, but France, where already has birth
A republic of happier omen, more wise with the wisdom of years
Than that other whose splendour was sullied with slaughter and terror and tears,
Then quenched in the clutch of a tyrant; but this should be surely more bright,
More gentle, more sane and courageous, more constant to dare for the right.
So Rome in her phantasy dreamed, and knew not the horror that hung
O'er the hopes of the people of France; for around their republic there clung,
26
Leagued in a league of liars to murder the just and the true.
Not yet could they rule at their pleasure, but grievously weighed on the land,
Stifling her voice of acclaim and withholding her generous hand
That fain would have welcomed her sister; but now she stood sullen and dumb,
Choked by the brood on her breast: but a worse thing still was to come.
VI.
For now as the year went on, and, as isles in a ravenous sea,
Rome and Venice alone stood forth and dared to be free,
Once more did the King of Sardinia, sore stung with shame at the sight,
Draw forth his sword from its scabbard, defying the Austrian might.
In vain; for the Austrian cannon once more on Novara's day
Blasted his useless brand and swept his succour away.
Rome and Venice alone stood forth and dared to be free,
Once more did the King of Sardinia, sore stung with shame at the sight,
27
In vain; for the Austrian cannon once more on Novara's day
Blasted his useless brand and swept his succour away.
That tale heard the Romans in sorrow, yet bowed not their spirits to fear,
Nor yet when another tidings, yet bitterer, came to their ear.
For now as the spring days lengthened and April smiled on the land
Came news of an army of France sailed forth for the Tyrrhene strand,
But with it no greeting of cheer, as of brother to brother, was sent;
Dark words spake the rulers of France and veiled in gloom their intent.
Nor yet when another tidings, yet bitterer, came to their ear.
For now as the spring days lengthened and April smiled on the land
Came news of an army of France sailed forth for the Tyrrhene strand,
But with it no greeting of cheer, as of brother to brother, was sent;
Dark words spake the rulers of France and veiled in gloom their intent.
And now had they traverst the sea, and landed, and now overbore
(Half fraud half force was that seizure) the port of the Roman shore.
Then Oudinot envoys sent, and prayed of the Romans to yield
Their gates to the host of the stranger, come thither for succour and shield.
But stern and clear came the answer: ‘No nearer come to our wall:
Force with force shall be met: on thy head be what evil befall.’
28
Then Oudinot envoys sent, and prayed of the Romans to yield
Their gates to the host of the stranger, come thither for succour and shield.
But stern and clear came the answer: ‘No nearer come to our wall:
Force with force shall be met: on thy head be what evil befall.’
Then Oudinot marched on the city; the bells in the Capitol tower
Rang out to the people their signal and called them to gather their power;
And swift on the on-coming French came the ranks of the Romans down,
From noon to the evening they fought by the western gates of the town;
Then turned the invader before them, and left in their hands for a prey
Three hundred soldiers of France: so chased they the spoiler away.
Rang out to the people their signal and called them to gather their power;
And swift on the on-coming French came the ranks of the Romans down,
From noon to the evening they fought by the western gates of the town;
Then turned the invader before them, and left in their hands for a prey
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VII.
But Oudinot chafed at his shame, and sware that the city should yield,
Were it force or fraud that should win it, if so his reproach might be healed.
Yet still for a month must he tarry, for now was a parley begun
Between Rome and the Envoy of France, who fain even then would have won
His country to justice and mercy; but baseness and treason prevailed,
As the voice of the vile grew stronger, the nobler faltered and failed.
What profit to tell of such parley, the backward and forward debate,
The defeat of the strivings of honour, the triumph of envy and hate?
Were it force or fraud that should win it, if so his reproach might be healed.
Yet still for a month must he tarry, for now was a parley begun
Between Rome and the Envoy of France, who fain even then would have won
His country to justice and mercy; but baseness and treason prevailed,
As the voice of the vile grew stronger, the nobler faltered and failed.
What profit to tell of such parley, the backward and forward debate,
The defeat of the strivings of honour, the triumph of envy and hate?
30
Meanwhile, all unheeding the evil, the Spring on her magical way
Past on over Italy's mountains and wakened the glory of May;
And the young leaves whispered together, the elm to the plane-tree fair,
And far thro' the height of the heaven brake upward the infinite air.
But no Roman youth by a maiden might hearken the nightingale sing,
Or alone in the flowery silence catch faintly the footsteps of Spring:
One voice had the Spring for him only, to battle for freedom and right,
One voice sounding high o'er the cannon and clear in the crash of the fight.
Past on over Italy's mountains and wakened the glory of May;
And the young leaves whispered together, the elm to the plane-tree fair,
And far thro' the height of the heaven brake upward the infinite air.
But no Roman youth by a maiden might hearken the nightingale sing,
Or alone in the flowery silence catch faintly the footsteps of Spring:
One voice had the Spring for him only, to battle for freedom and right,
One voice sounding high o'er the cannon and clear in the crash of the fight.
But first the three hundred captives were led thro' the streets of Rome
By the side of the Romans to kneel in the shrine of the world-famed Dome;
Then back to their comrades they sent them, with brotherly voice of acclaim,
To bear to their captain this message, best crown of the Roman fame:
‘Let these be for witness between us, not yet will we deem it can be
That republic strive with republic, the free do wrong to the free.’
By the side of the Romans to kneel in the shrine of the world-famed Dome;
31
To bear to their captain this message, best crown of the Roman fame:
‘Let these be for witness between us, not yet will we deem it can be
That republic strive with republic, the free do wrong to the free.’
VIII.
Then next on the army of Naples they turned, and drave them to flee
In rout with their craven king: scarce safe on his throne might he be;
For hard on his track followed after with fiery and terrible hand
Garibaldi, breaker of bondage, arousing the folk of the land.
But he paused in the midst of pursuit, for to Rome they called him again,
For the parley with France was ended, the month's debate was in vain:
And now a new army of Frenchmen had sailed for the south once more,
Twofold the first in its number, and trod the devoted shore.
O infamy cruel and foul! O crime that might darken the day!
O shame of a noble nation, a brand on her forehead for aye!
But Europe stood by and beheld it, the free stood by with the slaves,
As the baneful fleet of the stranger bare death to Rome o'er the waves.
And thou, fair daughter of freedom, proud isle of the tameless deep,
Was thine arm then shortened to save, or thine eyelids heavy with sleep?
Wert thou too even as others who knew not freedom of old
Drugged to a selfish stupor and bartering honour for gold?
Could even that name that thou hatedst, the evil Corsican name,
Not stir thee to send forth a champion once more to illumine thy fame,
Some Nelson or fiery Dundonald to swoop on the hostile prey
And the swarming sails of the spoiler to sweep from the ocean away,
Some Wellesley to plant in the front of a people that strove to be free
Unswerving battalions of Britain, a rock in the rage of the sea?
Not so: but thy true sons grieved; it was ill that this thing should be done,
That a people should perish for freedom and help from thy hand have none.
In rout with their craven king: scarce safe on his throne might he be;
For hard on his track followed after with fiery and terrible hand
Garibaldi, breaker of bondage, arousing the folk of the land.
But he paused in the midst of pursuit, for to Rome they called him again,
32
And now a new army of Frenchmen had sailed for the south once more,
Twofold the first in its number, and trod the devoted shore.
O infamy cruel and foul! O crime that might darken the day!
O shame of a noble nation, a brand on her forehead for aye!
But Europe stood by and beheld it, the free stood by with the slaves,
As the baneful fleet of the stranger bare death to Rome o'er the waves.
And thou, fair daughter of freedom, proud isle of the tameless deep,
Was thine arm then shortened to save, or thine eyelids heavy with sleep?
Wert thou too even as others who knew not freedom of old
33
Could even that name that thou hatedst, the evil Corsican name,
Not stir thee to send forth a champion once more to illumine thy fame,
Some Nelson or fiery Dundonald to swoop on the hostile prey
And the swarming sails of the spoiler to sweep from the ocean away,
Some Wellesley to plant in the front of a people that strove to be free
Unswerving battalions of Britain, a rock in the rage of the sea?
Not so: but thy true sons grieved; it was ill that this thing should be done,
That a people should perish for freedom and help from thy hand have none.
So now to their comrades expectant the strangers came up from the sea;
Seven times five were their thousands, the Romans' but six times three.
Yet to Oudinot even such odds could scarce give cheer for the strife,
For his base cause cankered his valour and lay as a blight on his life:
Still feared he fair fight with the Romans, the men who had smitten him sore,
And he stained with a lie his banner, the pride of the tricolor.
So worthy his errand he proved him, so fit for his vile emprise,
Fit tool of the Bonaparte traitor, the son and father of lies.
Let treason come first for assurance, then force should follow his wile
To preserve him what fraud should have gained—so plotted he darkly in guile.
And a day for the end of the truce he fixed with the Romans, and sware
That until that day should have dawned his host in its place should forbear.
So he sware, and the Romans believed him, and looked to their arms for that day—
Thus far at least would they trust him—and waited secure for the fray.
But or ever the truce was ended, by night had his army clomb
To the Marian Mount on the north, and seized on that bulwark of Rome:
Nor heeded he aught the upbraiding that shamed him from friend and foe,
But paltered with quibbling speech and devised yet a deadlier blow.
For now when a night and a morrow and yet one last night still
Were all unspent of the truce, then against the Janiculan hill
He sent forth at evening his soldiers, eight thousand men of his best,
To seize on the height by treason, where silent in darkness and rest
Four hundred were guarding the summit: then suddenly looked they, and lo,
All around rushing on to the slaughter swarmed countless the throng of the foe.
Yet swerved they no whit from the battle, but on thro' the fiery hail
Sprang forward in wrath to the onset and bore them bravely and well.
And ever where densest and fiercest the torrent of enemies poured
Blazed high in the front of the fight Garibaldi's terrible sword;
Back shrank their bravest before it, and turned in fear from the wall;
And clear as the voice of a clarion rang ever the voice of his call.
From night to the dawn and the noonday and on to the twilight again
They bare up that battle gigantic, sore spent with labour and pain.
But before and behind were the foemen, they swarmed on them twenty to one,
Till the combat unequal was o'er, the Janiculan vantage was won.
There Dandolo, worthy his Venice, lay dead in the blood-steeped throng,
Daverio, Masina, Mameli, his young breast silenced from song.
These, with the faithful who followed, their hearts unshaken of fear,
Stood forth against odds overwhelming and fell in the front with a cheer,
These, with the hundreds more who should live in their country's praise
By the lips of men and of maidens, the camp's and the hearth-stone's lays.
Nay, let not the glory sleep or the high deeds suffer wrong
That should march to the music of time and the tide of sonorous song.
By these from her ancient abasement was Italy lifted on high,
From these came the breath of her life, for they proved that her sons could die.
34
Yet to Oudinot even such odds could scarce give cheer for the strife,
For his base cause cankered his valour and lay as a blight on his life:
Still feared he fair fight with the Romans, the men who had smitten him sore,
And he stained with a lie his banner, the pride of the tricolor.
So worthy his errand he proved him, so fit for his vile emprise,
Fit tool of the Bonaparte traitor, the son and father of lies.
Let treason come first for assurance, then force should follow his wile
To preserve him what fraud should have gained—so plotted he darkly in guile.
And a day for the end of the truce he fixed with the Romans, and sware
35
So he sware, and the Romans believed him, and looked to their arms for that day—
Thus far at least would they trust him—and waited secure for the fray.
But or ever the truce was ended, by night had his army clomb
To the Marian Mount on the north, and seized on that bulwark of Rome:
Nor heeded he aught the upbraiding that shamed him from friend and foe,
But paltered with quibbling speech and devised yet a deadlier blow.
For now when a night and a morrow and yet one last night still
Were all unspent of the truce, then against the Janiculan hill
He sent forth at evening his soldiers, eight thousand men of his best,
36
Four hundred were guarding the summit: then suddenly looked they, and lo,
All around rushing on to the slaughter swarmed countless the throng of the foe.
Yet swerved they no whit from the battle, but on thro' the fiery hail
Sprang forward in wrath to the onset and bore them bravely and well.
And ever where densest and fiercest the torrent of enemies poured
Blazed high in the front of the fight Garibaldi's terrible sword;
Back shrank their bravest before it, and turned in fear from the wall;
And clear as the voice of a clarion rang ever the voice of his call.
From night to the dawn and the noonday and on to the twilight again
37
But before and behind were the foemen, they swarmed on them twenty to one,
Till the combat unequal was o'er, the Janiculan vantage was won.
There Dandolo, worthy his Venice, lay dead in the blood-steeped throng,
Daverio, Masina, Mameli, his young breast silenced from song.
These, with the faithful who followed, their hearts unshaken of fear,
Stood forth against odds overwhelming and fell in the front with a cheer,
These, with the hundreds more who should live in their country's praise
By the lips of men and of maidens, the camp's and the hearth-stone's lays.
Nay, let not the glory sleep or the high deeds suffer wrong
38
By these from her ancient abasement was Italy lifted on high,
From these came the breath of her life, for they proved that her sons could die.
IX.
But now when the heights were lost, and the hosts with the end of day
Had rest from the noise of the onset, the shattering shock of the fray,
Then knew the defenders of Rome that theirs was a desperate strife,
And deadly the blow that was dealt at their young republic's life.
Yet now in the hour of her trial the city's manifold soul
By the stress of her fierce tribulation was knit to a lordlier whole,
To a commonwealth nobler and purer than Fabius or Regulus saw,
With the hopes of the Earth in her flag and the breath of love in her law.
As of old time the Titan beloved, who braved the omnipotent's ire,
And gave men wisdom and hope and the sacred seed of the fire,
Nailed down at the limit of earth, unterrified on to the end,
For his word would not turn for the torment, his high soul falter or bend,
Tho' the sea and the heaven mingled, and reeled at the shattering shock,
Tho' the firm ground shrank at the lightning and yawned for the riven rock
Hellward hurled with its burden, the Titan triumphant in pain—
So endured that anguish the Romans, and still would they gird them again
To follow the leaders they loved, and bravely by day and by night
Bare up thro' the crash of the cannon, the travail and strain of the fight.
And they who had otherwhere fought, with a great exultation came
To do battle once more for a cause that in all lands still was the same:
And thro' them whose fight was their first the thrill of a new joy ran,
The austere sweet joy of the combat, whose home is the blood of a man:
But an ardour diviner far was blent with that fire of the blood,
As the flame of the lightning celestial on flaming trees of a wood.
And the women of Rome, the heroic, the mothers and maidens and wives,
Still sent forth their dearest to battle, and recked not their desolate lives,
Still tended the mangled limbs and lifted the swooning head,
Still solaced the thirst and the anguish, and silently wept for the dead.
Had rest from the noise of the onset, the shattering shock of the fray,
Then knew the defenders of Rome that theirs was a desperate strife,
And deadly the blow that was dealt at their young republic's life.
Yet now in the hour of her trial the city's manifold soul
By the stress of her fierce tribulation was knit to a lordlier whole,
39
With the hopes of the Earth in her flag and the breath of love in her law.
As of old time the Titan beloved, who braved the omnipotent's ire,
And gave men wisdom and hope and the sacred seed of the fire,
Nailed down at the limit of earth, unterrified on to the end,
For his word would not turn for the torment, his high soul falter or bend,
Tho' the sea and the heaven mingled, and reeled at the shattering shock,
Tho' the firm ground shrank at the lightning and yawned for the riven rock
Hellward hurled with its burden, the Titan triumphant in pain—
So endured that anguish the Romans, and still would they gird them again
40
Bare up thro' the crash of the cannon, the travail and strain of the fight.
And they who had otherwhere fought, with a great exultation came
To do battle once more for a cause that in all lands still was the same:
And thro' them whose fight was their first the thrill of a new joy ran,
The austere sweet joy of the combat, whose home is the blood of a man:
But an ardour diviner far was blent with that fire of the blood,
As the flame of the lightning celestial on flaming trees of a wood.
And the women of Rome, the heroic, the mothers and maidens and wives,
Still sent forth their dearest to battle, and recked not their desolate lives,
41
Still solaced the thirst and the anguish, and silently wept for the dead.
All that month they endured, and fiercer and fiercer the sun
Smote down on their dwindling numbers with pain and with toil fordone;
And the shells screamed shrill thro' the air and slaying the weak with the strong,
Slaying the babe in the cradle asleep to his mother's song,
Slaying the mother beside him and blasting the poor man's home,
Nor sparing the shrine and the column, memorial marvels of Rome:
Till at last in the final night, when the fires of God from on high
Blazed brighter than fires of the sulphur, and terribly out of the sky
Thro' the shrouding gloom of the midnight, more dark for the storm-cloud's fold,
Louder yet than the cannon, the peal of the thunder rolled,
Then Rome struck her fiercest and last: in vain, for with dawning day,
As a warrior slain of his wounds, forspent to her utmost she lay.
Smote down on their dwindling numbers with pain and with toil fordone;
And the shells screamed shrill thro' the air and slaying the weak with the strong,
Slaying the babe in the cradle asleep to his mother's song,
Slaying the mother beside him and blasting the poor man's home,
Nor sparing the shrine and the column, memorial marvels of Rome:
Till at last in the final night, when the fires of God from on high
Blazed brighter than fires of the sulphur, and terribly out of the sky
42
Louder yet than the cannon, the peal of the thunder rolled,
Then Rome struck her fiercest and last: in vain, for with dawning day,
As a warrior slain of his wounds, forspent to her utmost she lay.
X.
So the glorious Defence was ended; the treacherous foe forsworn
Marched in thro' the deathlike gloom of the streets of the city forlorn.
Yet found he not there Garibaldi, for he with the last of his band
Was gone forth on a desperate venture, if haply the length of the land
They might traverse afar to the northward and reach unto Venice at last:
So on to their fate heroic, well knowing their peril, they past.
And the strangers marched thro' the town, but their triumph was poisoned with shame
For the lie-stained banner of France and their false republican name.
And they seemed in that silence sepulcral as men who outrage the dead,
And each felt gloom in his breast and the blood of the brave on his head.
Yet knew not they then how at last in the two-and-twentieth year
There should come unto Rome a redemption, to France strange anguish and fear,
Nor how France, made pure from her sin in a furnace of fiery pain,
Should hurl from her bosom the vampire and rise into honour again.
Marched in thro' the deathlike gloom of the streets of the city forlorn.
Yet found he not there Garibaldi, for he with the last of his band
Was gone forth on a desperate venture, if haply the length of the land
They might traverse afar to the northward and reach unto Venice at last:
43
And the strangers marched thro' the town, but their triumph was poisoned with shame
For the lie-stained banner of France and their false republican name.
And they seemed in that silence sepulcral as men who outrage the dead,
And each felt gloom in his breast and the blood of the brave on his head.
Yet knew not they then how at last in the two-and-twentieth year
There should come unto Rome a redemption, to France strange anguish and fear,
Nor how France, made pure from her sin in a furnace of fiery pain,
Should hurl from her bosom the vampire and rise into honour again.
They went up to the heart of Rome, the august Capitolian hill,
Where, awaiting the foe, the Assembly sat calm in their places and still,
Even they whom the people had chosen and laid its power in their hands;
But now breaking in on their council came Oudinot's armëd bands
And scattered them far into exile and barred behind them the door,
And deemed that the voices of freedom should speak from that hill no more.
Yet or ever that deed was done, on the eve of that lawless day,
Had a voice from that hill gone forth which should sound thro' the world alway.
All thro' the storm of the siege they had laboured early and late
To fulfil their charge from the people, to fashion the laws of the state,
And even as the feet of the foemen came in o'er the blood-stained ground,
They proclaimed to the city her statutes, unheeding the ruin around.
44
Even they whom the people had chosen and laid its power in their hands;
But now breaking in on their council came Oudinot's armëd bands
And scattered them far into exile and barred behind them the door,
And deemed that the voices of freedom should speak from that hill no more.
Yet or ever that deed was done, on the eve of that lawless day,
Had a voice from that hill gone forth which should sound thro' the world alway.
All thro' the storm of the siege they had laboured early and late
To fulfil their charge from the people, to fashion the laws of the state,
And even as the feet of the foemen came in o'er the blood-stained ground,
45
Thus had the Romans wrought, as a deed of the Romans of yore,
That so, whether late or soon, when the tyranny all should be o'er,
Then Justice from exile returning, led back by a kindlier star,
Should know that her own did not doubt, had foreseen her return from afar,
That the transient had known her eternal, the homeless had wrought her a home,
Yea, a shrine for her Godhead to dwell in, the laws of republican Rome.
That so, whether late or soon, when the tyranny all should be o'er,
Then Justice from exile returning, led back by a kindlier star,
Should know that her own did not doubt, had foreseen her return from afar,
That the transient had known her eternal, the homeless had wrought her a home,
Yea, a shrine for her Godhead to dwell in, the laws of republican Rome.
XI.
Yet tarried a few in the city whose hearts not yet would allowAll ended they strove for so bravely, but haply, they deemed, even now
46
And hurl him to dust from his triumph, some vengeance sudden and sure.
And there with those sad stern hearts one sadder and sterner than all,
Mazzini, waited in silence if haply such chance should befall.
Freely he went and came, and moved in the light of the day,
But none laid hand on his freedom or lifted weapon to slay.
Seven days he tarried in vain, and then, when all hope was fled,
Went forth from the sorrowful city that mourned for her freedom dead.
Northward and westward he fared, and made for the Tyrrhene strand
Right on thro' the wild Campagna, the fateful feverous land.
47
Bathed in the splendour of even, could speak to his sorrow of Rome.
Then he laid him down in the twilight, amidst of the perilous plain,
And yielded his eyelids to sleep, and forgot for a little his pain;
And a wind from the wild Campagna, the plague-vext pasture and fen,
Moaned round the people's shepherd, the leader and prophet of men.
But lo, in his dreams as he slumbered the firmament rolled away,
Lost in an ampler arch and a dawn of diviner day;
And it seemed as the tenth heaven opened, all heights of the heavens above,
Moved as a wheel that is moved by the might of ineffable Love;
48
And he seemed as himself no longer, but merged in an infinite whole;
Then slowly his sense came back, but returning seemed it to be
As though the old life were a dream, and the dream reality:
And a murmur fell thro' the air, as an angel's message it seemed,
And spake to the people's shepherd;—he smiled at the voice as he dreamed:
‘Lo this for thy heart, this word, O loved one, O lover of men;
When the long-lost light shall arise, and the gloom shall be lifted again,
When the golden yearspring shall dawn, completing the secular sum,
In the hour of the great resurrection, the life of the world to come,
49
And the risen shall long for the fall'n, nor the unforgetting forget.’
Thus spake that voice, and was silent; the phantasy fled from his brain,
And he rose in the dawn from his slumber, unhurt of the feverous plain;
And he journeyed on to the sea and entered a ship on the strand
Bound for Massilian wharves, for a port of the strangers' land;
And they loosed the ship from her mooring and spread her sails to the wind,
For a breeze from the mounting sun was arisen and blew from behind:
So the bright waves bare him along, and the shores of his Italy
Faded away from his eyes, as the swift ship sped thro' the sea.
| The defence of Rome | |