New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1878-01-17
THE OBSEQUIES ~ ROME.
JANUARY II, 1873.

Who, crowned III sore ueieat,
Caught out of blood, disaster and retreat.
With wounded hands, soldiers simple fame
Content, had that been ALL
And most content, VIGOROUSLY to fall -
Life saved thee for peoples hottest aim,
And leaves thee VICTOR, in thy pail!
"GOD WITH US may that people say,
Who walk behind thy conquering dust, to-day:
YEA all thine Italy
Made one. at last, and proudly free.
Ble8ses thy sirc'3 baptlsmal prophecy.
Since, orer-coarse to b. the Empires lord,
IIcmlian Odoaker fell
Among spilled goblets, by the Gothic sword,
In old Ravenna's palace-citadeI;
Ard after him. Theodore stroye
To own the land he could not choose but love-
And both, from no deficiency of power,
But failing heart and brain
That might revyify the beauty slain,
Buildcd barbaric thrones for one brief hour
Since. in glorious vision cast
BY some narcotic opae of the Past
Ricnzi sought TO be
Brutus in deed, Caesar in victory
The Italy, that once was Rome.
Dismembered, sighed for her doliycrance,
Saw her Republics die,
Leaned yainly on the broken reed Of France,
TILL when despair seemed nigh,
She saw herself, and starting from her trance,
Summoned the Victor, who hath led her home!
III.
He knew his people, ard his soul was strong
To wait till they knew him
The hand that holds sceptre dare not shake
From the quick blood that burns at every wrong.
With Europe watchful, cold and grim
Behind him, and the triple-hOoded snake
Coilcd in his path, he went
Through changing gusts of doubt and discomfort,
Till all he could have dreamed of, came to him!
But now his people know bin NOW,
Since Deaths pure cOrOnct is on his brow,
Italian eyes are dim
Now to her ancient Glories sovereign Rome
Adds one moro glory sorrow falls
Ger all the circuit of the Aurelian walls
Even from Montorio on Saint Peters dome;
And where on warm PamiIli-DOriau meads
Fresh dew the daisy feeds;
And brcathes IN every tall Borghcsc pine,
And means on Ayentine;
And-cOhd the voice of all desire awake
That once was loud for Italy's dear sake
\ hymn would burst from each dumb bural-stone
Beside the CcstIan pyramid,
Where Keats, Shclcy's dust is hid.
In dithyrambic triumph DER his own
".
Who walk behind his bert
Behold the solemn phantOms who are they.
The stern precursors that arise, to-day,
Breathing of many fiery year
And clad in drapcry of darker time'
These are the dead who saw,
Too soon, the worlds diviner law
Too early dreamed their peoples dream sublime
He follows them, who lived to make that dream
A principle supreme,
Dome -browel Mazzini,-he, who planted sure
Its cornerstone CayOur!
Then, first among tho living, that gray chief
Who wears, at last, his Roman aureps leaf.
TO conquer which he rent aud shattered down
His rich Sicilian crown.
Ah. bend thee, Garibaldi be not 10th
10 trust the son of him thou cay'st land,
Or kiss the stainless hand
OF her whose name is pearl and daisy both.
Such love. to-day, thy people give
TO him who died. such trust to them who live.
Cunning nor Force shall overthrow
The state whose fabric has been buded so.
Under the Pantheons dome,
The undying Victor still shall reign
DER one free land that dare not feel a chain,-
Whose mighty heart is Rome!
St;ll from the rampartS of the Rhmtian snow.
Far down the realms of corn and wine,
Blck-boned by Apennine,
To capes that breast the warm Calabran Sea,
\ single race shall know
One love, outright, one loyalty:
still from his ashes Italy shall grow,
Who made her Italy!
BAYARD TAYLOR.