ODE TO MAZZINI
VII
Behold, even they whose shade is black around,
Whose names make dumb the nations in their hate,
Tremble to other tyrants; Naples bows
Aghast, and Austria cowers like a scourged hound
Before the priestly hunters: 'tis their fate,
Whose fear is as a brand-mark on men's brows,
Themselves to shrink beneath a fiercer dread;
The might of ancient error
Round royal spirits folds its shroud of terror,
And at a name the imperial soul is dead.
Rome! as from thee the primal curse came forth
So comes the retribution:
As the flushed murderers of the ravening north
Crouch for thine absolution.
Exalt thyself, that love or fear of thee
Hath shamed thine Austrian bondsmen, and their shame.
Avenges the vext spirits of the free,
Repays the trustless lips, the bloody hands,
And all the sin that makes the Austrian name
A bye-word among liars—fit to be
Thy herald, Rome, among the wasted lands!
Behold, even they whose shade is black around,
Whose names make dumb the nations in their hate,
Tremble to other tyrants; Naples bows
Aghast, and Austria cowers like a scourged hound
Before the priestly hunters: 'tis their fate,
Whose fear is as a brand-mark on men's brows,
Themselves to shrink beneath a fiercer dread;
The might of ancient error
Round royal spirits folds its shroud of terror,
And at a name the imperial soul is dead.
Rome! as from thee the primal curse came forth
So comes the retribution:
As the flushed murderers of the ravening north
Crouch for thine absolution.
Exalt thyself, that love or fear of thee
Hath shamed thine Austrian bondsmen, and their shame.
Avenges the vext spirits of the free,
Repays the trustless lips, the bloody hands,
And all the sin that makes the Austrian name
A bye-word among liars—fit to be
Thy herald, Rome, among the wasted lands!
173
