X

Conviction was not, courage failed, and truth

      Was something to be doubted of. The mime

Changed masks, because a mime; the tide as smooth

      In running in as out; no sense of crime

Because no sense of virtue. Sudden ruth

      Seized on the people... they would have again

Their good Grand-duke, and leave Guerazzi, though

      He took that tax from Florence:—"Much in vain

He took it from the market-carts, we trow,

      While urgent that no market-men remain,

But all march off, and leave the spade and plough,

      To die among the Lombards. Was it thus

The dear paternal Duke did? Live the Duke!"

      At which the joy-bells multitudinous,

Stept by an opposite wind, as loudly shook.

      Recall the mild Archbishop to his house,

To bless the people with his frightened look,

For he shall not be hanged yet, we intend.

Seize on Guerazzi; guard him in full view,

      Or else we stab him in the back, to end.

Rub out those chalked devices! Set up new

      The Duke's arıns; doff your Phrygian caps; and mend

The pavement of the piazzas broke into

      By the bare poles of freedom! Smooth the way

For the Duke's carriage, lest his highness sigh

      "Here trees of liberty grew yesterday."

Long live the Duke!—How roared the cannonry,

      How rocked each campanile, and through a spray

Of nosegays, wreaths, and kerchiefs, tossed on high,

      How marched the civic guard, the people still

Shouting—especially the little boys!

      Alas, poor people, of an unfledged will

Most fitly expressed by such a callow voice!

      Alas, still poorer Duke, incapable

Of being worthy even of that noise!