PART II. TO PIUS IX.5 THE cannon's brazen lips are cold; And street and tower, and temple old, Are silent as despair. The Lombard stands no more at bay — Rome's fresh young life has bled in vain; The ravens scattered by the day Come back with night again. Now, while the fratricides of France Are treading on the neck of Rome, Hider at Gaeta seize thy chance! Coward and cruel, come! Creep now from Naples' bloody skirt; Thy mummer's part was acted well, While Rome, with steel and fire begirt, Before thy crusade fell! Her death-groans answered to thy prayer; Let Austria clear thy way, with hands Rome's lips are dumb; the orphan's wail, The mother's shriek, thou may'st not hear, Above the faithless Frenchman's hail, The unsexed shaveling's cheer! Go, bind on Rome her cast-off weight, Nor heed those blood-stains on the wall, Not Tiber's flood can wash away, Where, in thy stately Quirinal, Thy mangled victims lay! Let the world murmur; let its cry Of horror and disgust be heard; Truth stands alone; thy coward lie Is backed by lance and sword! The cannon of St. Angelo, And chanting priest and clanging bell, And beat of drum and bugle blow, Shall greet thy coming well! Let lips of iron and tongues of slaves No wreaths of sad Campagna's flowers Shall childhood in thy pathway fling; No garlands from their ravaged bowers Shall Terni's maidens bring; But, hateful as that tyrant old, The mocking witness of his crime, In thee shall loathing eyes behold The Nero of our time! Stand where Rome's blood was freest shed, Mock Heaven with impious thanks, and call Its curses on the patriot dead, Its blessings on the Gaul! Or sit upon thy throne of lies, A poor, mean idol, blood-besmeared, Whom even its worshippers despise Unhonored, unrevered! Yet, Scandal of the World! from thee One needful truth mankind shall learn That kings and priests to Liberty And God are false in turn. Earth wearies of them; and the long Meek sufferance of the Heavens doth fail; Woe for weak tyrants, when the strong Wake, struggle and prevail! |