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(Except perhaps i' the Chambers) day and night. We proved the poor should be employed,... that's fair,

And yet the rich not worked for anywise, -
Pay certified, yet payers abrogated, -

Full work secured, yet liabilities
To over-work excluded,—not one bated

Of all our holidays, that still, at twice
Or thrice a week, are moderately rated.

We proved that Austria was dislodged, or would Or should be, and that Tuscany in arms

Should, would dislodge her, ending the old feud; And yet, to leave our piazzas, shops, and farms,

For the simple sake of fighting, was not goodWe proved that also. “Did we carry charms

Against being killed ourselves, that we should rush On killing others ? what, desert herewith

Our wives and mothers ?—was that duty ? tush!' At which we shook the sword within the sheath

Like heroes-only louder; and the flush Ran up the cheek to meet the future wreath.

Nay, what we proved, we shouted—how we shouted, (Especially the boys did) boldly planting

That tree of liberty, whose fruit is doubted, Because the roots are not of nature's granting !

A tree of good and evil: none, without it, Grow gods; alas and, with it, men are wanting!

O holy knowledge, holy liberty,
O holy rights of nations! If I speak

These bitter things against the jugglery Of days that in your names proved blind and weak,

It is that tears are bitter. When we see The brown skulls grin at death in churchyards bleak,

We do not cry, 'This Yorick is too light,' For death grows deathlier with that mouth he makes.

So with my mocking: bitter things I write Because my soul is bitter for your sakes,

O freedom! O my Florence !

Men who might Do greatly in a universe that breaks

And burns, must ever know before they do.
Courage and patience are but sacrifice;

And sacrifice is offered for and to
Something conceived of. Each man pays a price

For what himself counts precious, whether true
Or false the appreciation it implies.

But here,—no knowledge, no conception, nought ! Desire was absent, that provides great deeds

From out the greatness of prevenient thought: And action, action, like a flame that needs

A steady breath and fuel, being caught Up, like a burning reed from other reeds,

Flashed in the empty and uncertain air, Then wavered, then went out. Behold, who blames

A crooked course, when not a goal is there
To round the fervid striving of the games ?

An ignorance of means may minister

To greatness, but an ignorance of aims

Makes it impossible to be great at all.
So, with our Tuscans! Let none dare to say,

'Here virtue never can be national; Here fortitude can never cut a way

Between the Austrian muskets, out of thrall: I tell you rather that, whoever may

Discern true ends here, shall grow pure enough To love them, brave enough to strive for them,

Andstrong to reach them though the roads be rough: That having learnt—by no mere apophthegm

Not just the draping of a graceful stuff About a statue, broidered at the hem,

Not just the trilling on an opera-stage
Of libertà' to bravos—(a fair word,

Yet too allied to inarticulate rage
And breathless sobs, for singing, though the chord

Were deeper than they struck it) but the gauge
Of civil wants sustained and wrongs abhorred,

The serious sacred meaning and full use Of freedom for a nation,—then, indeed,

Our Tuscans, underneath the bloody dews Of some new morning, rising up agreed

And bold, will want no Saxon souls or thews To sweep their piazzas clear of Austria's breed.

Alas, alas ! it was not so this time. 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 takes 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, Swept by an opposite wind, as loudly shook.

Call back the mild archbishop to his house, To bless the people with his frightened look,

He shall not yet be hanged, you comprehend ! 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 arms, doff your Phrygian caps, and

mend The pavement of the piazzas broke into

By barren poles of freedom: smooth the way For the ducal carriage, lest bis highness sigh

Here trees of liberty grew yesterday!' · Long live the Duke!'-how roared the cannonry, How rocked the bell-towers, and through thickening

spray Of nosegays, wreaths, and kerchiefs tossed on bigh,

How marched the civic guard, the people still Being good at shouts, especially the 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 so much noise !

You think he came back instantly, with thanks And tears in his faint eyes, and hands extended

To stretch the franchise through their utmost ranks ? That having, like a father, apprehended,

He came to pardon fatherly those pranks Played out and now in filial service ended ? —

That some love-token, like a prince, he threw To meet the people's love-call, in return ?

Well, how he came I will relate to you ; And if your hearts should burn, why, hearts must burn,

To make the ashes which things old and new Shall be washed clean in-as this Duke will learn.

From Casa Guidi windows gazing, then,
I saw and witness how the Duke came back.

The regular tramp of horse and tread of men
Did smite the silence like an anvil black

And sparkless. With her wide eyes at full strain, Our Tuscan nurse exclaimed, ' Alack, alack,

Signora! these shall be the Austrians.' 'Nay, Be still,' I answered, “ do not wake the child!'

-For so, my two-months' baby sleeping lay

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