'Twas on a night of May, beneath that moon
Which had thro' many an age seen Time untune
The strings of this Great Empire, till it fell
From his rude hands, a broken, silent shell--
The sound of the church clock near ADRIAN'S Tomb
Summoned the warriors who had risen for ROME,
To meet unarmed,--with none to watch them there,
But God's own eye,--and pass the night in prayer.
Holy beginning of a holy cause,
When heroes girt for Freedom's combat pause
Before high Heaven, and humble in their might
Call down its blessing on that coming fight.
At dawn, in arms went forth the patriot band;
And as the breeze, fresh from the TIBER, fanned
Their gilded gonfalons, all eyes could see
The palm-tree there, the sword, the keys of Heaven--
Types of the justice, peace and liberty,
That were to bless them when their chains were riven.
On to the Capitol the pageant moved,
While many a Shade of other times, that still
Around that grave of grandeur sighing roved,
Hung o'er their footsteps up the Sacred Hill
And heard its mournful echoes as the last
High-minded heirs of the Republic past.
'Twas then that thou, their Tribune,[1] (name which brought
Dreams of lost glory to each patriot's thought,)
Didst, with a spirit Rome in vain shall seek
To wake up in her sons again, thus speak:--
"ROMANS, look round you--on this sacred place
"There once stood shrines and gods and godlike men.
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