Oh! not in vain the pleading cries
Of anxious thousands round him rise,
He yields—devotion's mingled sense
Of faith, and fear, and penitence,
Pervading all his soul, he bows
To offer on the cross his vows,
And that best incense to the skies,
Each evil passion's sacrifice.
Then tears from warriors' eyes were flowing,
High hearts with soft emotions glowing,
Stern foes as long-loved brothers greeting,
And ardent throngs in transport meeting,
And eager footsteps forward pressing,
And accents loud in joyous blessing;
And when their first wild tumults cease,
A thousand voices echo "Peace!"
Twilight's dim mist hath roll'd away,
And the rich Orient burns with day;
Then, as to greet the sunbeam's birth,
Rises the choral hymn of earth;
Th' exulting strain through Genoa swelling,
Of peace and holy rapture telling.
