A mere free press, and chambers!—frank repeaters
Of great Guerazzi's praises. . . . "There's a man
The father of the land!—who, truly great,
Takes off that national disgrace and ban,
The farthing tax upon our Florence-gate,
And saves Italia as he only can."
How all the nobles fled, and would not wait,
Because they were most noble! which being so,
How the mob vowed to burn their palaces,
Because they were too free to have leave to go.
How grown men raged at Austria's wickedness,
And smoked,—while fifty striplings in a row
Marched straight to Piedmont for the wrong's redress!
Who says we failed in duty, we who wore
Black velvet like Italian democrats,
Who slashed our sleeves like patriots, nor forswore
The true republic in the form of hats?
We chased the archbishop from the duomo door—
We chalked the walls with bloody caveats
Against all tyrants. If we did not fight
Exactly, we fired muskets up the void,
To show that victory was ours of right.
We met, discussed in every place, self-buoyed
Except, perhaps, i' the chambers, day and night:
We proved that all the poor should be employed,
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
Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/219
CASA GUIDI WINDOWS.
213
