Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/From the Italian of Filicaya
For other versions of this work, see Italia, Italia!.
From the Italian of Filicaya.
Italia, oh! Italia! thou, so graced
With ill-starred beauty, which to thee hath been
A dower, whose fatal splendour may be traced
In the deep graven sorrows of thy mien;
Oh! that more strength, or fewer charms were thine!
That those might fear thee more, or love thee less,
Who seem to worship at thy radiant shrine,
Then pierce thee with the death-pang's bitterness!
Not then would foreign hosts have drained the tide
Of that Eridanus thy blood hath dyed;
Nor from the Alps would legions, still renewed,
Pour down; nor wouldst thou wield an alien brand,
And fight thy battles with the stranger's hand,
Still, still a slave, victorious or subdued!