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Anonymous translation
O ITALY, my country! I behold | |
| Thy columns, and thine arches, and thy walls, | |
| And the proud statues of our ancestors; | |
| The laurel and the mail with which our sires | |
| Were clad, these I behold not, nor their fame. | 5 |
| Why thus unarmed, with naked breast and brow? | |
| What means that livid paleness, those deep wounds? | |
| To heaven and earth I raise my voice, and ask | |
| What hand hath brought thee to this low estate, | |
| Who, worse than all, hath loaded thee with chains, | 10 |
| So that, unveiled and with dishevelled hair, | |
| Thou sittest on the ground disconsolate, | |
| Hiding thy weeping face between thy knees? | |
| Ay, weep, Italia! thou hast cause to weep! | |
| Degraded and forlorn. Yes, were thine eyes | 15 |
| Two living fountains, never could thy tears | |
| Equal thy desolation and thy shame! | |
| Fallen!—ruined!—lost! who writes or speaks of thee, | |
| But, calling unto mind thine ancient fame, | |
| Exclaims, “Once she was mighty! Is this she?” | 20 |
| Where is thy vaunted strength, thy high resolve? | |
| Who from thy belt hath torn the warrior sword? | |
| How hast thou fallen from thy pride of place | |
| To this abyss of misery! Are there none | |
| To combat for thee, to defend thy cause? | 25 |
| To arms! Alone I ’ll fight and fall for thee! | |
| Content if my best blood strike forth one spark | |
| To fire the bosoms of my countrymen. | |
| Where are thy sons! I hear the clang of arms, | |
| The din of voices, and the bugle-note; | 30 |
| Sure they are fighting for a noble cause! | |
| Yes, one faint hope remains,—I see,—I see | |
| The fluttering of banners in the breeze; | |
| I hear the tramp of horses and of men, | |
| The roar of cannon, and, like glittering lamps | 35 |
| Amid the darkening gloom, the flash of swords. | |
| Is there no comfort? And who combat there | |
| In that Italian camp? Alas, ye gods, | |
| Italian brands fight for a foreign lord! | |
| O, miserable those whose blood is shed | 40 |
| Not for their native land, for wife or child, | |
| But for a stranger lord,—who cannot say | |
| With dying breath, “My country! I restore | |
| The life thou givest, and gladly die—for thee!” | |
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