Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Italy: Vols. XI–XIII. 1876–79. | | | | Aspromonte | | Garibaldi | | Anonymous |
| | | HIGH on Aspromonte flashed the red shirts early, | |
| Up in the midst of them the glory of his face, | |
| Low on Aspromonte, ere the day was over, | |
| He was down and bleeding, bound in helpless case. | |
| Hands of brothers poured that crimson,—nevermore | 5 |
| Tears can wash it from the holy Tricolor. | |
| Alas! alas! could they hit him where he stood, | |
| Himself thrown between the ranks, with passionate cries | |
| Calling on them but to spare each other’s blood, | |
| And so, falling, gave himself a sacrifice. | 10 |
| O the pity and the passion of that morrow, | |
| When, all lost, all ended, he the invincible | |
| Lay there stricken in his ruin and his sorrow, | |
| Prisoner in the hands of those he loved too well. | |
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| Over rugged mountain-paths without complaint | 15 |
| Carried through long hours of torture, white and faint, | |
| By the faithful, silent in his silence all, | |
| Marching slow and soft as at a funeral. | |
| Overhead all day the scorching August quivered, | |
| While the laurel leaves looked sadness, shading him, | 20 |
| As they bore him from the land he had delivered, | |
| Helpless, shattered, hot with anguish heart and limb; | |
| No salute or sign or murmur as he passed; | |
| But once, looking up, he waved his hand at last: | |
| Farewell!—kneeling on the shore the people shivered, | 25 |
| Stretching out their hands long after the white sails had grown dim. | | | | |
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