Verse > Anthologies > Samuel Waddington, ed. > The Sonnets of Europe
Samuel Waddington, comp.  The Sonnets of Europe.  1888.
Where, Italy, ’s Thine Arm?
By Vincenzo da Filicaja (1642–1707)
Translated by Thomas Le Mesurier

WHERE, Italy, ’s thine arm? or why seek’st thou
  From others aid? Alike thy foe, if right
  I deem, who guards thee, or who dares to fight;
  Both once thy slaves, both would destroy thee now.
Thus dost thou prize what yet the fates allow        5
  Of empire, thus that fame which shone so bright?
  Thus to thine ancient worth, which erst could plight
  His troth to thee, preservest thou thy vow?
Go, then; that ancient worth repudiate, take
  Sloth, and midst blood and groans and clamour dread,        10
  Sleep on, nor in thine utmost danger wake.
Sleep, vile adultress, till the murderous blade
  Vengeful shall on thine idle slumbers break,
  And pierce thee naked with thy minion laid.

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