| |
| IN brighter days the Dorian Muse | |
| Extolled the kings of Syracuse. | |
| Hieros and Gelons shook the rein | |
| Of coursers on the Olympic plain, | |
| Victors at Elis, where they won | 5 |
| A crown no king can leave his son. | |
| There Pindar struck his harp aloud, | |
| And shared the applauses of the crowd. | |
| Then Science from deep study raised | |
| A greater man than bards have praised. | 10 |
| When Syracuse met Roman foes, | |
| Above her proudest he arose; | |
| He called from heaven the Lord of Light | |
| To lend him his all-piercing might. | |
| The patriot’s pious prayer was heard, | 15 |
| And vaunting navies disappeared; | |
| Through clouds of smoke sparks widely flew, | |
| And hissing rafts the shore bestrew; | |
| Some on Punic sands were cast, | |
| And Carthage was avenged at last. | 20 |
| Alas! how fallen art thou since, | |
| O Syracuse! how many a prince | |
| Of Gallia’s party-colored brood | |
| Have crept o’er thee to suck thy blood! | |
| Syracuse! raise again thy head, | 25 |
| Long hast thou slept, but art not dead. | |
| A late avenger now is come | |
| Whose voice alone can split the tomb. | |
| Hearest thou not the world throughout | |
| Cry Garibaldi? One loud shout | 30 |
| Arises, and there needs but one | |
| To shatter a polluted throne. | |
| |
