on the italian colours.
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IV.
The death which tyrants deemed held fast
The lands o'er which their armies trod,
Hath no more power; the grave is past.
A living people bless Thee, God.
The lands o'er which their armies trod,
Hath no more power; the grave is past.
A living people bless Thee, God.
v.
Freed from the yoke of alien kings,
The nations wake to life and breath;
Th' immortal from the mortal springs,
"Out of the body of that death."
The nations wake to life and breath;
Th' immortal from the mortal springs,
"Out of the body of that death."
VI.
No sepulchres can freedom hold.
'Tis life; and life o'er death must rise.
Glad bells ring out in triumph bold;
Wave, flag of freedom, to the skies!
'Tis life; and life o'er death must rise.
Glad bells ring out in triumph bold;
Wave, flag of freedom, to the skies!
VII.
My Florence, which so fair doth lie,
A dream of beauty at my feet,
While smiles above that dappled sky,
While glows around that ripening wheat.
A dream of beauty at my feet,
While smiles above that dappled sky,
While glows around that ripening wheat.
