For he shall not be hanged yet, we intend.
Seize on Guerazzi; guard him in full view,
Or else we stab him in the back, to end.
Rub out those chalked devices! Set up new
The Duke's arıns; doff your Phrygian caps; and mend
The pavement of the piazzas broke into
By the bare poles of freedom! Smooth the way
For the Duke's carriage, lest his highness sigh
"Here trees of liberty grew yesterday."
Long live the Duke!—How roared the cannonry,
How rocked each campanile, and through a spray
Of nosegays, wreaths, and kerchiefs, tossed on high,
How marched the civic guard, the people still
Shouting—especially the little boys!
Alas, poor people, of an unfledged will
Most fitly expressed by such a callow voice!
Alas, still poorer Duke, incapable
Of being worthy even of that noise!
XI.
And tears in his faint eyes, and hands extended
To stretch the franchise through their utmost ranks?
That having, like a father, apprehended,
He came to pardon fatherly those pranks
Played out, and now in filial service ended?
That some love token, like a prince, he threw,
To meet the people's love-call, in return?
Well, how he came I will relate to you;
And if your hearts should burn, why, hearts must burn,
To make the ashes which things old and new
Shall be washed clean in—as this Duke will learn.
