ITALY
Belovèd land! O consecrated ground!
That givest the sons of memory a grave,
And, tendering oft the life thou couldst not save,
Soothest the breast's immedicable wound!
Orphans of time and fate in thee have found
What motherhood! What dear repose the brave
Remnants of strife on every land and wave,
Since thy great sires touched the predestined bound!
Heaven set thee as a mark in our life's sea
To light the homeless masters of mankind;
Still on thy precious soil, while time shall be,
Spirits supreme their sacred limit find;
There, at Rome's heart, the whole world kneels to thee,
Truth, beauty, fame,—the soul of man enshrined.
230
