NAPLES

Fold her, O Father, in Thine arms,

And let her henceforth be

A messenger of love between

Our human hearts and Thee.

I give thee joy!— I know to thee

The dearest spot on earth must be

Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea;

Where, near her sweetest poet's tomb,

The land of Virgil gave thee room

To lay thy flower with her perpetual bloom.

I know that when the sky shut down

Behind thee on the gleaming town,

On Baiae's baths and Posilippo's crown;

And, through thy tears, the mocking day

Burned Ischia's mountain lines away,

And Capri melted in its sunny bay;

Through thy great farewell sorrow shot

The sharp pang of a bitter thought

That slaves must tread around that holy spot.

Thou knewest not the land was blest

In giving thy beloved rest,

Holding the fond hope closer to her breast,

That every sweet and saintly grave

Was freedom's prophecy, and gave

The pledge of Heaven to sanctify and save.

That pledge is answered. To thy ear

The unchained city sends its cheer,

And, tuned to joy, the muffled bells of fear

Ring Victor in. The land sits free

And happy by the summer sea,

And Bourbon Naples now is Italy!

She smiles above her broken chain

The languid smile that follows pain,

Stretching her cramped limbs to the sun again.

Oh, joy for all, who hear her call

From gray Camaldoli's convent-wall

And Elmo's towers to freedom's carnival!

A new life breathes among her vines

And olives, like the breath of pines

Blown downward from the breezy Apennines.

Lean, O my friend, to meet that breath,

Rejoice as one who witnesseth

Beauty from ashes rise, and life from death!

Thy sorrow shall no more be pain,

Its tears shall fall in sunlit rain,

Writing the grave with flowers: “Arisen again!”