Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/89

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ITALY.
83
Sprung from that heroic stem,Call the land to rise with them.
They who haunt the swarming street, They who chase the mountain boar,Or, where cliff and billow meet, Prune the vine or pull the oar,    With a stroke    Break their yoke;Slaves but yestereve were they—Freemen with the dawning day.
Looking in his children's eyes, While his own with gladness flash,"These," the Umbrian father cries, "Ne'er shall crouch beneath the lack!    These shall ne'er    Brook to wearChains whose cruel links are twinedRound the crushed and withering mind."
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