The Call to Arms
Then like the Spartans lived the Modenese
Unfortified, without a parapet;
So shallow were the fosses that with ease
Men might run in and out early or late;
The Great Bell’s toll now echoed on the breeze,
And up from bed jumped all the people straight;
Summoned to arm, some bolted quick downstairs,
Some to the windows rushed—and some to prayers.
Some snatched a shoe and slipper, some in haste
Had only one leg stockinged, others again
In petticoats turned inside out were dressed,
Lovers exchanged their shirts; some with disdain
Took frying-pans for shields, and forward pressed
With buckets on for helms, others were fain
To brandish hedge-bills, and in breast-plates bright
Ran swaggering to the Square, prepared for fight.
There had the Potta, ready at his post,
The City Standard valorously spread;
Himself on horseback armed, and he could boast
Bright scarlet breeches, shoes too, lively red:
The Modenese, abridging, to their cost,
Potestà, wrote but Potta in its stead;
And hence the Bolognese in joke had got a
Cognomen, and they called his Mayorship Potta!
Messer Lorenzo Scotti, sage and strong,
Was Potta then, and suits at law decided;
Now foot and horsemen, a promiscuous throng,
All hurry to the Square, and these divided
Are posted at the gateways; from among
The rest a chosen squadron is confided
To Rangon’s son Gherardo,—to his hand
The Standard too is given and chief command.
Alessandro Tassoni.