Vincenzo Da Filicaja.
When from the mountain’s brow the gathering shades
Of twilight fall, on one deep thought I dwell:
Day beams o’er other lands, if here she fades,
Nor bids the universe at once farewell.
But thou, I cry, my country! what a night
Spreads o’er thy glories one dark sweeping pall!
Thy thousand triumphs, won by valour’s might
And wisdom’s voice—what now remains of all?
And see’st thou not th’ ascending flame of war
Burst through thy darkness, reddening from afar?
Is not thy misery’s evidence complete?
But if endurance can thy fall delay,
Still, still endure, devoted one! and say,
If it be victory thus but to retard defeat.