The First And Second Advents Of Garibaldi---1851-2 Poem by Janet Hamilton

Ye blest celestial twain,
From your bright spheres descending,
He called ye not in vain,
His soul's devotion tending.
To liberty and truth,
With burning adoration,
In manhood as in youth
He made full dedication
Of soul, of heart, and arm;
Low at your twin shrines kneeling,
Her strongest, holiest charm
Each gave-his mission sealing.


No pomp, no pride of war,
No herald-blazoned banner,
No trumpet from afar
Proclaimed his march-in manner
A simple, earnest man,
His deeds in toil and danger,
Admiring nations scan;
To them earth holds no stranger;
We count his trophies o'er,
High chieftain-lion-hearted,
His name shall never more
From glory's scroll be parted.


Not less-we love him more
Since, from his rocky dwelling,
By lone Caprera's shore,
He came, with heart high swelling,
To find how changed the scene.
The glorious twain ascending
To their bright spheres again,
Their gaze still downward bending,
With love and sorrow fraught,
Italia's Liberator
In toils of statecraft caught,
By Gallia's dark Dictator.


One thing thou lackest-say
Why wears thy noble spirit
The bonds of Rome, whilst aye
Thou seek'st to disinherit
The Pontiff of his lands?
Oh! rend her chains asunder,
And cast away her bands.
Harmless the Papal thunder,
Thy sovereign found it so,
Not excommunication
His kingdom could o'erthrow,
Or check its liberation.


The freedom of the mind,
The truth of God free spoken,
With a free press combined.
Then-not till then, is broken
The Papacy's strong power,
That holds Italia under.
Oh God! to see the hour
She tears her bonds asunder,
And springs to light and life,
United, free, victorious,
The conqueror in the strife,
Her patriot-hero glorious!