Italy

I am she that was the light of thee enkindled When Greece grew dim; She whose life grew up with man’s free life, and dwindled With wane of him. She that once by sword and once by word imperial Struck bright thy gloom; And a third time, casting off these years funereal, Shall burst thy tomb. By that bond ‘twixt thee and me whereat affrighted Thy tyrants fear us; By that hope and this remembrance reunited; (Cho.) O mother, hear us.