At Rome

[I have a private interest in this Sonnet, for I doubt whether it would ever have been written but for the lively picture given me by Anna Ricketts of what she had witnessed of the indignation and sorrow expressed by some Italian noblemen of their acquaintance upon the surrender, which circumstances had obliged them to make, of the best portion of their family mansions to strangers.--I.F.]

They--who have seen the noble Roman’s scorn Break forth at thought of laying down his head, When the blank day is over, garreted In his ancestral palace, where, from morn To night, the desecrated floors are worn By feet of purse-proud strangers; they--who have read In one meek smile, beneath a peasant’s shed, How patiently the weight of wrong is borne; They--who have heard some learned Patriot treat Of freedom, with mind grasping the whole theme From ancient Rome, downwards through that bright dream Of Commonwealths, each city a starlike seat Of rival glory; they--fallen Italy-- Nor must, nor will, nor can, despair of Thee!