Classic Poem

They sunk a graven stone into the ground
Where first our Garibaldi's ship was moor'd,
Whereon an angry record of his wound
Beneath those fair memorial lines, was scored;
At night the accusing tablet was replaced
By one, discharged of that injurious word,
That pierced the general bosom like a sword,
Belied their love, their common hope disgraced.
Lie firm, thou latest-written rock! his meed
Of honour should be neighbour'd by no groan
Of party spleen—perish the bitter seed
In the pure marble furrow vainly sown!
Why brand with purposed hate a casual deed
That made our hero's noble patience known?