Classic Poem

O SONS of Italy, awake!
Your hearths and altars are at stake!
Arise, arise, for Freedom's sake,
And strike with Garibaldi!

The Liberator now appears,
Foretold by prophets, bards, and seers—
The hero sprung from blood and tears,
All hail to Garibaldi!

Let serfs and cowards fear and quake!
O Venice, Naples, Rome, awake!
Like lava from your burning lake,
Rush on with Garibaldi!

Up and avenge your country's shame,
Like Ætna belching forth her flame,
Rush on in Freedom's holy name,
And strike with Garibaldi!

'Tis Freedom thunders in your ears;
The weary night of blood and tears,
The sorrows of a thousand years
Cry “On with Garibaldi!”

The Roman Eagle is not dead;
Her mighty wings again are spread
To swoop upon the tyrant's head,
And strike with Garibaldi!

The land wherein the laurel waves
Was never meant to nourish slaves;
Then onward to your bloody graves,
Or live like Garibaldi!