Syracuse

In brighter days the Dorian Muse
Extoll'd the kings of Syracuse.
Hieros and Gelons shook the rein
Of coursers on the Olympic plain,
Victors at Elis, where they won
A crown no king can leave his son.
There Finder struck his harp aloud,
And shared the applauses of the crowd.
Then Science from deep study rais'd
A greater man than bards have praised.
When Syracuse met Roman foes,
Above her proudest he arose ; .
He called from heaven the Lord of Light
To lend him his all-piercing might.
The patriot's pious prayer was heard,
And vaunting navies disappeared ;

Through clouds of smoke sparks widely flew,
And hissing rafts the shore bestrew ;

Some on the Punic sands were cast,
And Carthage was avenged at last.

Alas ! how fallen art thou since,
O Syracuse ! how many a prince
Of Gallia's parti-color'd brood
Have crept o'er thee to suck thy blood!
Syracuse ! raise again thy head.

Long hast thou slept, but art not dead.

A late avenger now is come
Whose voice alone can split the tomb.

Hearest thou not the world throughout
Cry Garibaldi ? One loud shout
Arises, and there needs but one
To shatter a polluted throne.