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I give thee joy ! — I know to thee
1 The dearest spot on earth must be Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea ;
Where, near her sweetest poet's tomb,
The land of Virgil gave thee room
I know that when the sky shut down
Behind thee on the gleaming town, On Baiæ’s baths and Posilippo's crown;
And, through thy tears, the mocking day
Burned Ischia's mountain lines away, And Capri melted in its sunny bay, —
Through thy great farewell sorrow shot
The sharp pang of a bitter thought That slaves must tread around that holy spot.
Thou knewest not the land was blest
In giving thy beloved rest,
That every sweet and saintly grave
Was freedom's prophecy, and gave
That pledge is answered. To thy ear
The unchained city sends its cheer, And, tuned to joy, the muffled bells of fear
Ring Victor in. The land sits free
And happy by the summer sea, And Bourbon Naples now is Italy !
She smiles above her broken chain
The languid smile that follows pain, Stretching her cramped limbs to the sun again.
0, joy for all, who hear her call
From Camaldoli's convent wall
A new life breathes among her vines
And olives, like the breath of pines Blown downward from the breezy Apennines.
Lean, O my friend, to meet that breath,
Rejoice as one who witnesseth Beauty from ashes rise, and life from death!