Janet Hamilton

1795-1873 / Scotland

Garibaldi In His Conquering Career In Italy

Oh for a blast of the loudest
E'er blown from the trumpet of fame!
Oh for a song of the proudest
E'er sung to the conqueror's name!
Laurels, the freshest and rarest,
By hero and warrior worn,
Virtues, the richest and fairest,
The patriot leader adorn.
Excelsior inscribed on his banner,
'Tis pure as his own Alpine snow;
He gave it true soul of bright honour,
O'er fields of his glory to flow.
The fate of the poet's sad stranger
His was not the summit sublime;
He gained, through dark peril and danger,
The admired and beloved of all time.
Land of song, genius, and beauty,
He came in the hour of thy need,
On the wings of devotion and duty,
A son and a saviour indeed.
The trumpet of Freedom is sounding,
'Awake ye that sleep in the dust,'
From the grave of dark centuries bounding-
Heaven wills it, he wills it, ye must.
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