Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/190

184 While through the murmuring windows rose and sunk A cloud of kerchiefed hands! "the church makes fair Her welcome in the new Pope's name." Ensued The black sign of the "martyrs!" name no name, But count the graves in silence. Next, were viewed The artists; next, the trades; and after came The populace, with flag and rights as good; And very loud the shout was for that same Motto, "Il popolo," ,— The word meant dukedom, empire, majesty, And kings in such an hour might read it so. And next, with banners, each in his degree, Deputed representatives a-row, Of every separate state of Tuscany: Siena's she-wolf, bristling on the fold Of the first flag, preceded Pisa's hare; And Massa's lion floated calm in gold, Pienza's following with his silver stare; Arezzo's steed pranced clear from bridle-hold,— And well might shout our Florence, greeting there These, and more brethren! Last, the world had sent The various children of her teeming flanks— Greeks, English, French—as to some parliament Of lovers of her Italy, in ranks, Each bearing its land's symbols reverent; At which the stones seemed breaking into thanks And rattling up to the sky, such sounds in proof Arose! the very house-walls seemed to bend, The very windows, up from door to roof, Flashed out a rapture of bright heads, to mend,