Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/232

 Record that gain, Mazzini!—Yes, but first Set down thy people's faults:—set down the want Of soul-conviction; set down aims dispersed, And incoherent means, and valour scant Because of scanty faith, and schisms accursed That wrench these brother-hearts from covenant With freedom and each other. Set down this And this, and see to overcome it when The seasons bring the fruits thou wilt not miss If wary. Let no cry of patriot men Distract thee from the stern analysis Of masses who cry only: keep thy ken Clear as thy soul is virtuous. Heroes' blood Splashed up against thy noble brow in Rome.— Let such not blind thee to the interlude Which was not also holy, yet did come 'Twixt sacramental actions:-brotherhood, Despised even there,—and something of the doom Of Remus, in the trenches. Listen now— Rossi died silent near where Cæsar died. He did not say, "My Brutus, is it thou?" Instead, rose Italy and testified, Twas I, and I am Brutus,—I avow." At which the whole world's laugh of scorn replied, "A poor maimed copy of Brutus!" Too much like, Indeed, to be so unlike. Too unskilled At Philippi and the honest battle-pike, To be so skilful where a man is killed Near Pompey's statue, and the daggers strike At unawares i' the throat. Was thus fulfilled An omen of great Michel Angelo,—