Italia! O Italia! Thou Who Hast The

Hatred Is The Madness Of The Heart.

One Certainly Has A Soul; But How It Came To Allow Itself To Be Enclosed In A Body Is More Than I Can Imagine.

I Have A Passion For The Name Of "mary," For Once It Was A Magic Sound To Me, And Still It Half Calls Up The Realms Of Fairy, Where I Beheld What Never Was To Be.

Though The Day Of My Destiny 's Over, And The Star Of My Fate Hath Declined, Thy Soft Heart Refused To Discover The Faults Which So Many Could Find.

This Man Is Freed From Servile Bands, Of Hope To Rise, Or Fear To Fall; Lord Of Himself, Though Not Of Lands, And Leaving Nothing, Yet Hath All.