Massaniello
Naples, the envied and the beautiful,
Whose loveliness was fame;—her peasants were
Held in the ruthless grasp of feudal power;
Tyranny was triumphant:—the stern lord
Trode on the withered heart of the worn slave,
Whose famished offspring had, perchance, been sent
Unhelped, unsolaced, to untimely death.
The iron hand of power despoiled the wretch
Ev'n of the meagre earnings of his toil—
Oppression was the sole omnipotence,
And all who were not noble, must, perforce
Bow down before the fiend-like deity;
And without daring to bewail their fate,
Perish in the dark terrors of his frown!
Such was thy state, oh, Naples! such thy griefs,
When from the suffering, undistinguished mass,
(Distinguished but by suffering) arose
A glorious meteor, whose undying light,
Though hidden for awhile in the pure blood
Of thy proud patriot hero, still shines on,
And shall for ever! He, Massaniello!
Stung into daring action by the wrongs
Inflicted on his countrymen, arose
Strong in the giant-might of one who dares
Snatch from the despot's grasp the steel he stains:
He stood amid his fellows, and he spoke
The words of truth and sorrow, and they heard:
He stood 'mid Neapolitans, and poured
Upon their souls unpolished eloquence—
A patriot's burning elequence: they felt:
He called upon them by the sacred names
Of home, of country, and of God! they armed:
He led those soldiers of a sacred cause
'Gainst their domestic spoilers—and they conquered!
Such was Massaniello: at his glance
Tyranny quailed submissively; his words
Breathed freedom's lightnings; the unhallowed might
Of titled villains sunk beneath his arm!
It was a glorious time, although so brief!
It was a glorious time—for man was then
His Maker's champion! and asserting thus
The rights which God bestowed, he stood at once
The advocate of his own cause and Heaven's!
Naples was free once more; her children stood
Beneath the banner of the fisherman ,
Unfettered, unoppressed! Their patriot—
Their chief—was watchful o'er the rights his bold
And rare devotion had acquired. But ah!
How men, and nations, freedom, life, and fame
Become the unresisting prey of one
All-powerful dispenser of our good
Or evil—ever-varying circumstance!
The fisherman—the patriot—the hero—
The saviour—all but sovereign of the state—
Is not what he hath been! Few days have past
Since he was all the greatest sigh to be;
And now alas! he is what the most lowly
Dare not to envy.
In the pride of power,
With freedom and prosperity, the work
Of his own hands around him; by the few
Who would be tyrants, feared; but by the many
Whom his heroic virtue enfranchised,
Beloved and worshipped—even at this time—
A madman poor Massaniello dies!
Whose loveliness was fame;—her peasants were
Held in the ruthless grasp of feudal power;
Tyranny was triumphant:—the stern lord
Trode on the withered heart of the worn slave,
Whose famished offspring had, perchance, been sent
Unhelped, unsolaced, to untimely death.
The iron hand of power despoiled the wretch
Ev'n of the meagre earnings of his toil—
Oppression was the sole omnipotence,
And all who were not noble, must, perforce
Bow down before the fiend-like deity;
And without daring to bewail their fate,
Perish in the dark terrors of his frown!
Such was thy state, oh, Naples! such thy griefs,
When from the suffering, undistinguished mass,
(Distinguished but by suffering) arose
A glorious meteor, whose undying light,
Though hidden for awhile in the pure blood
Of thy proud patriot hero, still shines on,
And shall for ever! He, Massaniello!
Stung into daring action by the wrongs
Inflicted on his countrymen, arose
Strong in the giant-might of one who dares
Snatch from the despot's grasp the steel he stains:
He stood amid his fellows, and he spoke
The words of truth and sorrow, and they heard:
He stood 'mid Neapolitans, and poured
Upon their souls unpolished eloquence—
A patriot's burning elequence: they felt:
He called upon them by the sacred names
Of home, of country, and of God! they armed:
He led those soldiers of a sacred cause
'Gainst their domestic spoilers—and they conquered!
Such was Massaniello: at his glance
Tyranny quailed submissively; his words
Breathed freedom's lightnings; the unhallowed might
Of titled villains sunk beneath his arm!
It was a glorious time, although so brief!
It was a glorious time—for man was then
His Maker's champion! and asserting thus
The rights which God bestowed, he stood at once
The advocate of his own cause and Heaven's!
Naples was free once more; her children stood
Beneath the banner of the fisherman ,
Unfettered, unoppressed! Their patriot—
Their chief—was watchful o'er the rights his bold
And rare devotion had acquired. But ah!
How men, and nations, freedom, life, and fame
Become the unresisting prey of one
All-powerful dispenser of our good
Or evil—ever-varying circumstance!
The fisherman—the patriot—the hero—
The saviour—all but sovereign of the state—
Is not what he hath been! Few days have past
Since he was all the greatest sigh to be;
And now alas! he is what the most lowly
Dare not to envy.
In the pride of power,
With freedom and prosperity, the work
Of his own hands around him; by the few
Who would be tyrants, feared; but by the many
Whom his heroic virtue enfranchised,
Beloved and worshipped—even at this time—
A madman poor Massaniello dies!
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