[Vincenzo da Filicaia, Dov'è, Italia, il tuo braccio?, “All'Italia”, c. 1690]
Where is thine arm, Italy? why employ
A stranger’s hand to guard thee? he who saves
Is not less fierce than they who now destroy:
Both are thy foes, and both were once thy slaves.
Preserv’st thou thus thine honour? dar’st thou show
Such mem’ry of thy once all-glorious reign?
To Valour, ancient Valour, keep’st thou so
The plighted faith he swore to thee again?
Go, then! divorce thy wedded lord! espouse
Foul, helpless Sloth! sleep on, ’mid cries abhorr’d,
And groans, and murder, mindless of thy vows!
Sleep, vile adult’ress, till th’ avenging sword
Find thee a naked, slumb’ring, guilty prey,
Ev’n in thy leman’s arms, and wake thee but to slay!
