Thou of the pensive brow, the troubled heart;

Dreamer of Italy! The man who stood

In the Eternal City, ‘mid the throng,

A soldier and a patriot; breathing words

That told of freedom and he glorious cause,

Thy words of truth and fire are bearing fruit,

The dream of noble hearts hath found a voice

And arms to fight for what a dreamer dreamed.

Thou pioneer of freedom! But for thee

A Garibaldi ne'er had taken arms,

Or found the hearts that throbbed for Italy,

Thou, the dreamer deemed, hast proved to be

A John the Baptist to prepare the way

For Italy's Messiah! Let the crown,

The fadeless crown, whose laurels never die,

Encircle too that high and massive brow,

Wrinked and care-worn in the holy cause

Of freedom and of right.

The advocates of right and truth's advance

Are always counted dreamers; but their dream

Will have its full fruition. Even in nature,

The little seeds that kindly have sown,

Would never promise the sublime result,

That shows our native oak with spreading brnaches

The king that rules the forests of our land.

And though immortal man! E'en from thy youth,

Hast spread the seed of freedom's holy tree,

And now a giant oak it spreads around

The shadow of its branches.

Dreamer no more! The sacred Cause of life,

Hath proved the dream in truth and sanctity,

God is love! and is the God of freedom.

Awake once more to gladness, children, ye

Who are the image of the parent God;

Of whom He said of such His kingdom are,

Lift up little hands and learn to bless,

E'en in the gladness of your childhood's joy,

Your two deliverers.