It was impossible also for Italy, the ancient home of Civilization, the mother of arts and refinement, to accept the standard of the Huns which the Germans embraced and imposed upon their allies. The conflict between the Germans and the Italians was instinctive, temperamental. For a thousand years it took the form of a struggle between the German Emperors and the Italian Popes for mastery. The Germans strove for political domination, for temporal power; the Italians strove, at least in ideal, in order that the spiritual should not be the vassal of the physical. It was soul force against brute force. Looking at it as deeply as possible we see that the Italians, a race sprung out of ancient culture, mightily affected but not denatured by Christianity, repudiated the Barbarian ideals of Teutonism. Men whose ancestors had worshiped Jupiter and Apollo, and who were themselves worshipping the Christian God, Madonna and the great saints, had no spiritual affinity with men whose ancestors could conceive of no Deities higher than Thor, Odin and the other rough, crude, and unmannered denizens of the Northern Walhalla. So Italy stood by Civilization. Her risk was great, but great shall be her guerdon in the approval of her own conscience and the gratitude of posterity. [signed] William Roscoe Thayer Sept. 1, 1917. Al Generale Cadorna "Io ho quel che ho donato." Questo che in Te si compie anno di sorte, l'Italia l'alza in cima della spada mirando al segno; e la sua rossa strada ne brilla insino alle sue alpine porte. Tu tendi la potenza della morte come un arco tra il Vodice e l'Hermada; varchi l'Isonzo indomito ove guada la tua Vittoria col tuo pugno forte. Giovine sei, rinato dalla terra sitibonda, balzato su dal duro Carso col fiore dei tuio fanti imberbi. Questo, che in te si compie, anno di guerra splenda da te, avido del futuro, e al domani terribile ti serbi. Gabriele D'Annunzio To General Cadorna On his 69th birthday, September 11, 1917 "What I have given, that have I" This fateful year which thou fulfillest so, Our Italy, her cherisht goal in sight, Exalts upon her sword; and gleameth bright Her ruddy pathway to the gates of snow. The power of death thou bendest like a bow 'Twixt Vodice and bleak Hermada's height; And Victory, guided by thy hand of might, Thro' wild Isonzo forth doth fording go. Reborn from lands of drought, a youth art thou, Upheaved by rugged Carso suddenly With all the lads of thine advancing throng. This bloody year which thou fulfillest now, O may it, onward pressing, shine with thee And keep thee for the fearful morrow strong! Poetical Version by [signed] C.H. Grangent The Voice of Italy