With hair all loosened to the sacred breeze From Tabor’s Mount--thou art the race of light, That lives of joy, and round about whose knees Enthusiasm springs, and pure delight; The Apostolic race, that through the land Sets all the bells a-ringing once again; Thou art the trumpet that proclaims--the hand That scatters far and wide the bounteous grain. Arise, arise renewed, O Latin race, &c. Thy mother-tongue, that mighty stream that flows Afar through seven branches, never dies; But light and love outpouring, onward goes, An echo that resounds from Paradise. O Roman daughter of the People-King, Thy golden language, it is still the song That human lips unceasingly shall sing-- While words yet have a meaning--ages long. Arise, arise renewed, &c. Thy blood illustrious on every side Hath been outpoured for justice and for right; Thy mariners across the distant tide Have sailed to bring an unknown world to light. A hundred times the pulsing of thy thought Hath shattered and brought low thy kings of yore; Ah! but for thy divisions, who had sought Ever to rule thee, or to frame thy law! Arise, arise renewed, &c. Kindling thy torch at radiances divine From the high stars, ’tis thou hast given birth, In shapes of marble and in pictured line, To Beauty’s self, incarnate upon earth. The native country thou of god-like Art, All graces and all sweetness come from thee, Thou art the source of joy for every heart, Yea, thou art youth, and ever more shalt be. Arise, arise renewed, &c. With thy fair women’s pure and noble forms The world’s pantheons everywhere are stored; And at thy triumphs, yea, thy tears, thy storms, Men’s hearts must palpitate with one accord; The earth’s in blossom when thy meadows bloom, And o’er thy follies every one goes mad; But when thy glory is eclipsed in gloom The whole world puts on mourning and is sad. Arise, arise renewed, &c. Thy limpid sea, that sea serene, where fleet The whitening sails innumerable ply, That crisps the soft, wet sand about thy feet, And mirrors back the azure of the sky, That ever-smiling sea, God poured its flood From out His splendour with a lavish hand, To bind the brown-hued peoples of thy blood With one unbroken, scintillating band. Arise, arise renewed, &c. Upon thy sun-kissed slopes, on every side The olive grows, the tree of peace divine, And all thy lands are crownèd with the pride Of thy prolific, broadly-spreading vine. O Latin race, in faithful memory Of that thy glorious, ever-shining past, Arise in hope toward thy destiny, One brotherhood beneath the Cross at last!