We who are here written down, having all sworn, despising the calumnies of the vulgar, strong in the justice of our cause and the boldness of our spirits, do solemnly declare ourselves the initiators of the Italian revolution. If the country does not respond to our appeal, we, without reproaching it, will know how to die like brave men, following the noble phalanx of Italian martyrs. Let any other nation of the world find men who, like us, shall immolate themselves to liberty, and then only may it compare itself to Italy, though she still be a slave. Mercantini puts his poem in the mouth of a peasant girl, and calls it THE GLEANER OF SAPRI. They were three hundred; they were young and strong, And they are dead! That morning I was going out to glean; A ship in the middle of the sea was seen A barque it was of those that go by steam, And from its top a tricolor flag did stream. It anchored off the isle of Ponza; then It stopped awhile, and then it turned again Toward this place, and here they came ashore. They came with arms, but not on us made war. They were three hundred; they were young and strong, And they are dead! They came in arms, but not on us made war; But down they stooped until they kissed the shore, And one by one I looked them in the face,-- A tear and smile in each one I could trace. They were all thieves and robbers, their foes said. They never took from us a loaf of bread. I heard them utter nothing but this cry: “We have come to die, for our dear land to die.” They were three hundred; they were young and strong, And they are dead! With his blue eyes and with his golden hair There was a youth that marched before them there, And I made bold and took him by the hand, And “Whither goest thou, captain of this band?” He looked at me and said: “Oh, sister mine, I'm going to die for this dear land of thine.” I felt my bosom tremble through and through; I could not say, “May the Lord help you!” They were three hundred; they were young and strong, And they are dead! I did forget to glean afield that day, But after them I wandered on their way. And twice I saw them fall on the gendarmes, And both times saw them take away their arms, But when they came to the Certosa's wall There rose a sound of horns and drums, and all Amidst the smoke and shot and darting flame More than a thousand foemen fell on them. They were three hundred; they were young and strong, And they are dead!