From Casa Guidi windows gazing, then, I saw and witness how the Duke came back. The regular tramp of horse and tread of men Did smite the silence like an anvil black And sparkless. With her wide eyes at full strain, Our Tuscan nurse exclaimed "Alack, alack, Signora! these shall be the Austrians." "Nay, Be still," I answered, "do not wake the child!" --For so, my two-months' baby sleeping lay In milky dreams upon the bed and smiled, And I thought "He shall sleep on, while he may, Through the world's baseness: not being yet defiled, Why should he be disturbed by what is done?" Then, gazing, I beheld the long-drawn street Live out, from end to end, full in the sun, With Austria's thousand; sword and bayonet, Horse, foot, artillery,--cannons rolling on Like blind slow storm-clouds gestant with the heat Of undeveloped lightnings, each bestrode By a single man, dust-white from head to heel, Indifferent as the dreadful thing he rode, Like a sculptured Fate serene and terrible. As some smooth river which has overflowed Will slow and silent down its current wheel A loosened forest, all the pines erect, So swept, in mute significance of storm, The marshalled thousands; not an eye deflect To left or right, to catch a novel form Of Florence city adorned by architect And carver, or of Beauties live and warm Scared at the casements,--all, straightforward eyes And faces, held as steadfast as their swords, And cognizant of acts, not imageries. The key, O Tuscans, too well fits the wards! Ye asked for mimes,--these bring you tragedies: For purple,--these shall wear it as your lords. Ye played like children,--die like innocents. Ye mimicked lightnings with a torch,--the crack Of the actual bolt, your pastime circumvents. Ye called up ghosts, believing they were slack To follow any voice from Gilboa's tents, ... Here's Samuel!--and, so, Grand-dukes come back!