It wrung his spirit to remember when
That city hail'd him as her only star,
Worthy to reign where Masaniello rul'd.
Dejected chief! the tears forsook his eyes,
When on his vision rush'd the bygone love
Applauding thousands bore him, as he rode
In pride imperial 'midst the bending throng.

The gathering crowds along Ajaccio's streets
Felt Freedom's fervor kindle in their souls;
And Murat's banner fann'd the glorious flame.
"'Tis past," he cried, "and now I proudly come,
O, shameless Naples! in thy arms to die,
Or nobly live."

"Now blood for tears! my sword, my sword!
Be thou unsheath'd in Naples' cause,
I'll meet again the battle horde,
And beard the bravest of my foes!

"Proud Austria! I will drive thee back,
Deem not that Naples' throne is thine;
For soon shall Murat's bivouac
Keep watch upon thy tented line.

"Nor taunt of enemy shall move,
Nor bitterest suffering shall degrade,
My heart--for with my people's love
My daring will be richly paid.