If that most noble soul, which, here on earth,
Was known as Manin, yet have consciousness
Of what is, and what is not, being not less
Than here he was, in courage and in worth,
Seeing the world whereon we sweat and strive;
Shall he not know his Italy, and bless,
And in his own heart praise the steadfastness
That held him to his purpose when alive?
Shall he not have reward for all his pain,
Who, dying with his incompleted aim,
Saw failure only, and the bitter toll
Of loved ones lost, and lost, it seemed, in vain?
Must not that heart still keep his country's name,
Though o'er him all death's waters heave and roll?