-the friars with worldly-wise
Keen sidelong glances from their beards about
The street to see who shouted; many a monk
Who takes a long rope in the waist, was there:
Whereat the popular exultation drunk
With indrawn "vivas" the whole sunny air,
While through the murmuring windows rose and sunk
A cloud of kerchiefed hands,--"The church makes fair
Her welcome in the new Pope's name." Ensued
The black sign of the "Martyrs"--(name no name,
But count the graves in silence). Next were viewed
The Artists; next, the Trades; and after came
The People,--flag and sign, and rights as good--
And very loud the shout was for that same
Motto, "Il popolo." IL POPOLO,--
The word means dukedom, empire, majesty,
And kings in such an hour might read it so.
And next, with banners, each in his degree,
Deputed representatives a-row
Of every separate state of Tuscany:
Siena's she-wolf, bristling on the fold
Of the first flag, preceded Pisa's hare,
And Massa's lion floated calm in gold,
Pienza's following with his silver stare,
Arezzo's steed pranced clear from bridle-hold,--
And well might shout our Florence, greeting there
These, and more brethren. Last, the world had sent
The various children of her teeming flanks--
Greeks, English, French--as if to a parliament
Of lovers of her Italy in ranks,
Each bearing its land's symbol reverent;
At which the stones seemed breaking into thanks
And rattling up the sky, such sounds in proof
Arose; the very house-walls seemed to bend;
The very windows, up from door to roof,
Flashed out a rapture of bright heads, to mend
With passionate looks the gesture's whirling off
A hurricane of leaves. Three hours did end
While all these passed; and ever in the crowd,
Rude men, unconscious of the tears that kept
Their beards moist, shouted; some few laughed aloud,
And none asked any why they laughed and wept:
Friends kissed each other's cheeks, and foes long vowed
More warmly did it; two-months' babies leapt
Right upward in their mother's arms, whose black
Wide glittering eyes looked elsewhere; lovers pressed
Each before either, neither glancing back;
And peasant maidens smoothly 'tired and tressed
Forgot to finger on their throats the slack
Great pearl-strings; while old blind men would not rest,
But pattered with their staves and slid their shoes
Along t