Rienzi to the Romans

From “Rienzi” FRIENDS! I come not here to talk. Ye know too well The story of our thraldom. We are slaves! The bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves! he sets, and his last beam Falls on a slave! Not such as, swept along By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads To crimson glory and undying fame, But base, ignoble slaves!—slaves to a horde Of petty tyrants, feudal despots; lords Rich in some dozen paltry villages, Strong in some hundred spearmen, only great In that strange spell,—a name! Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cries out against them. But this very day An honest man, my neighbor (pointing to PAOLO),—there he stands,— Was struck—struck like a dog—by one who wore The badge of Ursini! because, forsooth, He tossed not high his ready cap in air, Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men, And suffer such dishonor? men, and wash not The stain away in blood? Such shames are common. I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye, I had a brother once, a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look Of Heaven upon his face which limners give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy! younger by fifteen years, Brother at once and son! He left my side; A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried For vengeance! Rouse ye, Romans! Rouse ye, slaves! Have ye brave sons?—Look in the next fierce brawl To see them die! Have ye fair daughters?—Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash! Yet this is Rome, That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty ruled the world! Yet we are Romans! Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman Was greater than a king! And once again— Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus!—once again, I swear, The eternal city shall be free; her sons shall walk with princes.