18- CROMWELL'S BATTLE PSALMS. THE most famous of the Battle Songs of the Ironsides was the Sixty-eighth Psalm, which was sung before fighting, and the One Hundred and Seventeenth, which they sang after victory. They had no need for anything to sing after defeat, for they never were defeated. The Sixty-eighth was a famous warrior-psalm long before Cromwell's time. It was the favourite of Charlemagne. Savonarola chanted it as he trod the dolorous way to the stake. It was called by the Huguenots the Song of Battles, and was raised by them in many a desperate fight. The most notable occasion on which it was sung by the Army of the Commonwealth was on the morning of the Battle of Dunbar. Terrible indeed, in the dim and misty morning, must have sounded the voices of the Ironsides singing as they stood ready waiting for the word to charge. This was probably the version that they used: L ET God arise, and scattered let all his en'mies be; And let all those that do him hate As smoke is driv'n, so drive thou them; Before God's face let wicked men so perish and decay. But let the righteous be glad: To God sing, to his name sing praise; That rides on heav'n, by his name The One Hundred and Seventeenth Psalm was sung after the victory was won, and became known thereafter as the Dunbar Psalm. When 66 the Scotch army, shivered to utter ruin, rushes in tumultuous wreck," "the Lord General made a halt, and sung the one hundred and seventeenth psalm, till our horse could gather for the chase." "Hundred and seventeenth psalm," says Mr. Carlyle, 'at the foot of the Doon Hill; there we uplift it, to the tune of Bangor, or some still higher score, and roll it strong and great against the sky": GIVE ye praise unto the Lord, For great to us-ward ever are his loving-kindnesses: His truth endures for evermore. The Lord O do ye bless. Doggerel, no doubt; but who would exchange that rugged verse, sung from the hearts of the victors of Dunbar, while the smoke of their powder was still lying low over the dead, for the most mellifluous verse whose melody charmed the ear of the critic, but never stirred the mighty hearts of heroes? 19-GARIBALDI'S HYMN. THE REV. H. R. Haweis, who probably is the best repository of Garibaldian reminiscences among Englishspeaking men, has been good enough to send me the following notes on the way in which this famous hymn helped the Italian struggle for national unity and independence. Mr. Haweis writes : "Garibaldi's hymn, like so many other tunes and stanzas, was composed by a comparatively obscure per son named Luigi Mercantini, and the music was composed by Alessio Olivieri, of Genoa. I well remember in 1860 being told by an Italian how a friend of his had taken him into a back shop in Venice for fear of the Austrians, and played over to him the then unknown tune, showing him the words to which it was to be sung, and declaring that it would be likely to seize upon the popular heart and ear and become the clarion of patriotic advance and victory. This turned out to be the case. Throughout the length and breadth of Italy from '59 to '69, at all events- Garibaldi's hymn rang out in every café, on every organ, at every social or political gathering, and in every street throughout Italy. It is lively and buoyant. Why it is called a hymn it is difficult to say - it has a bounce and go about it which suggests the irrepressible recklessness, fearlessness, and audacious jollity of youth. It voiced young Italy's aspirations. The revolution was indeed the work chiefly of boys with a few veterans at their backs. The 1000 of Marsala, the remnants of the Italian legion, formed in South America and the defenders of Rome in 1848 -these were the iron-handed, golden-souled veterans and the Garibaldian armies were recruited from the boys of Italy. Garibaldi's hymn suited them down to the ground. It ranks with the Marseillaise as a revolutionary inspirer, but it has a light-hearted joyousness and a rollicking rush and devil-may-care slapdash about it that the gloomier Marseillaise cannot lay claim to. I shall never forget coming down one fresh autumn morning from the Camaldoli hills above Naples and meeting about one hundred Garibaldians in their red shirts and muskets shouldered marching joyously up hill-it was a few days after the battle of Volturnofour trumpeters walked in front, blowing Garibaldi's hymn to their hearts' content, whilst the young lithe guerilleros (I don't think there could have been one over twenty) seemed to step on air. I can recollect their bright sunny faces and eyes glowing with happy enthusiasm even now — lack-a-day, 't is thirty-six years ago!" S1 scopron le tombe, si levano i morti, I martiri nostri son tutti risorti! Le spade nel pugno, gli allori alle chiome, Va fuora d'Italia, va fuora ch'è l'ora, La terra dei fiori, dei suoni e dei carmi Non crescon al giogo le stirpi di Roma; Le case d'Italia son fatte per noi, È là sul Danubio la casa de' tuoi; Col carro di foco rompiam gli Apennini; Va fuora d'Italia, va fuora ch'è l'ora, Non basta il trionfo di barbare spoglie, Va fuora d'Italia, va fuora ch'è l'ora, Se ancora dell'Alpi tentasser gli spaldi, Va fuora d'Italia, va fuora ch'è l'ora, Per sempre è caduto degli empi l'orgoglio, Soltanto ai tiranni minaccia le fronti; Va fuora d'Italia, va fuora ch'è l'ora, A friend has kindly sent me the following free translation of the first stanza: Uplifted the tombstones! Our martyrs arisen ! Brave Italy's bravest Have leapt from Death's prison ! |