Various - The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 05, March, 1858 стр 13.

  Victory! Victory!Yes! ah, yes, thou republican Zion,
  Truly the kings of the earth are gathered and gone by together;
  Doubtless they marvelled to witness such things, were astonished,
    and so forth.
  Victory! Victory! Victory!Ah, but it is, believe me,
  Easier, easier far, to intone the chant of the martyr
  Than to indite any paean of any victory. Death may
  Sometimes be noble; but life, at the best, will appear an illusion,
  While the great pain is upon us, it is great; when it is over,
  Why, it is over. The smoke of the sacrifice rises to heaven,
  Of a sweet savor, no doubt, to somebody; but on the altar,
  Lo, there is nothing remaining but ashes and dirt and ill odor.

  So it stands, you perceive; the labial muscles, that swelled with
  Vehement evolution of yesterday Marseillaises,
  Articulations sublime of defiance and scorning, to-day col-
  Lapse and languidly mumble, while men and women and papers
  Scream and re-scream to each other the chorus of Victory. Well, but
  I am thankful they fought, and glad that the Frenchmen were beaten.

  So I have seen a man killed! An experience that, among others!
  Yes, I suppose I have; although I can hardly be certain,
  And in a court of justice could never declare I had seen it.
  But a man was killed, I am told, in a place where I saw
  Something; a man was killed, I am told, and I saw something.

  I was returning home from St. Peter's; Murray, as usual,
  Under my arm, I remember; had crossed the St. Angelo bridge; and
  Moving towards the Condotti, had got to the first barricade, when
  Gradually, thinking still of St. Peter's, I became conscious
  Of a sensation of movement opposing me,tendency this way
  (Such as one fancies may be in a stream when the wave of the tide is
  Coming and not yet come,a sort of poise and retention);
  So I turned, and, before I turned, caught sight of stragglers
  Heading a crowd, it is plain, that is coming behind that corner.
  Looking up, I see windows filled with heads; the Piazza,
  Into which you remember the Ponte St. Angelo enters,
  Since I passed, has thickened with curious groups; and now the
  Crowd is coming, has turned, has crossed that last barricade, is
  Here at my side. In the middle they drag at something. What is it?
  Ha! bare swords in the air, held up! There seem to be voices
  Pleading and hands putting back; official, perhaps; but the swords are
  Many, and bare in the air,in the air! They descend! They are smiting,
  Hewing, chopping! At what? In the air once more upstretched! And
  Is it blood that's on them? Yes, certainly blood! Of whom, then?
  Over whom is the cry of this furor of exultation?

  While they are skipping and screaming, and dancing their caps on the
    points of
  Swords and bayonets, I to the outskirts back, and ask a
  Mercantile-seeming bystander, "What is it?" and he, looking always
  That way, makes me answer, "A Priest, who was trying to fly to
  The Neapolitan army,"and thus explains the proceeding.

  You didn't see the dead man? No;I began to be doubtful;
  I was in black myself, and didn't know what mightn't happen;
  But a National Guard close by me, outside of the hubbub,
  Broke his sword with slashing a broad hat covered with dust,and
  Passing away from the place with Murray under my arm, and
  Stooping, I saw through the legs of the people the legs of a body.

  You are the first, do you know, to whom I have mentioned the matter.
  Whom should I tell it to, else?these girls?the Heavens forbid it!
  Quidnuncs at Monaldini's?idlers upon the Pincian?

  If I rightly remember, it happened on that afternoon when
  Word of the nearer approach of a new Neapolitan army
  First was spread. I began to bethink me of Paris Septembers,
  Thought I could fancy the look of the old 'Ninety-two. On that evening,
  Three or four, or, it may be, five, of these people were slaughtered.
  Some declare they had, one of them, fired on a sentinel; others
  Say they were only escaping; a Priest, it is currently stated,
  Stabbed a National Guard on the very Piazza Colonna:
  History, Rumor of Rumors, I leave it to thee to determine!

  But I am thankful to say the government seems to have strength to
  Put it down; it has vanished, at least; the place is now peaceful.
  Through the Trastevere walking last night, at nine of the clock, I
  Found no sort of disorder; I crossed by the Island-bridges,
  So by the narrow streets to the Ponte Rotto, and onwards
  Thence, by the Temple of Vesta, away to the great Coliseum,
  Which at the full of the moon is an object worthy a visit.

  George has just seen Garibaldi, dressed up in a long white cloak, on
  Horseback, riding by, with his mounted negro behind him:
  This is a man, you know, who came from America with him,
  Out of the woods, I suppose, and uses a lasso in fighting,
  Which is, I don't quite know, but a sort of noose, I imagine;
  This he throws on the heads of the enemy's men in a battle,
  Pulls them into his reach, and then most cruelly kills them:
  Mary does not believe, but we heard it from an Italian.

  Mary allows she was wrong about Mr. Claude being selfish;
  He was most useful and kind on the terrible thirtieth of April.

  Do not write here any more; we are starting directly for Florence:
  We should be off to-morrow, if only Papa could get horses;
  All have been seized everywhere for the use of this dreadful Mazzini.

  Mary has seen thus far.I am really so angry, Louisa,
  Quite out of patience, my dearest! What can the man be intending?
  I am quite tired; and Mary, who might bring him to in a moment,
  Lets him go on as he likes, and neither will help nor dismiss him.

  It is most curious to see what a power a few calm words (in
  Merely a brief proclamation) appear to possess on the people.
  Order is perfect, and peace; the city is utterly tranquil;
  And one cannot conceive that this easy and nonchalant crowd, that
  Flows like a quiet stream through street and market-place, entering
  Shady recesses and bays of church, ostería and caffè,
  Could in a moment be changed to a flood as of molten lava,
  Boil into deadly wrath and wild homicidal delusion.

  Ah, 'tis an excellent race,and even in old degradation,
  Under a rule that enforces to flattery, lying, and cheating,
  E'en under Pope and Priest, a nice and natural people.
  Oh, could they but be allowed this chance of redemption!but clearly
  That is not likely to be. Meantime, notwithstanding all journals,
  Honor for once to the tongue and the pen of the eloquent writer!
  Honor to speech! and all honor to thee, thou noble Mazzini!