I was anxious, my friend, now that rugged winter has been smoothed by a softer breath, I was anxious to write and to address thee some grateful strain, as the first fruits of the spring. But the mournful news presages to me new storms; my songs sink into tears. In vain do the heavens smile; in in vain do the gardens and groves inspire me with un seasonable joy, and the returning concert of the birds tempt me to resume my own. I cannot mot behold with dry eyes the approaching desolation of my kind nurse, Sicily. ... Which of the two should they choose, the yoke or honor! I ruminate in silence, and know not how to decide. ... I see that in the confusion of a moment like this, our Saracens are oppressed. Will they not second the enemy? ... O that all, Christians and Saracens, would agree to elect a king! ... That on the eastern coast of the island, our Sicilian brigands should combat the barbarians, amidst the fires and lava of Etna, well and good: they are a race of fire and flint. But for the interior of Sicily, for the country honored by our beautiful Palermo, to be sullied with the sight of the barbarians, it were impious, monstrous. ... I have no hopes from the Apulians, who love novelty alone. But thou, Messina, powerful and noble city, art thou thinking of thy defence, of driving the stranger from the strait! Wo to thee, Catania! Never have thy calamities been able to satisfy and subdue fortune. War, pestilence, the fiery torrents of Etna, earthquake and ruins — there wants but servitude to fill up thy measure. Rouse thee, Syracuse, shake off peace, if thou canst; devote the eloquence in which thou arrayest thyself, to revive the courage of thy citizens. What avails it to have freed thyself from thy Dionysiuses. ... Ah! who will restore us our tyrants! ... I now come to thee, O Palermo, head of Sicily! How pass thee over in silence, and how he laud thee fitly!
— HUGO FALCANDUS