It was a grand and solemn moment. The looks, the souls, of all were quivering at the sight of that coffin and the darkened banners of the eighty regiments of the army of Italy, borne by eighty officers, drawn up in line on its passage: for Italy was there in those eighty tokens, which recalled the thousands of dead, the torrents of blood, our most sacred glories, our most holy sacrifices, our most tremendous griefs. The coffin, borne by the cuirassiers, passed, and then the banners bent forward all together in salute, --the banners of the new regiments, the old, tattered banners of Goito, of Pastrengo, of Santa Lucia, of Novara, of the Crimea, of Palestro, of San Martino, of Castelfidardo; eighty black veils fell, a hundred medals clashed against the staves, and that sonorous and confused uproar, which stirred the blood of all, was like the sound of a thousand human voices saying all together, 'Farewell, good king, gallant king, loyal king! Thou wilt live in the heart of thy people as long as the sun shall shine over Italy.'
这实是最崇高严肃的一瞬间，上下目送玉棺，对了那色彩黯然的八十流的军旗掩面泣下。这军旗实足令人回想到无数的战死者，无数的鲜血，我国最大的光荣，最神圣的牺牲，及最悲惨的不幸来。骑兵把工棺移入，军旗就都向前倾倒。其中有新联队的旗，也有经过了不少的战争而破碎的古联队旗。八十条黑流，向前垂下，无数的勋章触着旗杆丁冬作响。这响声在群众耳里好像有上千人齐声在那里说：‘别了！我君！在太阳照着意大利的时候，君的灵魂永远宿在我们臣民的心胸里！’

"After this, the banners rose heavenward once more, and King Vittorio entered into the immortal glory of the tomb."
“军旗又举到空中了。我们的维多利亚·爱马努爱列二世陛下，在灵庙之中永享着不朽的光荣了！”