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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
V. THE DEATH OF POPE HILDEBRAND.
‘Justice I loved: the unrighteous way by meWas hated; for that cause exile I die.’
Thus Hildebrand; his prelates wept hard by
Save one, his best and dearest. All night he
Had watched that Sufferer while Salerno's sea
Beat on the neighbouring coasts. With kindling eye
Fixed on the dying man he made reply
Risen from the ground yet bending still his knee:
‘Father, not so! All wrongs save one may rage
Around God's Church, strike down its earthly Head:
A prison may be his home, a rack his bed,—
Exile he can not be for God hath sworn
“The heathen I will make thy heritage
And thy possession earth's remotest bourn.”’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |