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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XXVIII. THE TEMPORAL POWER.
That one high realm which, not through fraud or forceBut for man's need, with glad consent of men
Rose when the Roman empire lay a corse,
And the Northern Beast forth bounding from his den
Ravined alike on priest and citizen
Hath oftenest fallen. Bandits without remorse
Plotters low-voiced, and Peoples blasphemy-hoarse,
Have wrought its fall again and yet again:
Yet evermore that Hand beyond the skies
Which raised it first, restores that Sign august:
The nations wake; they stare with wondering eyes;
'Tis there, that Power! It lives because it must!
The shade it is of Peter's Rock: far hurled
It heaves along the great waves of the world.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |