Chronicles and Characters :: :: University of Virginia Library

Grew hoarse, then husht, in his golden throat,
And the latest loiterer, slacking his walk,
Cast one last glance at the catafalk,
And, passing the door, renew'd his talk
As to that last raid of Prince Colonna,
—‘What villages burn'd? and what hope of indemnity?’
The Beauty from Venice (or was it Verona?)
With the nimbus of red gold hair, God bless her!
And who should be the late Pope's successor?
I say—that, as soon as the crowd was gone,
And never a face remain'd in sight,
As the tapers were brightening in chapels dim,
Just about the time of the coming on
And settling down of the ghostly light,
The sudden silence so startled him
That the dead Pope rose up.