University of Virginia Library

XI. SAINTS BY PIETRO PERUGINO.

Glory to God of all fair things the maker
For that He dwelleth in the mind of Man!
Glory to Man of that large grace partaker
For that he storeth thus his spirit's span
With shapes our earth creates not, neither can,
Till, like a flood, her vanished youth o'ertake her,
And heaven's ‘New Song’ to loftier labours wake her,
High artist then, as now poor artisan.
Mark, mark those awful sons of Martyrdom,
With their uplifted hands, but eyes down-cast.
As though the uncreated light had dazed them:—
The error of our brief existence past
They stand like Saints resurgent from the tomb,
Suspended still on that great Voice which raised them!