Something for every body :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thou there! but yesterday the cloister's cell
Echoed thy groans, and thy crushed spirit fell
E'en at a zephyr's breath!
Thou there alone against the world! O sight
For angels! Lo! thy weakness chang'd to might
That braves all forms of death,
And bids defiance unto Hell! God's power,
O man of faith! doth help thee in this hour.
Yes! there thou art! Awe-struck the gods, intent,
Both sceptered king and mitred priest are bent
Tow'rd thee with steadfast gaze!
'Tis Heaven's own grandeur stamped upon that brow,
That shames all pride and pomp of pageant now.
So looked men at the rays
From prophet's unveiled face, till at the sight
Appalled they fled, blind with celestial light.
What though the mighty ones are sworn and met,
With vengeful soul, an empty seal to set
On thine eternal fate?
What though is broke the hush of solemn spell
By muttered threat and curse of earth and hell,
And taunt of scorn and hate?
Thou moveless art, mid storm of fiercest ire,
As that famed rock that bears the beacon fire.
Vain hope! to weave for thee the darkest maze
Of cunning toils. Thou walkest mid full blaze
That streams from upper throne.
No lure to thee is bribe of rank and gold;
Like Him to whom long since by tempter bold
This world's whole pomp was shown,
Due price for homage done, stern dost thou say
To timid friends and treacherous foes—Away!

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Stand deathless on thy lofty mountain height—
A glory sent our lower world to light,
Till heaven and earth are past!
Ever thy words shall stir the deep profound
Of inmost soul, and bid the bosom bound
With thought for speech too vast!
O Rome! for thee that voice has mystic tone
With this prophetic knell—“Fall'n is thy throne!”