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101
VESPERS.
TRINITA DE' MONTI, ROME.
Arise! the sun-clouds warn us it is time.
The door swings open, let us enter here
Up the steep steps with noiseless foot we climb,
As if they led to some celestial sphere.
The door swings open, let us enter here
Up the steep steps with noiseless foot we climb,
As if they led to some celestial sphere.
Listen! the nuns are gliding in unseen;
And now begins the low, heart-melting strain.
Your tears are falling,—let them fall,—nor screen
From me your eyes; I know that sad, sweet pain.
And now begins the low, heart-melting strain.
Your tears are falling,—let them fall,—nor screen
From me your eyes; I know that sad, sweet pain.
Again that solemn penitential wail!
Your clasped hands tremble;—now the voices die.
Let us go hence; your quivering lips turn pale;
Hushed is the hymn so like an angel's sigh.
Your clasped hands tremble;—now the voices die.
Let us go hence; your quivering lips turn pale;
Hushed is the hymn so like an angel's sigh.
102
The day is fled; these walls are not our home;
Forth in the breeze of evening let us stand.
Come! lean on me as we descend to Rome,
From what has seemed the angels' spirit-land!
Forth in the breeze of evening let us stand.
Come! lean on me as we descend to Rome,
From what has seemed the angels' spirit-land!
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