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125

52

[Unto the central height of purple Rome,—]

Unto the central height of purple Rome,—
The crown of martyrdom,
Set as a heart within the passionate plain
Of triumph and of pain,
Where common roses in their blow and bud
Speak empire and show blood—
From colourless flowers and from breasts that burn.
Mother! to thee we turn.
The phantom light before thee flees and faints,
O City of the Saints!
In whom, with palms and wounds, there tarrieth
The unconquerable faith;
Where, as on Carmel, our Elijah stands
Above the faithless lands;
But conscious of earth's evening, not of them,
Lifts toward Jerusalem,
Where is the altar of High Sacrifice,
His full prophetic eyes. . . .
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