And from the savage Urals to the plain A new barbarian folk shall send alarms, The coast of Agenorean Thebes again Be waked with sound of chariots and of arms; And Rome shall fall; and Tiber's current drain The nameless lands of long deserted farms: But thou like Hercules shalt still remain, Untouched by fiery Etna's deadly charms; And with thy youthful temples, laurel-crowned, Shalt rise to the eternal Form's embrace Whose unveiled smile all earliest was thine; And till the Alps to gulfing sea give place, By Latin shore or on Achæan ground, Like heaven's sun shalt thou, O Homer, shine! IN A GOTHIC CHURCH From the 'Poesie' They rise aloft, marching in awful file, The polished shafts immense of marble gray, And in the sacred darkness seem to be An army of giants Who wage a war with the invisible; The silent arches soar and spring apart In distant flight, then re-embrace again And droop on high. So in the discord of unhappy men, From out their barbarous tumult there go up To God the sighs of solitary souls In Him united. Of you I ask no God, ye marble shafts, Ye airy vaults! I tremble--but I watch To hear a dainty well-known footstep waken The solemn echoes. 'Tis Lidia, and she turns, and slowly turning, Her tresses full of light reveal themselves, And love is shining from a pale shy face Behind the veil. ON THE SIXTH CENTENARY OF DANTE From the 'Levia Gravia' I saw him, from the uncovered tomb uplifting His mighty form, the imperial prophet stand. Then shook the Adrian shore, and all the land Italia trembled as at an earthquake drifting. Like morning mist from purest ether sifting, It marched along the Apenninian strand, Glancing adown the vales on either hand, Then vanished like the dawn to daylight shifting. Meanwhile in earthly hearts a fear did rise, The awful presence of a god discerning, To which no mortal dared to lift the eyes. But where beyond the gates the sun is burning, The races dead of warlike men and wise With joy saluted the great soul's returning. THE OX From the 'Poesie' I love thee, pious ox; a gentle feeling Of vigor and of peace thou giv'st my heart. How solemn, like a monument, thou art! Over wide fertile fields thy calm gaze stealing, Unto the yoke with grave contentment kneeling, To man's quick work thou dost thy strength impart. He shouts and goads, and answering thy smart, Thou turn'st on him thy patient eyes appealing. From thy broad nostrils, black and wet, arise Thy breath's soft fumes; and on the still air swells, Like happy hymn, thy lowing's mellow strain. In the grave sweetness of thy tranquil eyes Of emerald, broad and still reflected dwells All the divine green silence of the plain. DANTE From the 'Levia Gravia'