Go out to meet him who on his white cloud
    Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow. 
Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud
    Blare of God’s lifted angel-trumpets!  Lo,
    The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight!

XLVI.

THE YEAR 1603.

Gia sto mirando.

The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend
    Upon the seventh and ninth centenary,
    When in the Archer’s realm three years shall be
    Added, this aeon and our age to end. 
Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend
    Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree,
    Stored in the archives of eternity,
    And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend. 
O’er Europe’s full meridian on thy morn
    In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold: 
    The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn. 
God grant that I may keep this mortal breath
    Until I too that glorious day behold
    Which shall at last confound the sons of death!

XLVII.

NEBUCHADNEZZAR’S IMAGE.

Babel disfatta.

The golden head was Babylon; she passed: 
    Persia came next, the silvern breast:  whereto
    Joined brazen flank and belly—­these are you,
    Ye men of Macedon!  Now Rome’s the last. 
Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast;
    But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew
    Downfall:  those scattered tribes erewhile she knew
    For lords; now ’neath her fatal sway they’re cast. 
Ah thirsty soil!  From your parched fallow fumes
    A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty,
    That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes! 
To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse
    Your rebel sense; for it is still your use
    To screen yourself with lies and sophistry.

XLVIII.

THE DUNGEON.

Come va al centro.

As to the centre all things that have weight
    Sink from the surface:  as the silly mouse
    Runs at a venture, rash though timorous,
    Into the monster’s jaws to meet her fate: 
Thus all who love high Science, from the strait
    Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us
    Into Truth’s ocean, bold and amorous,
    Must in our haven anchor soon or late. 
One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme,
    And one Atlante’s Palace, one of Crete
    The Labyrinth, and one Hell’s lowest pit. 
Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream
    In this dread place.  Nought but fear dwells in it,
    Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat.

XLIX.

THE SAGE ON EARTH.

Sciolto e legato.