one man’s lyre
      Gave all their echoes voice;
      Bade rose-cheeked love rejoice,
  And cold-lipped craft with ravenous fear conspire,
      And fire-eyed faith smite hope
      Dead, seeing enthroned as Pope
  And crowned of heaven on earth at hell’s desire
    Sin, called by death’s incestuous name
Borgia:  the world that heard it flushed and quailed with shame.

XVI.

Another year, and hope triumphant heard
  The consummating sound of song that spake
Conclusion to the multitudinous word
  Whose expectation held her spirit awake
Till full delight for twice twelve years deferred
  Bade all souls entering eat and drink, and take
A third time comfort given them, that the third
  Might heap the measure up of twain, and make
      The sinking year sublime
      Among all sons of time
  And fan in all men’s memories for his sake. 
      Each thought of ours became
      Fire, kindling from his flame,
  And music widening in his wide song’s wake. 
    Yea, and the world bore witness here
How great a light was risen upon this darkening year.

XVII.

It was the dawn of winter:  sword in sheath,
  Change, veiled and mild, came down the gradual air
With cold slow smiles that hid the doom beneath. 
  Five days to die in yet were autumn’s, ere
The last leaf withered from his flowerless wreath. 
  South, east, and north, our skies were all blown bare,
But westward over glimmering holt and heath
  Cloud, wind, and light had made a heaven more fair
      Than ever dream or truth
      Showed earth in time’s keen youth
  When men with angels communed unaware. 
      Above the sun’s head, now
      Veiled even to the ardent brow,
  Rose two sheer wings of sundering cloud, that were
    As a bird’s poised for vehement flight,
Full-fledged with plumes of tawny fire and hoar grey light.

XVIII.

As midnight black, as twilight brown, they spread,
  But feathered thick with flame that streaked and lined
Their living darkness, ominous else of dread,
  From south to northmost verge of heaven inclined
Most like some giant angel’s, whose bent head
  Bowed earthward, as with message for mankind
Of doom or benediction to be shed
  From passage of his presence.  Far behind,
      Even while they seemed to close,
      Stoop, and take flight, arose
  Above them, higher than heavenliest thought may find
      In light or night supreme
      Of vision or of dream,
  Immeasurable of men’s eyes or mounting mind,
    Heaven, manifest in manifold
Light of pure pallid amber, cheered with fire of gold.

XIX.