XXXVI.

For a triumphant spirit seems pervading;

A joyousness floats round it like the wind:
All air, all light, and decked in hues unfading;
The work found worthy of the end designed.
As if it were the embodying forth of Mind,
Prophetic of its future hope and trust,

Of that bright throne which is in heaven enshrined;
Where kneel the souls made perfect of the Just;

Where thou shalt soar when sinks this haughty Dome

to dust!

XXXVII.

The Sun shone down the enormous Area, seeming

The hallowing smile of God upon his own
All-glorious Altar in the distance gleaming!
While, in long order, giant arches thrown
From Alp-like columns, span, as with a zone,
O'er naves, revealing on each side, new shrines,
Domes, altars, martyrs, saints, in breathing stone:
Rainbow hued marbles, where mosaic shines,

And tombs where prostrate Kings made faith's most

contrite signs.

XXXVIII.

There-while thou lean'st on that bronze Altar's base,

Thy worship shall be thy humility!

Feeling as nothing in the absorbing space,

'Midst the vast grandeur that deceives the eye,

Which feebly grows to its immensity.

Who talks 'mid Nature's mountain Solitudes,

Or when he gazes on the starry Sky?—

So here thy mind absorbed, in silence broods

O'er forms embodied forth from its least earthly moods.

XXXIX.

Look up-behold the pride, the boast of Rome !

Orbed as the world, and floating, as on air,

In dazzling light expands the mighty Dome:

Mirror of Heaven,-but Heaven when she doth wear

All galaxied with Stars her flashing hair!

Saints, cherubs, prophets, hierarchs are shown

Into beatitude ascending there,

Where, centering to a point, enshrined alone,

The Ineffable revealed sits on his crowning throne!

Oh! how the truth the exulting bosom swells:How Mind can make the mind immortal here!

Yet, gaze beneath :-what baser spirit dwells

In these fanatic slaves, who, kneeling near, Cringe to the dust in superstitious fear: Still, worshippers of wood and stone they kneel, As if the bronze could look, the marble, hear: As if a kiss could wounded conscience heal; Or wash away the past, or faith or hope reveal.

XLI.

Idolaters and Slaves! would ye impart

Peace to yourselves, the peace which cannot fade?

That feeling can spring only from the heart!

The oracle which warns ye, unobeyed,

Of that immortal temple which God made,

Not built by human hands; cleanse that, nor vain,

As now, shall your dull orisons be paid;

Remorse, not penance, shall remove the stain

Of sins that, still indulged, corroding there remain.

K 6

The crowds within the Sistine Halls are still:

Hark-how the full choir swells sublimely there!

The Saviour sacrificed to human will:

The Prophet's lamentations, and despair;

The sweat of blood wrung forth from intense prayer, The immortal with the mortal now at strife,

When Angels came from heav'n the cross to bear; The penance, death, the prize, immortal life;

Such are the solemn themes with which those strains

are rife!

XLIII.

Behold the Lights extinguished one by one;
As, in that hour, the Apostles fell from Him,
Their Guide-when all was to be lost or won:
Look up while peals that awful requiem!
See how yon pictured Prophets in the dim
Obscure, frown downwards; the last Judgment-Day
Gleams, life-like, on the walls: ye hear the hymn

Of the saved souls, and the voiced trumpet say,

"Awake-lo, Earth and Heaven doth, scroll-like, pass away!"

XLIV.

Lo-pictured there, the Maker and the world
Rolled into space before him like a ball,
And Darkness back to furthest Chaos hurled;
There-man arises from the prisoning thrall
Of the red earth; how doth his front recal,
And open face full looking on his God,

His god-like innocence! lo-source of all

Love, beauty, grace, how, bounding from the sod, The elastic form of Eve, by reverence o'erawed,

XLV.

Bends her fair head, and from her God withdraws

Her downcast eyes in meek submissive fear;
She feels her thrilling life, nor asks the cause,
Enough to know that whom she loves is near!
Behold-how round the sculptured roof appear
The giant Prophets wrapt in thought profound,
Or holiest communings: ye almost hear

His revelations, who with glory crowned,

Bent o'er the sybil-scrolls his Saviour-King hath found.