Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/182

176 When men make reoord, with the flowers they strew, "Savonarola's soul went out in fire Upon our Grand-duke's piazza, and burned through A moment first, or ere he did expire, The veil betwixt the right and wrong, and showed How near God sate and judged the judges there,—" Desire, upon the pavement ovenstrewed, To cast my violets with as reverent care, And prove that all the winters which have snowed Cannot snow out the scent, from stones and air, Of a sincere man's virtues. This was he, Savonarola, who, while Peter sank With his whole boat-load, called courageously "Wake Christ, wake Christ!"—who, having tried the tank Of the church-waters used for baptistry Ere Luther lived to spill them, said they stank! Who also, by a princely deathbed, cried "Loose Florence, or God will not loose thy soul," While the Magnificent fell back and died Beneath the star-looks, shooting from the cowl, Which turned to wormwood bitterness the wide Deep sea of his ambitions. It were foul To grudge Savonarola and the rest Their violets! rather pay them quick and fresh! The emphasis of death makes manifest The eloquence of action in our flesh; And men who, living, were but dimly guessed, When once free from their life's entangled mesh,