Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/201

195 With a monk's rope, like Luther? or pursue The goat, like Tell? or dry his nets in haste, Like Masaniello when the sky was blue? Keep house like any peasant, with inlaced, Bare, brawny arms about his favourite child, And meditative looks beyond the door.— (But not to mark the kidling's teeth have filed The green shoots of his vine which last year bore Full twenty bunches;) or, on triple-piled Throne-velvets, shall we see him bless the poor. Like any Pontiff, in the Poorest's name,— While the tiara holds itself aslope Upon his steady brows, which, all the same, Bend mildly to permit the people's hope?

Whatever hand shall grasp this oriflamme, Whatever man (last peasant or first Pope Seeking to free his country!) shall appear, Teach, lead, strike fire into the masses, fill These empty bladders with fine air, insphere These wills into a unity of will. And make of Italy a nation—dear And blessed be that man! the Heavens shall kill No leaf the earth shall grow for him; and Death Shall cast him back upon the lap of Life, To live more surely, in a clarion-breath Of hero-music! Brutus, with the knife, Rienzi, with the fasces, throb beneath Rome's stones; and more, who threw away joy's fife Like Pallas, that the beauty of their souls Might ever shine untroubled and entire! But if it can be true that he who rolls The Church's thunders will reserve her fire