THE AGES. 25 XX. They triumphed, and less bloody rites were kept The well-fed inmates pattered prayer, and slept, Sheltering dark orgies that were shame to tell, And cowled and barefoot beggars swarmed the way, All in their convent weeds, of black, and white, and gray. XXI. Oh, sweetly the returning muses' strain Swelled over that famed stream, whose gentle tide Sweet, as when winter storms have ceased to chide, Send out wild hymns upon the scented air. Lo! to the smiling Arno's classic side The emulous nations of the west repair, And kindle their quenched urns, and drink fresh spirit there. XXII. Still, Heaven deferred the hour ordained to rend From saintly rottenness the sacred stole ; And cowl and worshipped shrine could still defend The wretch with felon stains upon his soul; C And crimes were set to sale, and hard his dole Shielded by priestly power, and watched by priestly eyes. XXIII. At last the earthquake came-the shock, that hurled XXIV. The spirit of that day is still awake, And spreads himself, and shall not sleep again; But through the idle mesh of power shall break Like billows o'er the Asian monarch's chain; Till men are filled with him, and feel how vain, Instead of the pure heart and innocent hands, Are all the proud and pompous modes to gain The smile of heaven;-till a new age expands Its white and holy wings above the peaceful lands. |