Divina Commedia

I.Written March 29, 1864.1.
    Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
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     A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
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     Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet
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     Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor
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   Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;
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     Far off the noises of the world retreat;
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     The loud vociferations of the street
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     Become an undistinguishable roar.
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   So, as I enter here from day to day,
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    And leave my burden at this minster gate,
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    Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray,
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  The tumult of the time disconsolate
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    To inarticulate murmurs dies away,
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    While the eternal ages watch and wait.II.2.
   How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!
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     This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves
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     Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves
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     Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers,
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   And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!
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     But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves
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     Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves,
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     And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers!
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   Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain,
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    What exultations trampling on despair,
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    What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong,
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  What passionate outcry of a soul in pain,
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    Uprose this poem of the earth and air,
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    This mediæval miracle of song!
III.Written December 22, 1865.3.
   I enter, and I see thee in the gloom
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     Of the long aisles, O poet saturnine!
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     And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine.
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     The air is filled with some unknown perfume;
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   The congregation of the dead make room
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     For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine;
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     Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine
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     The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb.
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   From the confessionals I hear arise
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    Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies,
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    And lamentations from the crypts below;
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  And then a voice celestial that begins
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    With the pathetic words, "Although your sins
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    As scarlet be," and ends with "as the snow."
IV.Written May 5, 1867.4.
   With snow-white veil and garments as of flame,
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     She stands before thee, who so long ago
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     Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe
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     From which thy song and all its splendors came;
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   And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name,
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     The ice about thy heart melts as the snow
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     On mountain heights, and in swift overflow
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     Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame.
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   Thou makest full confession; and a gleam,
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    As of the dawn on some dark forest cast,
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    Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase;
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  Lethe and Eunoë -- the remembered dream
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    And the forgotten sorrow -- bring at last
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    That perfect pardon which is perfect peace.
V.Written January 16, 1866.5.
   I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze
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     With forms of Saints and holy men who died,
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     Here martyred and hereafter glorified;
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     And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
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   Christ's Triumph, and the angelic roundelays,
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     With splendor upon splendor multiplied;
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     And Beatrice again at Dante's side
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     No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise.
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   And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs
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    Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love
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    And benedictions of the Holy Ghost;
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  And the melodious bells among the spires
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    O'er all the house-tops and through heaven above
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    Proclaim the elevation of the Host!
VI.Written March 7, 1866.6.
   O star of morning and of liberty!
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     O bringer of the light, whose splendor shines
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     Above the darkness of the Apennines,
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     Forerunner of the day that is to be!
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   The voices of the city and the sea,
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     The voices of the mountains and the pines,
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     Repeat thy song, till the familiar lines
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     Are footpaths for the thought of Italy!
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   Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights,
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