Poems, with The Ballad of Reading Gaol. Оскар Уайльд

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Poems, with The Ballad of Reading Gaol - Оскар Уайльд

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pines

       That break the gold of Arno’s stream,

       To see the purple mist and gleam

       Of morning on the Apennines

      By many a vineyard-hidden home,

       Orchard and olive-garden grey,

       Till from the drear Campagna’s way

       The seven hills bear up the dome!

      III.

      A pilgrim from the northern seas—

       What joy for me to seek alone

       The wondrous temple and the throne

       Of him who holds the awful keys!

      When, bright with purple and with gold

       Come priest and holy cardinal,

       And borne above the heads of all

       The gentle Shepherd of the Fold.

      O joy to see before I die

       The only God-anointed king,

       And hear the silver trumpets ring

       A triumph as he passes by!

      Or at the brazen-pillared shrine

       Holds high the mystic sacrifice,

       And shows his God to human eyes

       Beneath the veil of bread and wine.

      IV.

      For lo, what changes time can bring!

       The cycles of revolving years

       May free my heart from all its fears,

       And teach my lips a song to sing.

      Before yon field of trembling gold

       Is garnered into dusty sheaves,

       Or ere the autumn’s scarlet leaves

       Flutter as birds adown the wold,

      I may have run the glorious race,

       And caught the torch while yet aflame,

       And called upon the holy name

       Of Him who now doth hide His face.

      Arona.

      URBS SACRA ÆTERNA

      Rome! what a scroll of History thine has been;

       In the first days thy sword republican

       Ruled the whole world for many an age’s span:

       Then of the peoples wert thou royal Queen,

       Till in thy streets the bearded Goth was seen;

       And now upon thy walls the breezes fan

       (Ah, city crowned by God, discrowned by man!)

       The hated flag of red and white and green.

       When was thy glory! when in search for power

       Thine eagles flew to greet the double sun,

       And the wild nations shuddered at thy rod?

       Nay, but thy glory tarried for this hour,

       When pilgrims kneel before the Holy One,

       The prisoned shepherd of the Church of God.

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