I

  Not from without us, only from within,
  Comes or can ever come upon us light
  Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight.
  No truth, no strength, no comfort man may win,
  No grace for guidance, no release from sin,
  Save of his own soul's giving. Deep and bright
  As fire enkindled in the core of night
  Burns in the soul where once its fire has been
  The light that leads and quickens thought, inspired
  To doubt and trust and conquer. So he said
  Whom Sidney, flower of England, lordliest head
  Of all we love, loved: but the fates required
  A sacrifice to hate and hell, ere fame
  Should set with his in heaven Giordano's name.


  II

  Cover thine eyes and weep, O child of hell,
  Grey spouse of Satan, Church of name abhorred.
  Weep, withered harlot, with thy weeping lord,
  Now none will buy the heaven thou hast to sell
  At price of prostituted souls, and swell
  Thy loveless list of lovers. Fire and sword
  No more are thine: the steel, the wheel, the cord,
  The flames that rose round living limbs, and fell
  In lifeless ash and ember, now no more
  Approve thee godlike. Rome, redeemed at last
  From all the red pollution of thy past,
  Acclaims the grave bright face that smiled of yore
  Even on the fire that caught it round and clomb
  To cast its ashes on the face of Rome.

June 9, 1889.