The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Millennium.

Non piaccia a Dio. Nay, God forbid that mid these tragic throes To idle comedy my thought should bend, When torments dire and warning woes portend Of this our world the instantaneous close! The day approaches which shall discompose All earthly sects, the elements shall blend In utter ruin, and with joy shall send Just spirits to their spheres in heaven's repose. The Highest comes in Holy Land to hold His sovran court and synod sanctified, As all the psalms and prophets have foretold: The riches of his grace He will spread wide Through his own realm, that seat and chosen fold Of worship and free mercies multiplied.