Near Rome, In Sight Of St. Peter’S

Long has the dew been dried on tree and lawn; O’er man and beast a not unwelcome boon Is shed, the languor of approaching noon; To shady rest withdrawing or withdrawn Mute are all creatures, as this couchant fawn, Save insect-swarms that hum in air afloat, Save that the Cock is crowing, a shrill note, Startling and shrill as that which roused the dawn. --Heard in that hour, or when, as now, the nerve Shrinks from the note as from a mis-timed thing, Oft for a holy warning may it serve, Charged with remembrance of his sudden sting, His bitter tears, whose name the Papal Chair And yon resplendent Church are proud to bear.

1845.

They--who have heard thy lettered sages treat

1842.

1845.

… voice …

1842.