TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes, Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, Like Farinata from his fiery tomb. Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relume! Methinks I see thee stand with pallid cheeks By Fra Hilario in his diocese, As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, Thy voice along the cloister whispers "Peace!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 1 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS OUR PASSWORD by ISIDORE G. ASCHER ELECTRIC LIGHT-VERSE by L. ALLEN BECK PSALMS OF THE SEA: THE CONVERT by EVERETT BOSTON THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: DESIRE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |