THERE was no Borgia venom; Gandia fell Under no sword of Caesar's; doubtless, so. And our cool judgements are content to know That such a marriage group of heaven and hell Was never throned within the Italian sell, Nor evil brimmed to such an overflow. But our magnificent dreams around the glow Of infinite wickedness compass still, where dwell Pomps of our own undared impossible sin, Tumultuously potent, marvellously beautiful; Where, in a superhuman mystery Of Christ and Lucifer, bearing those dire three, The Pope and the Pope's children, ramps within The fields of Christendom a Borgian bull. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MITHRIDATES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TWO WITCHES: 2. THE PAUPER WITCH OF GRAFTON by ROBERT FROST I, TOO by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES A SHORT SONG OF CONGRATULATION by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 78 by ALFRED TENNYSON WELCOME, LITTLE STRANGER (BY A DISPLACED THREE-YEAR-OLD) by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS SONG OF SOLOMON: AWAKE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE JERUSALEM; THE EMANATION OF THE GIANT ALBION: CHAPTER 1 by WILLIAM BLAKE |