Classic Poem

Infant — noble infant — sleep,
While this midnight heaven I sweep.
O'er thee burn a trine of stars,
Jove the sovereign, fire-eyed Mars,
Venus, with the diamond beam.
Babe, thou 'lt wear the diadem,
Wield the victor sword, and win
Woman more than half divine.
On this pure and pencil'd brow
Latent bursts of lightning glow.
Haughty Venice shall be bow'd
When they rend the thunder cloud.
Eloquence is on thy lip,
Now, like roses when they dip
Their budding crimson in the dew;
But, when time shall change its hue,
Law, and truth, and liberty
On its paler pomp shall lie.
What is magic's mightiest wand
To the sceptre in this hand?
Florence, city of the dead!
Cast the ashes from thy head,
At its touch the palm shall bloom
On thy solitary tomb.
Sea! that hear'st the dreary gale
O'er thy lonely billows wail,
When in strength this hand is raised,
Thou shalt wear a crown emblazed;
Gold and glory from the East
Shall on thy green forehead rest,
At thy feet the banners riven
Mark thy foes, the foes of Heaven.
Grave! where ancient genius lies,
What shall bid thy slumberers rise?
Glorious Infant! thou shalt stand,
Sending down thy summons grand
Through its depths, and they shall come
Brighter for the transient tomb.
In thy splendour, timid eye,
Crowns shall lose their majesty;
Dim before the soul enshrined,
The fiery sovereignty of mind.
Child of might, young miracle,
Sweet L ORENZO , fare thee well!