Classic Poem

Most pious Doctor, learned Hermit, sun
O erudition in an early age,
The Sovereign Pontiff called thee, desert sage,
To labour till a giant's task was done.

Whether frequented or retired alone,
Or pondering the knotted Hebrew page,
None ever found thee loiter to engage
The rash assailants of Saint Peter's Throne.

Little they thought who gave thy Lord a reed,
He dumb and meek and not resisting them,
That thou would'st fashion it to make afraid
His foes, thou Michael of the pen indeed.
Come to the end, alert and undismayed,
Thy valiant soul took flight from Bethlehem.