  LO, Crimean marble-quarries tower Colder even than snow-peaks in their power, To the very heart stone-white: And the Christian captives strain On the hillsides in their pain, As they toil for Trajan day and night. Who is this who comes with stirless brow, And sweet eyes that never could allow Rebels save upon their knees? Through the hills a voice is fanned That Pope Clement hath been banned Straightly to the marble Chersonese. Toiling with his people ’mid the rocks, On a streamless slope, the quarried blocks He compels to whiteness clear. There a bitter cry is made Of the thirst that, unallayed, Dreams of well, or freshet, or wide mere. He hath climbed to pray.... A lamb he sees, Pawing gladly in the mountain-breeze, Very golden unto snow: Lamb of God, cross-aureoled, Lovely on His vertex bold, Set above a River’s gush and flow. By the brazen footstroke is expressed Impetus as of God’s River blest. Dew and snow in all their shine Round that heavenly Lamb and Stream Take the lustre of their dream, In a flood and blush of flame combine. On the heavens, from Patmos’ shore, John beheld this crystal sight before— Not to bring a people aid; But, sweet Clement, thou hast seen, on earth God’s own Lamb, His River’s birth; How He shone and how its waters played! |
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