_THE FUTURE._

_Veggo in candida robba._

Clothed in white robes I see the Holy Sire
Descend to hold his court amid the band
Of shining saints and elders: at his hand
The white immortal Lamb commands their choir.
John ends his long lament for torments dire,
Now Judah's lion rises to expand
The fatal book, and the first broken band
Sends the white courier forth to work God's ire.
The first fair spirits raimented in white
Go out to meet him who on his white cloud
Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow.
Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud
Blare of God's lifted angel-trumpets! Lo,
The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight!

XLVI.

_THE YEAR 1603._

_Gia sto mirando._

The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend
Upon the seventh and ninth centenary,
When in the Archer's realm three years shall be
Added, this aeon and our age to end.
Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend
Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree,
Stored in the archives of eternity,
And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend.
O'er Europe's full meridian on thy morn
In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold:
The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn.
God grant that I may keep this mortal breath
Until I too that glorious day behold
Which shall at last confound the sons of death!

XLVII.

_NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S IMAGE._

_Babel disfatta._

The golden head was Babylon; she passed:
Persia came next, the silvern breast: whereto
Joined brazen flank and belly--these are you,
Ye men of Macedon! Now Rome's the last.
Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast;
But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew
Downfall: those scattered tribes erewhile she knew
For lords; now 'neath her fatal sway they're cast.
Ah thirsty soil! From your parched fallow fumes
A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty,
That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes!
To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse
Your rebel sense; for it is still your use
To screen yourself with lies and sophistry.

XLVIII.

_THE DUNGEON._

_Come va al centro._

As to the centre all things that have weight
Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse
Runs at a venture, rash though timorous,
Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate:
Thus all who love high Science, from the strait
Dead sea of Sophistry sa