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Updated: May 6, 2025
Lo the curse of the world cometh hither; for the men that we took in the land Said thus, that their host is gathering with many an ordered band To fall on the wild-wood passes and flood the lovely Mark, As the river over the meadows upriseth in the dark. Look to it, O ye kindred! availeth now no word But the voice of the clashing of iron, and the sword-blade on the sword."
Well can the wise poet of Florence, That Dante highte, speak of this sentence; Lo, in such manner of rhyme is Dante's tale: "Seldom upriseth by its branches small Prowess of man; for God of His prowess Wills that we claim of Him our gentleness; For of our ancestors we no thing claim But temporal thing, that men may hurt and maim."
"And where she resteth, evermore one constant song they raise Of 'Holy, holy, so that now I know not if she prays; "But for the voice of praise in Heaven, a voice of Prayer hath gone From Earth; thy name upriseth now no more; pray on, pray on!" The following may serve as a specimen of the writer's lighter, half- playful strain of moralizing:
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