a living picture seen in via felice, rome.
59
I feel, as gazing thus upon thy face,
From the low darkness of the sordid street,
As when, revealed amid th' ethereal space,
The saints of old beheld Madonna sweet,
To comfort and to soothe, a glimpse of heaven,
Foretaste and type of bliss, to them was given.
Less happy I—the heaven where I would soar
To me is closed—rejected, I adore,
And, vainly true, my fruitless worship pour!
From the low darkness of the sordid street,
As when, revealed amid th' ethereal space,
The saints of old beheld Madonna sweet,
To comfort and to soothe, a glimpse of heaven,
Foretaste and type of bliss, to them was given.
Less happy I—the heaven where I would soar
To me is closed—rejected, I adore,
And, vainly true, my fruitless worship pour!
