Yes, when over Rome he stood there
In that high, historic clearness,
And his eye the mountain-ridges
Followed toward the red of evening,--
Then all beams of longing focused
In a blessed intuition,
And -- he saw a church before him
Greater far than that of nature,
And he felt a peace descending,
Larger far than all the present.
When the second time he came there,
After days and nights of labor,
Hard as were it for redemption,--
Then the Lord Himself gave welcome,
Led him gently thither, saying:
"Peace be with thee! Thou hast conquered!"
But to us with sorrow stricken
Turned the Lord with comfort, saying:
"When _I_ call, who then dares murmur,
That the called man had not finished?"
Whoso dies, he here had finished!
Spite our sorrow we believe it,
Hold that He, who unrest giveth
(The discoverer's disquiet,
That drove Newton, drove Columbus),
Also knows when rest is needed.
But we question, while reviewing
All that mighty thought-armada
Now disbanded, home-returning:
Who again shall reunite it?
For when _he_ cut his war-arrow,
Lords and liegemen soon were mustered,
And to aid from Sweden, Denmark,
England, France, swift-flying vessels
Coursed the sea-ways toward his standard.
Royal was that fleet and mighty,
By our shore at anchor lying;
We were wont to see it near us
Or to hear the wondrous tidings
Of its cruises and its conquests.
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