The Monument of Giordano Bruno

I     Not from without us, only from within,     Comes or can ever come upon us light     Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight.     No truth, no strength, no comfort man may win,     No grace for guidance, no release from sin,     Save of his own soul's giving. Deep and bright     As fire enkindled in the core of night     Burns in the soul where once its fire has been     The light that leads and quickens thought, inspired     To doubt and trust and conquer. So he said     Whom Sidney, flower of England, lordliest head     Of all we love, loved: but the fates required     A sacrifice to hate and hell, ere fame     Should set with his in heaven Giordano's name. II     Cover thine eyes and weep, O child of hell,     Grey spouse of Satan, Church of name abhorred.     Weep, withered harlot, with thy weeping lord,     Now none will buy the heaven thou hast to sell     At price of prostituted souls, and swell     Thy loveless list of lovers. Fire and sword     No more are thine: the steel, the wheel, the cord,     The flames that rose round living limbs, and fell     In lifeless ash and ember, now no more     Approve thee godlike. Rome, redeemed at last     From all the red pollution of thy past,     Acclaims the grave bright face that smiled of yore     Even on the fire that caught it round and clomb     To cast its ashes on the face of Rome.