This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1872 edition. Excerpt: ... III. THE OTHER HALF-ROME. Another day that finds her living yet, Little Pompilia, with the patient brow And lamentable ...Read MoreThis historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1872 edition. Excerpt: ... III. THE OTHER HALF-ROME. Another day that finds her living yet, Little Pompilia, with the patient brow And lamentable smile on those poor lips, And, under the white hospital-array, A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise 5 You 'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again, Alive i' the ruins. 'Tis a miracle. It seems that, when her husband struck her first, She prayed Madonna just that she might live So long as to confess and be absolved; 10 And whether it was that, all her sad life long Never before successful in a prayer, This prayer rose with authority too dread, -- Or whether, because earth was hell to her, By compensation, when the blackness broke 15 She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue, To show her for a moment such things were, -- Or else, --as the Augustinian Brother thinks, The friar who took confession from her lip, -- When a probationary soul that moves 20 From nobleness to nobleness, as she, Over the rough way of the world, succumbs, Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot, The angels love to do their work betimes, Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God. 25 Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved, She lies, with overplus of life beside To speak and right herself from first to last, Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave, Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son 30 From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus, And--with best smile of all reserved for him-- Pardon that sire and husband from the heart. A miracle, so tell your Molinists! There she lies in the long white lazar-house. 35 Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt, Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge When the reluctant wicket opes at lastRead Less
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