PROPHET V IRGIL ! thou,
White, and sweet, and stern:
Dante's Master! now
Tell us: may we learn
More than he, whose brow
Bare that dread brand, set there, thou knowest how!
Tremendous to discern?

Nothing more! And yet,
This thing more know we:
That thy throne is set
High, where high Saints be.
Thy song soaring met
David's, Isaiah's: how should God forget,
O thou His prophet! thee?