"E venni dal martirio a questa pace." These words the poet heard in Paradise, Uttered by one who, bravely dying here, In the true faith was living in that sphere Where the celestial cross of sacrifice Spread its protecting arms athwart the skies; And set thereon, like jewels crystal clear, The souls magnanimous, that knew not fear, Flashed their effulgence on his dazzled eyes. Ah me! how dark the discipline of pain, Were not the suffering followed by the sense Of infinite rest and infinite release! This is our consolation; and again A great soul cries to us in our suspense, "I came from martyrdom unto this peace!"
Return to the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow library , or . . . Read the next poem; Prometheus Or The Poet's Forethought