Superbly still they vaunt their ancient pride,
Those lofty eyries of old Italy
That ruled the land when Francis lived and died,
Glorious in might, erect, and fair to see.
Perugia’s portals and Siena’s towers,
And dear Assisi’s walls that shine afar,
What seem they to this distant age of ours?—
Lairs of fierce men that took delight in war.
Yet, while we deprecate, our Europe groans
Beneath her armaments the livelong day;
Her peoples cry for bread—we give them stones,
And crush and curse with mailèd peace alway;
And still to Moloch babes are sacrificed
By men that call upon the name of Christ.