Explore "Dante" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, / With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes, / Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, / Like Farinata from his fiery tomb. / Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; / Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, / What soft compassion glows, as in the skies / The tender stars their clouded lamps relume! / Methinks I see thee stand, with pallid cheeks, / By Fra Hilario in his diocese, / As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, / The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; / And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, / Thy voice along the cloister whispers, "Peace! "