made things good and evil to tell their tale through him the fatal prophet;
against whose Gothic sphere Carducci's Hellenic spirit continually fretted and rebelled. Yet his soul is ever thrilled (see the Sonnet on the Sixth Centenary of Dante [XXXIV]) with awe at the reappearing of that “mighty Form,”
when shook the Adrian shore and all the land Italia trembled,
which,
like a morning mist
Did march along the Apenninian strand,
Glancing adown the vales on either hand,
Then vanished like the dawn;
while “in earthly hearts a fear arose, discovering the awful presence of a God,” and there,
where, beyond the gates, the sun is burning,