Silence, oppressive with darkness, held durance; Death in the living, or living in death; Crouched on the granite, and burdened with fetters, Inhaling slow poison with each labored breath.
O’er the damp floor of his dungeon there glistened Faintly the rays of a swift-nearing light; Then the sweet jingle of keys, that soon opened The door, and revealed a strange scene to his sight.
In the red glare of the flickering torches, Held by the gray-gowned soldiers of God, Gathered a group that the world will remember Long ages after we sleep ’neath the sod.
Draped in their robes of bright scarlet and purple, Bearing aloft the gold emblems of Rome, Stood the chief priests of the papal dominion, Under the shadow of Peter’s proud dome,
By the infallible pontiff commanded, From his own lips their directions received; Sent to demand of the wise Galileo Denial of all the great truths he believed,—
Before the whole world to give up his convictions, Because the great church said the world had not moved; Then to swear, before God, that his science was idle, And truth was unknown to the facts he had proved.