Unmoved the cloisters and religious aisles
Where Milton lies, renowned with “prophets old,”
And honoured Newton, to whom the starred vault
Is an enduring monument, as much
As the Pantheon’s dome is Angelo’s?
What is the pride of kings, the world’s vain splendour,
To such a presence as they witnessed there
Who disinterred the bones of Raphael,
Awful from the repose of centuries?
There stood that day a solemn, anxious crowd