Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE PROPHESIES TO ROME THE ADVENT OF SOME GREAT POPE-PALADIN WHO WILL RESTORE HER TO HER ANCIENT VIRTUE AND GLORY

Covetous Babylon, of Heaven so hated,
Has by her sins now drained the brimming flagon,
Her knees now bend to Baal and hideous Dagon,
Pallas and Jove are fouled and Bacchus fêted.
Though against hope I hope, though desecrated,
Yet shall another Priest-King slay the Dragon,
Smite the Gold Bull and break the garlanded Wagon,
Turn faith to God, to Rome turn re-created.
Her idols shall be shattered, in the dust
Her pompous Heaven-affronting turrets grovel,
Her wardens into flame and exile thrust:
Pure hearts from every palace, every hovel
Shall hold the earth in peace; it shall be made
All gold, its ancient works like flags displayed!