You know the story of my birth, the name
Which I inherited for good and ill,
The secret of my father's fame and shame,
...
Nor later, when with her my childhood died,
Was life less sealed to me. The Church became
My guardian next and mother deified,
...
The booths were shut. The Fair was at an end,
And the crowd gone with multitudinous feet
Noisily home, or lingering still to spend
...
The summer I had passed in my own fashion
High in the Alps, a proselyte to toil.
I was released and free, and spent my passion
...
I linger on the threshold of my youth.
If you could see me now as then I was,
A fair--faced frightened boy with eyes of truth
...
Where art thou, thou lost face,
Which, yet a little while, wert making mirth
At these new years which seemed too sad to be?
...
From Caiphas to Pilate I was sent,
Who judged with unwashed hands a crime to me.
Next came the sentence, and the soldiery
...
So in his agony at noon he came,
On the third day, to where without the walls
...
Nor were the rest astonished. Even he,
Natalia's lord, in all complacent grace
Looked on approving of her act when she
...
Oh, pitiful awaking! What was Adrian's pleasure,
That it had earned for him such bitterness?
What his soul's pride that its new tender measure
...