The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Future.

Veggo in candida robba.


Clothed in white robes I see the Holy Sire
        Descend to hold his court amid the band
        Of shining saints and elders: at his hand
        The white immortal Lamb commands their choir.
John ends his long lament for torments dire,
        Now Judah's lion rises to expand
        The fatal book, and the first broken band
        Sends the white courier forth to work God's ire.
The first fair spirits raimented in white
        Go out to meet him who on his white cloud
        Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow.
Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud
        Blare of God's lifted angel-trumpets! Lo,
        The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight!