I have not time to tell you, today, about my late interview with the Pope.
As might be anticipated, the poem is in the heroic measure of Pope.
To Pope's corrections, which Garth adopted, Mason had added a comment.
Napoleon was neither boy nor man, patron, king, nor pope; he was Napoleon!
The pope of to-morrow is chosen up in heaven, eh, and simply waits?
His first thought was that he would see the Pope that evening at nine o'clock.
And what could be easier, since the Pope commanded millions of Catholics?
As he had said to Monsignor Fornaro, could the Pope disavow him?
And on the Pope's side there was not a word, not a gesture, not a movement.
Beside it is the cushion on which the Pope rests his foot in order that it may be kissed.
