Within the broken Vatican The murdered Pope is lying dead. The soldiers of Valerian Their evil hands are wet and red. Unarmed, unmoved, St. Laurence waits, His cassock is his only mail. The troops of Hell have burst the gates, But Christ is Lord, He shall prevail. They have encompassed him with steel, They spit upon his gentle face, He smiles and bleeds, nor will reveal The Church's hidden treasure-place. Ah, faithful steward, worthy knight, Well hast thou done. Behold thy fee! Since thou hast fought the goodly fight A martyr's death is fixed for thee. St. Laurence, pray for us to bear The faith which glorifies thy name. St. Laurence, pray for us to share The wounds of Love's consuming flame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRAYERS by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN by THOMAS HARDY ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE: THE POWER OF MUSIC by SAMUEL LISLE MADONNA OF THE EVENING FLOWERS by AMY LOWELL TWO AT A FIRESIDE by EDWIN MARKHAM TO QUILCA; A COUNTRY HOUSE IN NO GOOD REPAIR by JONATHAN SWIFT THE HIGHER PANTHEISM by ALFRED TENNYSON SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE (WASHINGTON CITY, 1865) by WALT WHITMAN LINES WRITTEN IN LADY'S ALBUM OF DIFFERENT-COLOURED PAPER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |