Chapter_39

6 0 00

Santa Agueda, thou that wast accursed

With presence of a demon dressed in Man,

Blessed art thou, for on thy stones there ran

The vampire blood from bitter torture nursed;

Along thy streets there flashed the lightning-burst,

“Delivered!” flaming on from eye to eye,

Though lips said “killed,” and all thy gateways hearsed

In lying black, made mourning mockery.

Blessed art thou! From thee went forth the cry,

“Vengeance yet loves, Renunciation hates,

And justice smites: the torturer shall die;”

Across his path the steel-nerved slayer waits

“And both shall burn together,”⁠—one in light

Of unconsuming hell and reddened night;

And one with feet on hell and brow dawn-rayed, pure white.