(Where the torturer Canovas breathed his last.)
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.
Philadelphia, August, 1898.
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.
Philadelphia, August, 1898.
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