 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
SAINT PERPETUA.
(DIED A.D. 203.)
Silence, ye crowds! how dare ye thus make startAn infant feeding at its mother's breast,
Feeding on sacred food and sacred rest?
Vain are your cries, your pity vain. Depart!
But ye, dread masters in death's fatal art,
Torturers! remain: and try, though shame-opprest,
Once more your skill; fulfil the dread behest:
Her head ye shall not bow nor shake her heart.
The Lady's eyes alternately were bent
On Heaven and on her child; a grave, sweet smile
Tenderly circling her pale lips the while;
Until at last the infant was content:
Then drooped her lids, and sighing o'er his sigh
The mother's spirit sought its native sky.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |