112
SAINT MAURA.
So do not pity me. It made me pray;
Forget my shame in pain, and pain in you,
And you in God: and once, when I looked down,
And saw an ugly sight—so many wounds!
'What matter?' thought I. 'His dear eyes are dark;
For them alone I kept these limbs so white—
A foolish pride! As God wills now. 'Tis just.'
But then the judge spoke out in haste: 'She is mad,
Or fenced by magic arts! She feels no pain!'
He did not know I was on fire within:
Better he should not; so his sin was less:
Then he cried fiercely, 'Take the slave away,
And crucify her by her husband's side!'
And at those words a film came on my face—
A sickening rush of joy—was that the end?
That my reward? I rose, and tried to go—
But all the eyes had vanished, and the judge;
And all the buildings melted into mist:
So how they brought me here I cannot tell—
Here, here, by you, until the judgment-day,
Forget my shame in pain, and pain in you,
And you in God: and once, when I looked down,
And saw an ugly sight—so many wounds!
'What matter?' thought I. 'His dear eyes are dark;
For them alone I kept these limbs so white—
A foolish pride! As God wills now. 'Tis just.'
But then the judge spoke out in haste: 'She is mad,
Or fenced by magic arts! She feels no pain!'
He did not know I was on fire within:
Better he should not; so his sin was less:
Then he cried fiercely, 'Take the slave away,
And crucify her by her husband's side!'
And at those words a film came on my face—
A sickening rush of joy—was that the end?
That my reward? I rose, and tried to go—
But all the eyes had vanished, and the judge;
And all the buildings melted into mist:
So how they brought me here I cannot tell—
Here, here, by you, until the judgment-day,
