Chorus of Women.
To mould; to mould!
Publia.
They murder our brothers; our children they smite.
Soar up, doves of song, and pray God to requite!
Chorus of Women.
Pray God to requite!
Publia.
[Catching sight of Julian.] There he stands! Woe to the miscreant who has burnt the word of the Lord! Think you you can burn the word of the Lord with fire? I will tell you where it burns. [She wrests a knife from one of the sacrificing priests, cuts open her breast and probes into the wound.
Here the word burns. You may burn our books;
but the word shall burn in the hearts of men until
the uttermost end of time!
[She casts the knife from her.
The Women.
[Sing with growing ecstasy.
Let writings be burnt, and let bodies be slain; The word shall remain— The word shall remain!
[They take Publia into their midst and go out towards the country.
The People by the Fountain.
Woe to us; the Galileans' God is the strongest!
