We call on you men of Reggio
To give us the daughter of Abramo,
That she pass and pass through consuming fire
Till she hath naught left that men desire.
Give us the daughter of Abramo."
Swift and dread, dark-robed and dim,
Like thunder about a crater's brim,
They surged round the city at dead of night
And chased their shadows in stately flight,
And swept the circle with beating hoof,