That He who brought their lives to be
Should crown their loves with victory.
They rose and flew their heraldry:
An evening star, a saffron sea,
And on the sea, the star below,
The dry-shod pard of Reggio.
No answer made the sable foe,
But round the tower, with footsteps slow,
Paced till his journeys numbered three;
Then from the host one silently,