The thirteen books Saint Cyril wrote.
The controversies of Jerome,
He could recite them, tome by tome.
The friar was tall and spare and spent,
Like a cedar of Lebanon bare and bent.
His eyes were sunken and burned too bright,
Like restless stars in the pit of night.
The friar had built a tower of stone,
And dwelt far up in a cell alone;
And from the turret, gray in air,