Alliciens varios hæc mea forma procos;
Qui me cum blandis non possent fallere verbis,
Ecce minas addunt, denique vimque parant.
Tunc ego non volui pulchrum præponere honesto,
Diripui rigida sed mea pulchra manu
Templa, domos, hortos, in propugnacula verti,
Arcerent stolidos quæ procul inde procos.
Diripui pulchrum certe, ut tutarer honestum.
E pulchra et fortis facta Geneva vocor.[[668]]
Geneva was then passing through the arduous ordeal of transformation. Rough blows assailed her, groans burst from her bosom, and on her features was the pallor of death. But in the hour when the sacrifice was thus accomplished on the altar, when riches and beauty were immolated to save independence and faith, when these proud thoughts agitated men’s hearts and made their presence known by a cry of agony or by words of high-mindedness, a mysterious light shone forth, in the midst of the darkness; liberty, morality, and the Gospel had appeared. Hopeful eyes had seen a new edifice, radiant with immortal glory, rising above the ruins of the old. The song then heard was not the song of death, but of resurrection.