Changed water into wine; yet in night’s eye,
A slim maid that was shut ’twixt four known walls,
Your Christian God turns to a brawny youth,
Whom seven men and myself barely haled hither.
Didymus. Murmur not, wonder not: ye are broad awake.
No trick hath been, nor am I one transformed.
Whom late ye thought to have, lo, ye have lost;
And whom ye have unwitting, ye may keep.
There is a twofold glory on the hour:
A virgin is a virgin still, and I,