I have slow, dull steps and lingering pains
Wherewith to tame the bold!”
“Death, Death! I go to a doom unblest,
If this indeed must be;
But the Cross is bound upon my breast,
And I may not shrink for thee!
“Sound, clarion! sound!—for my vows are given
To the cause of the holy shrine;
I bow my soul to the will of heaven,
O Death!—and not to thine!”