Wretches, do ye put rage into cold stones?
Why rush so eagerly to work so vile?
Your stones unwilling add to Stephen's moans,
But gladly heap a tomb for him the while. G.
XC.
Sancto Joanni dilecto discipulo.
Tu fruere, augustoque sinu caput abde, quod ô tum
Nollet in aeterna se posuisse rosa.
Tu fruere; et sacro dum te sic pectore portat,
O sat erit tergo me potuisse vehi.
To St. John the beloved disciple.
Upon His breast thy happy head reposes,
Nor would that pillow change for Heaven's own roses:
While thus His bosom bears up happy thee,
To press His shoulders were enough for me. G.
XCI.
In lactentes martyres. Matt. ii. 16, 17.
Vulnera natorum qui vidit et ubera matrum,
Per pueros fluviis, ah! simul ire suis:
Sic pueros quisquis vidit, dubitavit an illos
Lilia coelorum diceret, anne rosas.
Upon the infant martyrs.