Thus is portrayed in words of import grave
Through Benedictus’ noble spirit-sight,
The inward life of many human souls.
Each phrase goes home destructive to my heart—
Unfolding truly mine own way and life
Until this day, with cruel vividness.
And should a god this very hour appear
Descending on me in a raging storm
And clad in wrath, yet could his threatening might
Not torture me with more appalling fears