’Twere better awake to remain,
Come down from thy pillar, Stylites,
Our Patron of Pain!”
The holy man, it need not be remark’d,
Turn’d as deaf ear to such lascivious singing
As when a serpent hiss’d or wild dog barked,
Or raven croak’d around his column winging;
Immovable in body as in mind,
He bore his life’s insufferable tedium,
Ft seems a pity that he could not find