Hate of foes, or plaint of friends' dissembling;
If sighs come—most patient prayers outlive them:
'Lord, these know not what they do. Forgive them!'
Thirstier still the roaring flames are glowing,
Fainter in his ear the laughters growing;
Brief endures the fierce and fiery trial—
Angel-welcomes drown the earth-denial.
Now the amorous death-fires, gleaming ruddy,
Clasp him close. Down sinks the quivering body,
While through harmless flames immortal flying