The soul that always loved the just and fair.
Granite and marble loud their woe confessed,
The silver monstrances that Pope has blessed.
The chalices and lamps and crosiers rare
Were seared and twisted by a flaming-breath;
The horror everywhere did rage and swell,
The guardian Saints into this furnace fell,
Their bitter tears and screams were stilled in death.
Around the flames armed hosts are skirmishing,
The burning sun reflects the lurid scene;