Pierced in my throat, painting the plain with blood.
Here my sight failed me and I fell: the last
Word that I spake was Mary's name, and then
From my deserted flesh the spirit passed.
The truth I tell now, tell to living men;
God's Angel took me, but that fiend of Hell
Screamed out: 'Ha! thou from heaven, why robb'st thou me?
His soul thou get'st for one small tear that fell,
But of this offal other work I'll see.'
Thou know'st how vapors gathering in the air