On one Good-Friday morn,
Followed by armed retainers, and slow bent
Unto San Miniato to attend
High Mass, in faithfulness to Hubert's soul,
He met unwittingly within a pass
That leads to the Basilica this man,
Of all men hated most. Close, face to face,
Spell-bound they stood a moment's span; then flashed
From out Giovanni's sheath his gleaming sword,
And by its glittering sign with one will rose