Build up a house of silver,[[116]] and instal
Her worship”—so the monks. O bleeding core
Of maidenhood, thy Spouse and King shall pour
Balm in thy wounds, the lilies’ growth recall!
When Etna belched forth Phlegethon, and rolled
Its molten flanks upon Catania,
The saint’s veil they did reverently unfold
And wave it in the face of fire—Behold!
Piled black against the convent’s wall to-day,
That Red Sea curdled by Saint Agatha!