“Look up!” a sweet voice spake, “and praise the Lord!”
He obeyed trembling—O illumined head!
Low with an altered spirit he adored.
Thenceforth an angel’s eyes, her own instead,
Lighted her to her martyrdom’s reward.
IX.
ST. URSULA.
A bower of woven palms! In white arrayed,
Marshalled beneath that verdant canopy
By fair-haired Ursula of Brittany,
Eleven thousand martyrs, each a maid!