Lament! for Diocletian's fiery sword
Works busy as the lightning; but instinct
With malice ne'er to deadliest weapon linked,
Which God's ethereal store-houses afford
Against the Followers of the incarnate Lord
It rages;--some are smitten in the field--
Some pierced beneath the unavailing shield
Of sacred home;--with pomp are others gor'd
And dreadful respite. Thus was Alban tried,
England's first Martyr, whom no threats could shake;
Self-offered Victim, for his friend he died,
And for the faith; nor shall his name forsake
That Hill2, whose flowery platform seems to rise
By Nature decked for holiest sacrifice.
Design, coding, and editing: Copyright © 1997-2004 by James M. Garrett. All rights reserved.