Mortadello

62 MORTADELLO the flesh. During her prayers she rises from height to height of hysteria. MONICA. Thou, who wast nailed by wicked men upon the cross, Now hear me, assailed by villains. All my gain is loss. Breath fails me, dark as hell mine eyes foresee my doom, Death, stern and stark, the glutton shark the tomb, my bloom Blasted. Thy maid, Lord Christ, kept vigil before Thee, Fasted and prayed, endured a life’s Gethsemane ; Now, scourged and spat upon, mocked before priest and king— Thou, gaze on thought, come crowned, come armed, come conquering, Come, save me, save thy maiden ! Strike each barbèd dart Home to the grave convent and cloister of my heart, Where all thine anguish in mine own repeats each phrase. There all loves languish, there all sound of prayer and praise Dies, there one thought alone rules with an iron rod, Flies to the court of our immitigable God— Thine, thy great word that thundered out from Calvary. Mine, hast thou heard ? Eli, lama Sabachthani ! Here, every nail that pierced thy hands, that pierced thy feet, Spear, through the veil of thine immortal heart that beat With love supreme, the infinite wrath of God that bent Above, red beam arched fierce across the firmament, Each devil’s dart strikes through my bosom to rend each chord, Bleach my live heart, send my soul naked to its Lord. Ay ! but the sweat of blood that stands upon my brow ! Die—but not yet—more torture brands my body now, Pangs fierce and fierce as thine—they eat me up with pain. Fangs pierce and pierce, poison runs riot in every vein,