Then came a mighty troop,
A throng of warriors thirsting after blood, 1270
With clamor loud unto the prison mirk.
They gave command to lead the noble saint,
That steadfast man, into his foemen's grasp;
And once again he suffered all day long,
Beaten with grievous blows; his blood welled out
In streams o'er all his body....
...Worn with wounds
He scarce felt any pain. Then from his breast
The sound of weeping issued faintly forth,
A stream welled up, and thus he spake in words:-- 1280
"O God, my Lord, behold now mine estate,
Ruler of hosts, Thou who dost understand
And know the misery of every man;
I trust in Thee, Thou Author of my life,
That, in Thy mercy and Thy glorious power,
O Savior of mankind, Thou never wilt
Forsake me, everlasting God of might;
So while my life shall last I ne'er will leave,
O God, Thy gracious teachings! Lo, Thou art 1290
A shield against the weapons of the foe
For all Thy saints, eternal Source of joy.
Let not man's foe, the first-born child of sin,
Revile me now, nor by his fiendish craft
Cover with woe the men who spread Thy praise."

Then in their midst the ugly fiend appeared,
That wicked traitor damned to torments sharp;
Before the host he taught the warriors,