To strive, and those must strive in vain : For lack of further lives, to slake The thirst of vengeance now awake, VOL. V. To the high altar on they go; Oh, but it made a glorious show! On its table still behold The cup of consecrated gold; 950 Massy and deep, a glittering prize, 955 Brightly it sparkles to plunderers' eyes: That morn it held the holy wine, Converted by Christ to his blood so divine, Which his worshippers drank at the break of day, To shrive their souls ere they joined in the fray. Still a few drops within it lay; And round the sacred table glow Twelve lofty lamps, in splendid row, From the purest metal cast; A spoil-the richest, and the last. 965 Spire, vaults, the shrine, the spoil, the slain, The turbaned victors, the Christian band, All that of living or dead remain, Hurled on high with the shivered fane, 970 |