Close behind the monks and maidens
Midst his clergy, walks the bishop
On whose cloak and shining monstrance
Flaming brilliants are burning.
In the summer heat, two servants
Bending 'neath their swaying burden
Watt cool breezes o'er his features
With a fan of ostrich feathers.
And the bishop, with his monstrance
All around him passes blessings,
And where'er his gaze but wanders
Masses kneel in dust before him.
After bishop, in one column,
Rides the Johannitic Order,
And their swords, belts, shields and helmets
Burn as gold beneath the sunshine.
And the silver-haired grand-master
On a snow-white horse is riding,
On each side a page to lead him
By a gold embroidered bridle.
'twixt his comrades, Roderigo
In full armor, splendid raiment,
Walking with a cloudy forehead,
Lowered head and stormy vision.
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