Finally, the long procession
Came up to the greyish ruins
And stopped at the foot of mountain
Where Madonna's Holy picture
Hangs among the briar roses.
In two streams the throng divided
To let pass, right through their center
Johannites with monks and clergy.
Through this trebly made formation
Passed the bishop to the picture,
To their knees sank thronging people,
Ceased all whisp'ring . . . long drawn quiet.
Up above the wall of mountain
In the shade of white acacia,
Satanella gazed and wondered
What went on there far beneath her.
In the meanwhile she selected
From her lap, dates long and slender
Feasted on them, and assembled
All their pits and stones about her.
Suddenly her roaming vision
'twixt the Johannites detected
Roderigo in his dark cloak,
Standing there with shaded forehead
As a cloud on skies in summer.
41
