POPE CELESTIN AND GIORDANO
Gold said you, gold? there was hair once she had
Most like a Byzant painter makes
For some saint's face—alas, the hair she had
Which now red worms have eaten to the roots!
Ah, flesh is weaker than a rich man's breath,
An old man's hand with fingers shut like these—
The mouth she had which years ago black earth
Filled to the lips that used to kiss me once,
Which Mary pardon! so shall I too die
And have my body eaten of cold worms
As Herod—so Christ pardon me the sin!
Gold said you, on her bosom? ah, she wore
An armlet of thin gold, and on her neck
There was a plait she had of threaded yellow silk—
And all this has been done with many years,
And will not come again. I grow so old,
So old and sick, alas the evil flesh!
Gio. I told your Holiness of Henry's aim,
His aim assured and evident, to seize
The Church lands and the Church's wealth, if you
Confirm not, sir, his tyrannous dignity
By the mere seal of strong permission: think
I do beseech you by Queen Mary's might,
What shame, what utter peril there should be
If this thing fall! That henceforth one may say
Trust in the Church and trust, and find no place
Most like a Byzant painter makes
For some saint's face—alas, the hair she had
Which now red worms have eaten to the roots!
Ah, flesh is weaker than a rich man's breath,
An old man's hand with fingers shut like these—
The mouth she had which years ago black earth
Filled to the lips that used to kiss me once,
Which Mary pardon! so shall I too die
And have my body eaten of cold worms
As Herod—so Christ pardon me the sin!
Gold said you, on her bosom? ah, she wore
An armlet of thin gold, and on her neck
There was a plait she had of threaded yellow silk—
And all this has been done with many years,
And will not come again. I grow so old,
So old and sick, alas the evil flesh!
Gio. I told your Holiness of Henry's aim,
His aim assured and evident, to seize
The Church lands and the Church's wealth, if you
Confirm not, sir, his tyrannous dignity
By the mere seal of strong permission: think
I do beseech you by Queen Mary's might,
What shame, what utter peril there should be
If this thing fall! That henceforth one may say
Trust in the Church and trust, and find no place
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