A Martyr’s Epitaph
(From ‘Easter Day’.)
I was born sickly, poor, and mean,
A slave: no misery could screen
The holders of the pearl of price
From Caesar’s envy; therefore twice
I fought with beasts, and three times saw
My children suffer by his law;
At last my own release was earned:
I was some time in being burned,
But at the close a Hand came through
The fire above my head, and drew
My soul to Christ, whom now I see.
Sergius, a brother, writes for me
This testimony on the wall—
For me, I have forgot it all.