Xli. In Laudem S. Eulaliae V. Et M

Young budding virgin, who in bashful pride, All dedicate to Christ, didst stand apart From crowds of pitying faithless, and with heart Unmoved didst count the iron talons gride Their purple furrows in thy tender side; Beautiful is thy story; full of food For youthful souls that need be gently wooed: Few have confessed so young, so sweetly died. Forth with thine ebbing breath was seen to fly A milk--white dove to heaven, an emblem meet Of undefiled baptismal purity; And dead upon the inhospitable street, With gently floating flakes the piteous sky Snow--clad thy girlish limbs, as with a funeral sheet.