thee.'
Then the Devil said:

He is pure gold, he is the sky around the sun,
He is a vessel of silver with wine,
He is an angel, he is holy wisdom,
Whoso doth the will of the King.

He is a bird round which a trap closes,
He is a leaky ship in perilous danger,
He is an empty vessel, a withered tree,
Who doth not the will of the King above.

He is a fragrant branch with its blossom,
He is a vessel full of honey,
He is a precious stone with its virtue,
Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven.

He is a blind nut in which there is no good,
He is a stinking rottenness, a withered tree,
He is a branch of a blossomless crab-apple,
Whoso doth not the will of the King.

Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven
Is a brilliant summer-sun,
Is a dais of God of Heaven,
Is a pure crystalline vessel.

He is a victorious racehorse over a smooth plain,
The man that striveth after the Kingdom of great God;
He is a chariot that is seen
Under a triumphant king.

He is a sun that warms holy Heaven,
A man with whom the Great King is pleased,
He is a temple blessed, noble,
He is a holy shrine bedecked with gold.

He is an altar on which wine is dealt,
Round which a multitude of melodies is sung,
He is a cleansed chalice with liquor,
He is fair white bronze, he is gold.

MAELISU'S HYMN TO THE ARCHANGEL MICHAEL

O angel!
Bear, O Michael of great miracles,
To the Lord my plaint.

Hearest thou?
Ask of forgiving God
Forgiveness of all my vast evil.

Delay not!
Carry my fervent prayer
To the King, to the great King!

To my soul
Bring help, bring comfort
At the hour of its leaving earth.

Stoutly
To meet my expectant soul
Come with many thousand angels!

O soldier!
Against the crooked, wicked, militant world
Come to my help in earnest!

Do not
Disdain what I say!
As long as I live do not desert me!

Thee I choose,
That thou mayst save my soul,
My mind, my sense, my body.

O thou of goodly counsels,
Victorious, triumphant one,
Angelic slayer of Antichrist!

THE MOTHERS' LAMENT AT THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS

Then, as the executioner plucked her son from her breast, one of the women
said:

Why do you tear from me my darling son,
The fruit of my womb?
It was I who bore him,
My breast he