Paul. 
     Ere dull despair o’ermaster all my fears,
     Oh, let me gauge the worth of woman’s tears! 
     For, if the daughter lose, the wife may gain,—­
     Or Felix may relent, if Polyeucte mock my pain;
     If both are adamant unto my prayer,
     Then—­then alone—­take counsel from despair! 
     How passed the temple sacrifice?  Hide naught, my friend, tell all!

     STRAT. 
     The horror and the sacrilege must I, perforce, recall? 
     To say the words, to think the thoughts, seems blasphemy and shame;
     Yet will I tell their infamy,—­their deed without a name. 
     To silence hushed, the people knelt, and turned them to the East;
     Then impious Polyeucte and his friend mock sacrifice and priest. 
     They every holy name invoked jeer with unbridled tongue,
     To laughter vile the incense rose—­’tis thus our hymn was sung;
     Both loud and deep the murmurs rang, and Felix’ face grew pale,
     Then Polyeucte mad defiance hurls, while all the people quail. 
     ‘Vain are your gods of wood and stone!’ his voice was stern
          and high—­
     ‘Vain every rite, prayer, sacrifice’ so ran his blasphemy. 
     ’Your Jupiter is parricide, adulterer, demon, knave,
     ’He cannot listen to your cry, not his to bless or save. 
     ’One God—­Jehovah—­rules alone, supreme o’er earth and heaven,
     ’And ye are His—­yes, only His—­to Him your prayers be given! 
     ’He is our source, our life, our end,—­no other god adore,
     ’To Him alone all prayer is due, then serve Him evermore! 
     ’Who kneels before a meaner shrine, by devil’s power enticed,
     ’Denies his Maker and his King, denies the Saviour Christ. 
     ’He is our source, our guide, our end, our prophet, priest and
          king;
     ‘Twas He that nerved Severus’ arm,—­His praise let Decius sing. 
     ’Jehovah rules the battle-field ye call the field of Mars,
     ’He only grants a glorious peace, ’tis He guides all our wars. 
     ’He casts the mighty from his seat, He doth the proud abase,—­
     ’They only peace and blessing know who love and seek His face. 
     ’His sword alone is strong to strike, His shield our only guard. 
     ’He will His bleeding saints avenge, He is their sure reward. 
     ’In vain to Jove and feeble Mars your full libations pour—­
     ‘Oh, kneel before the might ye spurn, the God ye mock—­adore!’
     Then Polyeucte the shrine o’erthrows, the holy vessels breaks,
     Nor wrath of Jove, nor Felix’ ire, his fatal purpose shakes. 
     Foredoomed by Fate, the Furies’ prey—­they rush, they rend,
          they tear,
     The vessels all to fragments fly—­all prone the offerings fair;
     And on the front of awful Jove they set their impious feet,
     And order fair to chaos turn, and thus their work complete. 
     Our hallowed mysteries disturbed, our temple dear profaned,
     Mad flight and tumult dire let loose, proclaim a God disdained. 
     Thus pallid fear broods over all, presaging wrath to come,
     While Felix—­but I mark his step!—­’tis he shall speak the doom.