XXVI.

Still havoc, plunder reigns. Where is thy sword, Sebastian, Warrior-Saint, that now should wheel Like the Archangel’s, Eden who restored To Solitude? Dost thou less horror feel That thine own City ’neath the shock should reel Of ruffian violence? Prætorian brave, The Imperial Boar withstanding in thy zeal, Thou whom nor Roman shafts subdued nor glaive, Thy consecrated town arise, great Saint, and save!