Sequence 80. St., Denis

October qth.
GREECE ! rejoice thou in thy son !

Let all France's pride be shown
In St. Denis, her own sire !

And let Paris too, become
Famed through his blest martyrdom,
Show a joy yet more entire !

Specially with heart and voice
Doth the happy Church rejoice
Over all her martyr-bands ;
Those whose patronage hath made
Far and wide the country glad,
And through whom the kingdom stands.

Near this father placed, a band
Of illustrious warriors stand,
Worthy of all memory ;
But, O royal Church ! of all
Dost thou constantly recall
This one more especially.

By the Sovereign Pope to France
Sent forth, he no fear displays
At the reckless violence
Of its unbelieving race
The apostle set o'er Gaul
To Lutetia came, a town
Which the crafty foe of all
Held in thraldom, as his own.

Here 'mid errors' loathsome mass
Lay heaped all impurity,
Here a wretched populace
Gloried in idolatry.

Mercury's image they adored,
A profane and lying god ;
But St. Denis' faith assured
Soon the devil's work downtrod.

He, while building there God's temple,
Taught by word and by example.

Bright with miracles' bright fame.
Truth is heeded,
Errors ceded ;
As faith groweth,
Glory gloweth
Round so great a bishop's name.

When the fierce Domitian heareth,
He beside himself appeareth,
And Sisinnius sendeth down,
Who to torture forthwith leadeth
This good shepherd, who souls feedeth,
For his faith, life, signs, well known.

Scourges, chains, incarceration.
Feels the old man in his passion ;
O'er iron bed and fierce flames' heat
And rack his victory is complete.

Fierce wild beasts by prayer he tameth,
Bears his cross, slacks fire that flameth ;
After the nails and gibbet-tree
Conducted to a jail is he.

As the old man celebrateth
Mass, and near a vast crowd waiteth,
Christ His presence indicateth
With the heavenly host around.

In his close incarceration
Christ still gives him consolation,
And life's bread for sustentation.

With great glory to be crowned.
Forth to fight the martyr goeth,
Heedless what the headsman doeth ;
Till the lictor
Strikes, and victor
Makes his victim, as he bled.

Soon the trunk resuscitated,
Bearing off its head truncated,
Hither, with that burden weighted,
Came, by angel-cohorts led.

Let this martyrdom so bright
Fill our hearts with pure delight ! Amen,
36 i-. SAVINIANUS ET POTENTIANUS,