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The first martyr fixed starlit eyes on God, his mind upright, unstained; yet he prayed on also since--while each stone struck hard, left dents as arrows pierce skin--Paul stood near, watched him die, and he'd beat his enemies at last; and as the stones rained, thudded upon him, a curtain was drawn back across the sky, and he found himself near the splendor of paradise, knew more joy, more eagerness, this chosen man. Like the mother who loved her son, he prayed for evil men, never begged for mercy, spoke love. No greedy man ever prized brilliant polished jewels as he that rock which struck him in his deep heart's core. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V C:260. See also B S1:119:144; MS Ve2 (V2); Valgrisi 120. A sonnet on St. Stephen. Reference: Acts 6-7; Jacobus de Voragine, Golden Legend, "the first Christian martyr" stone to death whose face looked "liked the face of an angel" when he faced his accusers. Key |
