Saint Reparata Being Prepared for Execution

O’ fair Saint Reparta,

Whose cloaks once billowed in the wind,

Was taken off by mad King Deicus,

As though she had for sinned.

 

She knelt before his mighty men,

Virgin lips pure and pale,

She shut her eyes for she sure knew

The end to this lofty tale.

 

The king’s head man grasped her hair,

Yet she felt no sense of dread.

It was, after all,

All that God had said.

 

“Have no fear beloved”,

God whispered in her ear.

“It will all be over soon,

for you will meet me here!”

 

And with that she heard, at long long last,

The whistle of the blade.

It came and went with one fell swoop,

And the world began to fade.

 

But while her body fell to earth,

Full of life no more,

Out appeared a newborn dove

From the corpse of so called whore