Francis After Collestrada

Our army met Perugia’s on the plain
beside the hospital. All day we fought
with crossbow, sword, and lancet to obtain
our freedom, but by dusk it came to naught.
So I became a prisoner of men,
as glorious as a rat holed in its nest,
and mourned for joys I might not taste again,
considering him pierced the truly blessed.
Then skulking home, I gained some intimation
of grace in watching lepers beg their food,
and learned no earthly city is my nation,
and that affliction borne can proffer good.
For Heaven holds neither Ghibelline nor Guelph,
but those whom God abases for himself.

Next
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE

How to Write a Russian Novel

John Wilson

The Prodigal of Leningradby daniel taylorparaclete press, 256 pages, $21.99 There is of course no generic “Russian…

Knausgaard’s Mephistopheles

Trevor Cribben Merrill

Back in college, one of my literature professors once remarked that the first hundred pages of a…

Living with Wittgenstein

John Schwenkler

In the autumn of 1944, Ludwig Wittgenstein noticed a young doctoral student in attendance at his lectures…