Classic Poem

So late, Vanini, and so near the age
We dare to boast from superstition free!
We might forget such things could ever be,
And blot them out of history's bloody page,
Were not the fangs shown now in impotent rage
That in thy flesh were set so fatally!
They did thy tongue tear out; and, binding thee
Amid the faggots, paid thee fiery wage,

Because thou daredst assert a nobler God
Than that fierce Moloch that, in Christ's dear name,
They set up as thy judge to punish thee.
The same truth that thou saw'st became a rod
To beat to dust their idol; and the flame
That burnt thee burnt man's bonds and set him free.

So late, Vanini, and so near the age
We dare to boast from superstition free!
We might forget such things could ever be,
And blot them out of history's bloody page,
Were not the fangs shown now in impotent rage
That in thy flesh were set so fatally!
They did thy tongue tear out; and, binding thee
Amid the faggots, paid thee fiery wage,

Because thou daredst assert a nobler God
Than that fierce Moloch that, in Christ's dear name,
They set up as thy judge to punish thee.
The same truth that thou saw'st became a rod
To beat to dust their idol; and the flame
That burnt thee burnt man's bonds and set him free.