The Legend Of St Dorothea, Virgin And Martyr Poem by David Mitchell

Dorothea would not bow
To idols, and she would not wed,
And now they tortured her, and now
Decided that she should be dead.

Sapricius sentenced her to die,
And asked her where was now her Christ;
And sweetly did she make reply,
'My Jesus is in Paradise.

In Paradise, where pleasant fruits
In endless temp'rate Spring do grow;
In Paradise, fair flowers and shoots
Have burgeonéd from long ago;

In Paradise, where grass grows green
And lovely life, out of the flesh,
Is endless; in this gorgeous scene
All such delights are ever fresh.'

Theophilus, a lawyer, then
Began to speak in jeering tone:
'Say, Dorothy, bring hither, when
To Paradise your soul is flown,

Apples and roses, if you please';
And Dorothea said she would;
She pray'd to Him Who all things sees,
And He did not deny her good.

For, ere her slaughter had occurr'd,
An angel brought a basket here,
From which Theophilus inferr'd
Eternal truth - and he did fear.

Three roses and three apples came
From heaven in that angel's case,
Theophilus did Christ proclaim,
Ready for Him his death to face.

They both were kill'd for Jesus' sake,
They gladly left this vale of tears;
Could we their blest example take,
And lose this life for endless years?