_Et conspuebant illum._ Marc. xiv. 65.
Quid non tam foede saevi maris audeat ira?
Conspuit ecce oculos, sydera nostra, tuos.
Forsan et hic aliquis sputo te excaecat, Jesu,
Qui debet sputo, quod videt ipse, tuo.
_And they spat upon Him._
What will Wrath's sea, so foully fierce, not dare?
It spits upon our stars, Thy eyes so fair.
Perchance e'en here some one now spits on Thee
Who to Thy spittle owes it, he doth see. G.