Albin monologue — Polyeucte

You know the issue of that glorious fight: The crowning glory his--who, in despite Of danger sore to life and liberty, Became a slave to set his Emperor free: Rome gave her honours to Severus' shade, Whilst he, her ransomer, in a dungeon stayed. His death they mourned above ten thousand slain, While Persia held him--yes, their tears were vain, But not in vain his noble sacrifice! The king released him: Rome grudged not the price; No Persian bribe could tempt him from his home. When Decius cried--'Fight once again for Rome!' Again he fights--he leads--all others hope resign; But from despair's deep breast he plucks a star benign, This--hope's fair fruit, contentment, plenty, ease, Brings joy from grief, to crown a lasting peace. The Emperor holds him as his dearest friend, And doth Severus to Armenia send-- To offer up to Mars, and mighty Jove, 'Mid feast and sacrifice, his thanks and love.