| Non illam crucians ungula, non feræ,Non virgæ horribili vulnere commovent;
 Hinc lapsi e Superum sedibus Angeli
 Cœlesti dape recreant.
Quin et deposita sævitie leoSe rictu placido projicit ad pedes:
 Te Martina tamen dans gladius neci
 Cœli cœtibus inserit.
Te, thuris redolens ara vaporibus,Quæ fumat, precibus jugiter invocate,
 Et falsum perimens auspicium, tui
 Delet nominis omine.
A nobis abigas lubrica gaudiaTu, qui Martyribus dexter ades, Deus
 Une et trine: tuis da famulis jubar,
 Quo clemens animos beas.
 | The agonizing hooks, the rending scourge,Shook no the dauntless spirit in her breast;
 With torments racked, Angels her fainting flesh
 Recruit with heavenly feast.
In vain they cast her to the ravening beasts;Calm at her feet the lion crouches down:
 Till smitten by the sword at length she goes
 To her immortal crown.
Now with the Saints Martina reigns in bliss,And where Idolatry sat throned of yore,
 For her victorious altar praise and prayer
 With odorous incense soar.
Expel false worldly joys; and fill us, Lord,With Thy irradiating beam divine;
 Who with Thy suffering Martyrs present art,
 Great Godhead one and thrine.
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