The Death Of Holofernes.

THE DEATH OF HOLOFERNES

   A hand that clutches like a giant claw,
   Gripping the crimson curtain in its rage
   And everywhere a sudden rain of blood
   Darkening the maps and implements of war:
   The tent of Holofernes like a cage
   Strewn with vile offal, goblets on the ground,
   Where his besotted palace guards lie sprawled
   And snore, oblivious of their murdered lord.

   The sword of Judith hanging in the air
   Like lightning in a blinding after flash,
   Obliterating the proud battle feast;
   As on the rampart, the victorious maid
   Holds up to Israel the fiendish head
   They feared, the eyes still blinking back at death.

--RICHARD O'CONNELL from the Spanish of Lope de Vega