A plague upon Byzantine

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Vengeful, wrathful wraith
What hast thee wrought.
Upon penitent people, a pestilence
Upon the city of God, a pox.
From seas to ships, from sailors
to cities spreading, from living to dead
converting. Why this cataclysm.
Consigned to conflagration, the city of God.
O education of God, o fateful weave,
those who leave this plane, a wave
of the faithful, offered unto thine
Sanctuary. May they rest in peace.
Deserted cities, dire in strait, see
the dying in their droves,
the walking dead, dropping like flies.
Give them peace, o divine justice.
Give forgiveness to the dear departed.

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