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May Carols

Chapter 7: PROLOGUE.
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A sequence of meditative, devotional poems centers on the Virgin Mary and the theological bond between Creation and the Incarnation. Interweaving nature imagery with liturgical and doctrinal reflection, the pieces spiritualize seasonal scenes, invoke Marian titles and feast observances, and present the Incarnation as a consecration of the visible world. Written as linked lyrics and occasional descriptive interludes, the collection alternates reverent praise, symbolic meditation, and contemplative observation of human openness to divine grace.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of May Carols

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: May Carols

Author: Aubrey De Vere

Release date: October 16, 2012 [eBook #41077]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Don Kostuch

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAY CAROLS ***

[Transcriber's Notes:]
This text is derived from
http://archive.org/details/maycarolspoems00veregoog


Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book.

Dedicated to Fr. Richard Trout who brings his love of Christ and the Virgin Mary to life in his preaching at Corpus Christi Parish. "Thanks for the homilies."
[End Transcriber's Notes:]


By the same Author.

I.
THE SEARCH AFTER PEOSERPINE, and
Other Poems. 12mo 7s. 6d.
J. H. and J. Parker, Oxford and London.

II.
POEMS (MISCELLANEOUS AND SACRED).
Fcap. 8vo 4s. 6d.
Burns and Lambert, London.


MAY CAROLS.



London:

Printed by Spottiswoode & Co
New-street Square.



MAY CAROLS.

by

AUBREY DE VERE.



LONDON:

LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, & ROBERTS.

1857.

The right of translation is reserved.



TO

THE VERY REVEREND

HENRY EDWARD MANNING


THESE POEMS

ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED



{v}


INTRODUCTION.


The wisdom of the Church, which consecrates the fleeting seasons of Time to the interests of Eternity, has dedicated the month of May (the birthday festival, as it were, of Creation) to her who was ever destined in the Divine Counsels to become the Mother of her Creator. It belongs to her, of course, as she is the representative of the Incarnation, and its practical exponent to a world but too apt to forget what it professes to hold. The following Poems, written in her honour, are an attempt to set forth, though but in mere outline, each of them some one of the great Ideas or essential Principles embodied in that all-embracing Mystery. On a topic so comprehensive, converse statements, at one time illustrating the highest excellence compatible with mere creaturely existence, at another, the infinite distance between the chief of creatures and the Creator, may seem, at first sight, and to some eyes, contradictory, although in reality, mutually correlative. On an attentive perusal, however, that harmony which exists among the many portions of a single mastering Truth, can hardly fail to appear—and with it the scope and aim of this Poem.

{vi}

With the meditative, descriptive pieces have been interspersed. They are an attempt towards a Christian rendering of external nature. Nature, like Art, needs to be spiritualised, unless it is to remain a fortress in the hands of an adverse Power. The visible world is a passive thing, which ever takes its meaning from something above itself. In Pagan times, it drew its interpretation from Pantheism; and to Pantheism—nay, to that Idolatry which is the popular application of Pantheism—it has still a secret, though restrained tendency, not betrayed by literature alone. A World without Divinity, Matter without Soul, is intolerable to the human mind. Yet, on the other hand, there is much in fallen human nature which shrinks from the sublime thought of a Creator, and rests on that of a sheathed Divinity diffused throughout the universe, its life, not its maker. Mere personified elements, the Wood-God and River-Nymph, captivate the fancy and do not over-awe the soul. For a bias so seductive, no cure is to be found save in authentic Christianity, the only practical Theism. The whole truth, on the long run, holds its own better than the half truth; and minds repelled by the thought of a God who stands afar off, and created the universe but to abandon it to general laws, fling themselves at the feet of a God made Man. In other words, {vii} the Incarnation is the Complement of Creation. In it is revealed the true nature of that link which binds together the visible and invisible worlds. When the "Word was made Flesh," a bridge was thrown across that gulf which had else for ever separated the Finite from the Infinite. The same high Truth which brings home to us the doctrine of a Creation, consecrates that Creation, reconstituting it into an Eden meet for an unfallen Adam and an unfallen Eve; nay, exalting it into a heavenly Jerusalem, the dwelling-place of the Lamb and of the Bride. It does this, in part, through symbols and associations founded on the all-cleansing Blood and the all-sanctifying Spirit—symbols and associations the reverse of those in which an Epicurean mythology took delight, and which the very superficial alone can confound with such. This is perhaps the aspect of Religion least above the level of Poetry.

As to its form, the present work belongs to the class of serial poems, a species of composition happily revived in recent times, as by Wordsworth, in his "Ecclesiastical Sketches," and "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty," by Landor, and, with preeminent success, by the author of "In Memoriam." It was in common use among our earlier poets, who derived it from Petrarch and the Italians. Most often the interest of such poems was of a personal sort, as in the serial sonnets of Shakespeare, Spenser, Sidney, Drummond, Daniel, and Drayton; as well as the "Aurora" of Lord {viii} Stirling, and the "Astrea" of Sir John Davies. Occasionally, it was of a more abstract character. In both cases, alike, advantage was derived from a method of writing which unites an indefinite degree of continuity with a somewhat lawless variety, and which gains in brevity by the omission of connecting bonds. In Herbert's "Temple," Vaughan's "Silex Scintillans," and the chief poems of Donne and Crashaw, the unity is but that of kindred thoughts, and a common subject, not of a complete design. Habington's "Castara," a noble work too little known, combines a personal with an abstract interest. In it many poems on religious and philosophical subjects are grouped for support round a single centre; that centre being the sustained homage paid by the poet to one not unworthy, apparently, of his reverence and love.


{ix}{x}{xi}{xii}

CONTENTS


PAGE
Prologue xv

PART I.
Who feels not, when the Spring once more 3
Upon Thy face, O God, thy world 5
All but unutterable Name 6
Sancta Maria 7
Dei Genitrix 8
Virgo Virginum 9
Ascending from the convent-grates 11
Adolescentulae amaverunt te nimis 12
Mater Christi 13
Mater Christi 14
Mater Creatoris 15
Mater Salvatoris 16
Mater Dolorosa 17
Mater Dolorosa 18
Mater Admirabilis 19
Mater Amabilis 20
Mater Filii 21
Mater Divinae Gratiae 22
Mater Divinae Gratiae 23
When April's sudden sunset cold 24
As children when, with heavy tread 25
Mariae Cliens 26
Fest. Visitationis 28
Not yet, not yet! the Season sings 29
Fest. Nativitatis B.V.M. 30
The moon, ascending o'er a mass 32
A dream came to me while the night 33
Fest. Purificationis 34
Fest. Epiphaniae 35
The sunless day is sweeter yet 36
Legenda 37

PART II.

Conservabat in Corde 41
Ascensio Domini 42
Ascensio Domini 43
Elias 44
Stronger and steadier every hour 45
Speculum Justitiae 46
Munera 48
Predestinata 49
Three worlds there are:—the first of Sense— 51
Alas! not only loveliest eyes 52
Idolatria 53
Tota Pulchra 55
Stella Matutina 57
Janua Coeli 58
If sense of Man's unworthiness 60
Causa Nostra Laetitiae 61
Stella Maris 62
Blossom for ever, blossoming Rod! 64
Unica 65
Magnificat 66
Mystica 67
Expectatio 68
Still on the gracious work proceeds 70
Turris Eburnea 71
Who doubts that thou art finite? Who 73
They seek not; or amiss they seek 74
A sudden sun-burst in the woods 75
Dominica Pentecostes 76
Dominica Pentecostes 78
Turris Davidica 79
"Tu sola interemisti omnes Haereses" 80

PART III.

In vain thine altars do they heap 83
Babylon 84
The golden rains are dashed against 85
Sedes Sapientiae 86
Sedes Sapientiae 87
Here, in this paradise of light 88
Fest. B.V.M. de Monte Carmelo 89
Come from the midnight mountain tops 91
Advocata Nostra 92
Thronus Trinitatis 93
Cultus Sanctorum 94
Fest. S. S. Trinitatis 96
Where is the crocus now, that first 98
"Ad Nives" 99
Fest. Puritatis 101
Cloud-piercing Mountains! Chance and Change 103
Foederis Arca 104
Domus Aurea 105
Respexit Humilitatem 106
Respexit Humilitatem 107
"Sine Labe originali Concepta" 109
"Sine Labe originali Concepta" 110
Brow-bound with myrtle and with gold 111
Corpus Christi 112
Corpus Christi 114
Pleasant the swarm about the bough 115
Sing on, wide winds, your anthems vast 116
Coeli enarrant 117
Caro factus est 119
A woman "clothed with the sun" 121
No ray or all their silken sheen 122

Epilogue 125


PROLOGUE.

  That sun-eyed Power which stands sublime
    Upon the rock that crowns our globe,
  Her feet on all the spoils of time,
    With light eternal on her robe,

  She, sovereign of the orb she guides,
    On Truth's broad sun may root a gaze
  That deepens, onward as she rides,
    And shrinks not from the fontal blaze:

  But they—her daughter Arts—must hide
    Within the cleft, content to see
  Dim skirts of glory waving wide,
    And steps of parting Deity.

'Tis theirs to watch Religion break
    In types from Nature's frown or smile,
  The legend rise from out the lake,
    The relic consecrate the isle.

  'Tis theirs to adumbrate and suggest;
    To point toward founts of buried lore;
  Leaving, in reverence, unexpressed
    What Man must know not, yet adore.

  For where her court true Wisdom keeps,
    'Mid loftier handmaids, one there stands
  Dark as the midnight's starry deeps,
    A Slave, gem-crowned, from Nubia's sands.

  O thou whose light is in thy heart
    Love-taught Submission! without thee
  Science may soar awhile; but Art
    Drifts barren o'er a shoreless sea.

MAY CAROLS

PART I.

I.
  Who feels not, when the Spring once more,
    Stepping o'er Winter's grave forlorn
  With winged feet, retreads the shore
    Of widowed Earth, his bosom burn?

  As ordered flower succeeds to flower,
    And May the ladder of her sweets
  Ascends, advancing hour by hour
    From scale to scale, what heart but beats?

  Some Presence veiled, in fields and groves,
    That mingles rapture with remorse;—
  Some buried joy beside us moves,
    And thrills the soul with such discourse
  As they, perchance, that wondering pair
    Who to Emmaus bent their way,
  Hearing, heard not. Like them our prayer
    We make:—"The night is near us . . Stay!"

  With Paschal chants the churches ring;
    Their echoes strike along the tombs;
  The birds their Hallelujahs sing;
    Each flower with floral incense fumes.

  Our long-lost Eden seems restored;
    As on we move with tearful eyes
  We feel through all the illumined sward
    Some upward-working Paradise.
II.

  Upon Thy face, O God, Thy world
    Looks ever up in love and awe;
  Thy stars, in circles onward hurled,
    Still weave the sacred chain of law.

  In alternating antiphons
    Stream sings to stream and sea to sea;
  And moons that set and sinking suns
    Obeisance make, O God, to Thee.

  The swallow, winter's rage o'erblown,
    Again, on warm May breezes borne,
  Revisiteth her haunts well-known;
    The lark is faithful to the morn.

  The whirlwind, missioned with its wings
    To drown the fleet and fell the tower,
  Obeys thee as the bird that sings
    Her love-chant in a fleeting shower.

  Amid an ordered universe
    Man's spirit only dares rebel:—
  With light, O God, its darkness pierce!
    With love its raging chaos quell!
III.

  All but unutterable Name!
    Adorable, yet awful, sound!
  Thee can the sinful nations frame
    Save with their foreheads to the ground?

  Soul-searching and all-cleansing Fire!
    To see Thy countenance were to die:
  Yet how beyond the bound retire
    Of Thy serene immensity?

  Thou mov'st beside us, if the spot
    We change—a noteless, wandering tribe;
  The orbits of our life and thought
    In Thee their little arcs describe.

  In the dead calm, at cool of day,
    We hear Thy voice, and turn, and flee:—
  Thy love outstrips us on our way:
    From Thee, O God, we fly—to Thee.

Sancta Maria.

IV.

  Mary! To thee the humble cry.
    What seek they? Gifts to Pride unknown.
  They seek thy help—to pass thee by:—
    They murmur, "Show us but thy Son."

  The childlike heart shall enter in;
    The virgin soul its God shall see:—
  Mother, and maiden pure from sin,
    Be thou the guide: the Way is He.

  The mystery high of God made Man
    Through thee to man is easier made:
  Pronounce the consonant who can
    Without the softer vowel's aid!

Dei Genitrix.

V.

  I see Him: on thy lap He lies
    'Mid that Judaean stable's gloom:
  O sweet, O awful Sacrifice!
    He smiles in sleep, yet knows His doom.

  Thou gav'st Him life! But was not this
    That life which knows no parting breath?
  Unmeasured life? unwaning bliss
    Dread Priestess, lo! thou gav'st Him death!

  Beneath the tree thy mother stood:
    Beneath the cross thou too shalt stand:—
  O Tree of Life! O bleeding Rood!
    Thy shadow stretches far its hand.

  That God who made the sun and moon
    In swaddling bands lies dumb and bound!—
  Love's Captive! darker prison soon
    Awaits Thee in the garden ground.

  He wakens. Paradise looks forth
    Beyond the portals of the grave.
  Life, life thou gavest! life to Earth,
    Not Him. Thine Infant dies to save.

Virgo Virginum.

VI.

  When from their lurking place the Voice
    Of God dragged forth that fallen pair,
  Still seemed the garden to rejoice;
   The sinless Eden still was fair.

  They, they alone, whose light of grace
    But late made Paradise look dim,
  Stood now, a blot upon its face,
    Before their God; nor gazed on Him.

  They glanced not up; or they had seen
    In that severe, death-dooming eye
  Unutterable depths serene
    Of sadly-piercing sympathy.

  Not them alone that Eye beheld,
    But, by their side, that other Twain,
  In whom the race whose doom was knelled
    Once more should rise; once more should reign.

{10}
  It saw that Infant crowned with blood;—
    And her from whose predestined breast
  That Infant ruled the worlds. She stood,
    Her foot upon the serpent's crest!

  Voice of primeval prophecy!
    She who makes glad whatever heart
  Adores her Son and Saviour, she
    In thee, that hour, possessed a part!
VII.

  Ascending from the convent-grates,
    The children mount the woodland vale.
'Tis May-Day Eve; and Hesper waits
    To light them, while the western gale

  Blows softly on their bannered line:
    And, lo! down all the mountain stairs
  The shepherd children come to join
    The convent children at their prayers.

  They meet before Our Lady's fane:
    On yonder central rock it stands,
  Uplifting, ne'er invoked in vain,
    That cross which blesses all the lands.

  Before the porch the flowers are flung;
    The lamp hangs glittering 'neath the Rood;
  The "Maris Stella" hymn is sung;
    Their chant each morn to be renewed.

  Ah! if a secular muse might dare,
    Far off, the children's song to catch;
  To echo back, or burthen bear!—
    As fitly might she hope to match

  The linnet's note as theirs, 'tis true:
    Yet, now and then, that borrowed tone,
  Like sunbeams flashed on pine or yew,
    Might shoot a sweetness through her own!

Adolescentulae amaverunt te nimis.

VIII.


  "Behold! the wintry rains are past;
    The airs of midnight hurt no more:
  The young maids love thee. Come at last:
    Thou lingerest at the garden-door.

  "Blow over all the garden; blow,
    Thou wind that breathest of the south,
  Through all the alleys winding low,
    With dewy wing and honeyed mouth.

  "But wheresoever thou wanderest, shape
    Thy music ever to one Name:—
  Thou too, clear stream, to cave and cape
    Be sure thou whisper of the same.

  "By every isle and bower of musk
    Thy crystal clasps, as on it curls,
  We charge thee, breathe it to the dusk;
    We charge thee, grave it in thy pearls."

  The stream obeyed. That Name he bore
    Far out above the moon-lit tide.
  The breeze obeyed. He breathed it o'er
    The unforgetting pines; and died.

Mater Christi.

IX.

  Daily beneath His mother's eyes
    Her Lamb matured His lowliness:
  Twas hers the lovely Sacrifice
    With fillet and with flower to dress.

  Beside His little cross He knelt;
    With human-heavenly lips He prayed:
  His Will within her will she felt;
    And yet His Will her will obeyed.

  Gethsemané! when day is done
    Thy flowers with falling dews are wet:
  Her tears fell never; for the sun
    Those tears that brightened never set.

  The house was silent as that shrine
    The priest but entered once a year.
  There shone His emblem. Light Divine!
    Thy presence and Thy power was here!

Mater Christi.

X.

  He willed to lack; He willed to bear;
    He willed by suffering to be schooled;
  He willed the chains of flesh to wear:
    Yet from her arms the worlds He ruled.

  As tapers 'mid the noontide glow
    With merged yet separate radiance burn,
  With human taste and touch, even so,
    The things He knew He willed to learn.

  He sat beside the lowly door:
    His homeless eyes appeared to trace
  In evening skies remembered lore,
    And shadows of His Father's face.

  One only knew Him. She alone
    Who nightly to His cradle crept,
  And lying like the moonbeam prone,
    Worshipped her Maker as He slept.

Mater Creatoris.

XI.

  Bud forth a Saviour, Earth! fulfil
    Thy first of functions, ever new!
  Balm-dropping heaven, for aye distil
    Thy grace like manna or like dew!

  "To us, this day, a Child is born.'"
    Heaven knows not mere historic facts:—
  Celestial mysteries, night and morn,
    Live on in ever-present Acts.

  Calvary's dread Victim in the skies
    On God's great altar rests even now:
  The Pentecostal glory lies
    For ever round the Church's brow.

  From Son and Father, He, the Lord
    Of Love and Life, proceeds alway:
  Upon the first creative word
    Creation, trembling, hangs for aye.

  Nor less ineffably renewed
    Than when on earth the tie began,
  Is that mysterious Motherhood
    Which re-creates the worlds and man.

Mater Salvatoris.

XII.


  O Heart with His in just accord!
    O Soul His echo, tone for tone!
  O Spirit that heard, and kept His word!
    O Countenance moulded like His own!

  Behold, she seemed on Earth to dwell;
    But, hid in light, alone she sat
  Beneath the Throne ineffable,
    Chanting her clear Magnificat.

  Fed from the boundless heart of God,
    The joy within her rose more high
  And all her being overflowed,
    Until the awful hour was nigh.

  Then, then, there crept her spirit o'er
    The shadow of that pain world-wide
  Whereof her Son the substance bore:—
    Him offering, half in Him she died;

  Standing like that strange Moon, whereon
    The mask of Earth lies dim and dead,
  An orb of glory, shadow-strewn,
    Yet girdled with a luminous thread.

Mater Dolorosa.

XIII.


  She stood: she sank not. Slowly fell
    Adown the Cross the atoning blood.
  In agony ineffable
    She offered still His own to God.

  No pang of His her bosom spared;
    She felt in Him its several power.
  But she in heart His Priesthood shared:
    She offered Sacrifice that hour.

  "Behold thy Son!" Ah, last bequest!
    It breathed His last farewell! The sword
  Predicted pierced that hour her breast.
    She stood: she answered not a word.

  His own in John He gave. She wore
    Thenceforth the Mother-crown of Earth.
  O Eve! thy sentence too she bore;
    Like thee in sorrow she brought forth.

Mater Dolorosa.

XIV.

  From her He passed: yet still with her
    The endless thought of Him found rest;
  A sad but sacred branch of myrrh
    For ever folded in her breast.

  A Boreal winter void of light—
    So seemed her widowed days forlorn:
  She slept; but in her breast all night
    Her heart lay waking till the morn.

  Sad flowers on Calvary that grew;—
    Sad fruits that ripened from the Cross;—
  These were the only joys she knew:
    Yet all but these she counted loss.

  Love strong as Death! She lived through thee
    That mystic life whose every breath
  From Life's low harpstring amorously
    Draws out the sweetened name of Death.

  Love stronger far than Death or Life!
    Thy martyrdom was o'er at last
  Her eyelids drooped; and without strife
    To Him she loved her spirit passed.

Mater Admirabilis.

XV.

  O Mother-Maid! to none save thee
    Belongs in full a Parent's name;
  So fruitful thy Virginity,
    Thy Motherhood so pure from blame!

  All other parents, what are they?
    Thy types. In them thou stood'st rehearsed,
  (As they in bird, and bud, and spray).
    Thine Antitype? The Eternal First!

  Prime Parent He: and next Him thou!
    Overshadowed by the Father's Might,
  Thy "Fiat" was thy bridal vow;
    Thine offspring He, the "Light of Light."

  Her Son Thou wert: her Son Thou art,
    O Christ! Her substance fed Thy growth:—
  She shaped Thee in her virgin heart,
    Thy Mother and Thy Father both!

Mater Amabilis.

XVI.

  Mother of Love! Thy love to Him
    Cherub and seraph can but guess:—
  A mother sees its image dim
    In her own breathless tenderness.

  That infant touch none else could feel
    Vibrates like light through all her sense:
  Far off she hears his cry: her zeal
    With lions fights in his defence.

  Unmarked his youth goes by: his hair
    Still smooths she down, still strokes apart:
  The first white thread that meets her there
    Glides, like a dagger, through her heart.

  Men praise him: on her matron cheek
    There dawns once more a maiden red.
  Of war, of battle-fields they speak:
    She sees once more his father dead.

  In sickness—half in sleep—she hears
    His foot, ere yet that foot is nigh:
  Wakes with a smile; and scarcely fears,
    If he but clasp her hand, to die.

Mater Filii.

XVII.

  Others, the hours of youth gone by,
    A mother's hearth and home forsake;
  And, with the need, the filial tie
    Relaxes, though it does not break.

  But Thou wert born to be a Son.
    God's Son in heaven, Thy will was this,
  To pass the chain of Sonship on,
    And bind in one whatever is.

  Thou cam'st the Son of Man to be,
    That so Thy brethren too might bear
  Adoptive Sonship, and with Thee
    Thy Sire's eternal kingdom share.

  Transcendently the Son Thou art:
    In this mysterious bond entwine,
  As in a single, two-celled heart,
    Thy natures, human and divine.

Mater Divinae Gratiae.

XVIII.

  "They have no wine." The tender guest
    Was grieved their feast should lack for aught.
  He seemed to slight her mute request:
    Not less the grace she wished He wrought.

  O great in Love! O full of Grace!
    That winds in thee, a river broad,
  From Christ, with heaven-reflecting face,
    Gladdening the City of thy God:—

  Be this thy gift: that man henceforth
    No more should creep through life content
  (Draining the springs impure of earth)
    With life's material element.

  Let sacraments to sense succeed:
    Let nought be winning, nought be good
  Which fails of Him to speak, and bleed
    Once more with His all-cleansing blood!

Mater Divinae Gratiae.

XIX.

  The gifts a mother showers each day
    Upon her softly-clamorous brood:
  The gifts they value but for play,—
    The graver gifts of clothes and food,—

  Whence come they but from him who sows
    With harder hand, and reaps, the soil;
  The merit of his labouring brows,
    The guerdon of his manly toil?

  From Him the Grace: through her it stands
    Adjusted, meted, and applied;
  And ever, passing through her hands,
    Enriched it seems, and beautified.

  Love's mirror doubles Love's caress:
    Love's echo to Love's voice is true:—
  Their Sire the children love not less
    Because they clasp a Mother too.
XX.

  When April's sudden sunset cold
    Through boughs half-clothed with watery sheen
  Bursts on the high, new-cowslipped wold,
    And bathes a world half gold half green,

  Then shakes the illuminated air
    With din of birds; the vales far down
  Grow phosphorescent here and there;
    Forth flash the turrets of the town;

  Along the sky thin vapours scud;
    Bright zephyrs curl the choral main;
  The wild ebullience of the blood
    Rings joy-bells in the heart and brain:

  Yet in that music discords mix;
    The unbalanced lights like meteors play;
  And, tired of splendours that perplex,
    The dazzled spirit sighs for May.
XXI.

  As children when, with heavy tread,
    Men sad of face, unseen before,
  Have borne away their mother dead—
    So stand the nations thine no more.

  From room to room those children roam,
    Heart-stricken by the unwonted black:
  Their house no longer seems their home:
    They search; yet know not what they lack.

  Years pass: Self-Will and Passion strike
    Their roots more deeply day by day;
  Old servants weep; and "how unlike"
    Is all the tender neighbours say.

  And yet at moments, like a dream,
    A mother's image o'er them flits:
  Like her's their eyes a moment beam;
    The voice grows soft; the brow unknits.

  Such, Mary, are the realms once thine,
    That know no more thy golden reign.
  Hold forth from heaven thy Babe divine!
    O make thine orphans thine again!