“O holy Maries, who can cheer The sorrow-laden, Lend, I beseech, a pitying ear To one poor maiden! “Now am I come, dear Saints, from far, To sue for peace: Nor mother-prayer my way could bar, Nor wilderness; “The sun, that cruel archer, shot Into my brain,-- Thorns, as it were, and nails red-hot,-- Sharp is the pain; “Yet give me but my Vincen dear: Then will we duly, We two, with glad hearts worship here,-- Oh, I say truly! “Then the dire pain will rend no more These brows of mine, And the face bathed in tears before Will smile and shine. “My sire mislikes our love; is cold And cruel often: ’Twere naught to you, fair Saints of gold, His heart to soften. “Howe’er so hard the olive grow, ’Tis mollified By all the winds that alway blow At Advent-tide. “The medlar and the service-plum, So sharp to taste When gathered, strewn on straw become A pleasant feast. “O holy Maries, who can cheer The sorrow-laden, Lend, I beseech, a pitying ear To one poor maiden! * * * * * “Oh, what can mean this dazzling light? The church is riven O’erhead; the vault with stars is bright. Can this be heaven? “Oh, who so happy now as I? The Saints, my God,-- The shining Saints,--toward me fly, Down yon bright road! “O blessed patrons, are you there To help, to stay me? Yet hide the dazzling crowns you wear, Or these will slay me. “Veil in a cloud the light appalling! My eyes are heavy. Where is the chapel? Are you calling? O Saints, receive me!” So, in a trance and past all earthly feeling, The stricken girl upon the pavement kneeling, With pleading hands, and head thrown backward, cried. Her large and lovely eyes were opened wide, As she beyond the veil of flesh discerned St. Peter’s gates, and for the glory yearned. Mute were her lips now; but her face yet shone, And wrapped in glorious contemplation She seemed. So, when the gold-red rays of dawn Early alight the poplar-tips upon, The flickering night-lamp turneth pale and wan In the dim chamber of a dying man. And, as at daybreak, also, flocks arouse From slumber and disperse, the sacred house Appeared to open, all its vaulted roof To part, and pillars tall to stand aloof, Before the three fair women,--heavenly fair,-- Who on a starry path came down the air. White in the ether pure, and luminous, Came the three Maries out of heaven thus. One of them clasped an alabaster vase Close to her breast, and her celestial face In splendour had that star alone for peer That beams on shepherds when the nights are clear.