[_Mary_] "O my Joseph, O Jacob's son, 165 Kinsman of David, the king renowned, Dost thou plan to turn from thy plighted troth, And leave my love?" [_Joseph_] "Alas, full soon I am oppressed with grief and deprived of honor. I have borne for thee many bitter words, 170 Insulting slurs and sorrowful taunts, Scathing abuses, and they scorn me now In wrathful tones. My tears I shall pour In sadness of soul. My sorrowful heart, My grief full easily our God may heal, 175 And not leave me forlorn. Alas, young damsel, Mary maiden!" [_Mary_] "Why bemoanest thou And bitterly weepest? No blame in thee, Nor any fault have I ever found For wicked works, and this word thou speakest 180 As if thou thyself with sinful deeds And faults wert filled." [_Joseph_] "Far too much grief Thy conception has caused me to suffer in shame. How can I bear their bitter taunts Or ever make answer to my angry foes 185 Who wish me woe? 'Tis widely known That I took from the glorious temple of God A beautiful virgin of virtue unblemished, The chastest of maidens, but a change has now come, Though I know not the cause. Nothing avails me-- 190 To speak or to be silent. If I say the truth, Then the daughter of David shall die for her crime, Struck down with stones; yet still it were harder To conceal the sin; forsworn forever I should live my life loathed by all people, 195 By men reviled." Then the maid revealed The work of wonder, and these words she spoke: "Truly I say, by the Son of the Creator The Savior of souls, the Son of God, I tell thee in truth that the time has not been 200 That the embrace of a mortal man I have known On all the earth; but early in life This grace was granted me, that Gabriel came, The high angel of heaven, and hailed me in greeting, In truthful speech: that the Spirit of heaven With his light should illumine me, that life's Glory by me 205 Should be borne, the bright Son, the blessed Child of God, Of the kingly Creator. I am become now his temple, Unspoiled and spotless; the Spirit of comfort Hath his dwelling in me. Endure now no longer Sorrow and sadness, and say eternal thanks 210 To the mighty Son of the Maker, that his mother I have become, Though a maid I remain, and in men's opinion Thou art famed as his father, if fulfillment should come Of the truth that the Prophets foretold of his coming." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .