John Philip Newman

“(A Song)There sat a Lady all on the ground,Rays of the morning circled her round,Save thee, and hail to thee, Gracious and Fair,In the chill twilight what wouldst thou there?'Here I sit desolate,' sweetly said she,'Though I'm a queen, and my name is Marie:Robbers have rifled my garden and store,Foes they have stolen my heir from my bower. 'They said they could keep Him far better than I,In a palace all His, planted deep and raised high.'Twas a palace of ice, hard and cold as were they,And when summer came, it all melted away.'Next would they barter Him, Him the Supreme,For the spice of the desert, and gold of the stream;And me they bid wander in weeds and alone,In this green merry land which once was my own.'I look'd on that Lady, and out from her eyesCame the deep glowing blue of Italy's skies; And she raised up her head and she smiled, as a QueenOn the day of her crowning, so bland and serene.'A moment,' she said, 'and the dead shall revive;The giants are failing, the Saints are alive;I am coming to rescue my home and my reign,And Peter and Philip are close in my train.””