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 G.o.d, 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.

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_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 G.o.d.

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.

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_Mater Dolorosa._

XIV.

From her He pa.s.sed: 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 pa.s.sed.

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_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 rehea.r.s.ed, (As they in bird, and bud, and spray).

Thine Ant.i.type? 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!

{20}

_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.