XLIII.
Thy sad, sweet hymn, at eve, the seas along,—
Oh! the deep soul it breathed!—the love, the woe,
The fervour, pour’d in that full gush of song,
As it went floating through the fiery glow
Of the rich sunset!—bringing thoughts of Spain,
With all their vesper voices, o’er the main,
Which seem’d responsive in its murmuring flow.
“Ave sanctissima!”—how oft that lay
Hath melted from my heart the martyr strength away!
Ave, sanctissima!
’Tis nightfall on the sea;
Ora pro nobis!
Our souls rise to thee!
Watch us, while shadows lie
O’er the dim waters spread;
Hear the heart’s lonely sigh—
Thine too hath bled!
Thou that hast look’d on death,
Aid us when death is near!
Whisper of heaven to faith;
Sweet Mother, hear!
Ora pro nobis!
The wave must rock our sleep,
Ora, Mater, ora!
Thou star of the deep!