SONNET IX.
Mourn, mourn, voice of the wilderness!
For Him who shed His precious blood for me:
Jesu Redemptor! Lamb of Calvary!
The heir of glory, anguish and distress;
Oh! how shall mortal tongue the love express
With which Thou didst so love us, as to be
Our sacrifice upon the accursed tree,
Bearing the burden of our wickedness.
O ye wild winds! and wilder blasts that wail
Amid the ebon darkness, have ye known
Man's dark iniquity that thus ye moan
In hollow accents through the lonely vale?
Alas! my soul, thy sins slew God's dear Son:
Kyrie eleeson! Christe eleeson!