Set foot upon her native plain;
Knelt on the pier with modest grace,
And turned to heaven her beauteous face.
’Twas then the caps in air were blended,
A thousand thousand shouts ascended,
Shivered the breeze around the throng,
Gray barrier cliffs the peals prolong;
And every tongue gave thanks to heaven,
That Mary to their hopes was given.
Her comely form and graceful mien