Where stands the Virgin Mother’s holy shrine;
And trod with them the steep romantic paths
That wound by rushing waters, and through vales
No sunbeams ever pierced. Full many a dale
Seemed by the lofty mountains sternly closed,
Until the narrow path had reached its base,
And then a sharply sudden turn displayed
O’erhanging rocks, young groves, and rivulets,
That sparkling cheered the wanderer’s weary way,
Till at the last the summit’s airy height,