Dislocations and discolourations,
And gush of bright gore, not in vain
Shall awake in me languid sensations,
Our Lady of Pain!
Thus I roam through the universe vasty,
O’er mountain, vale, meadow, and wood;
And I venerate all that is nasty,
And gird against all that is good;
In the mire my delight is to linger,
Although I to the heights might attain: