Part 17 (1/2)

Not that great love of thine, whose beams Transcended in their virtuous heat Those suns which melt the ice-bound streams, And make earth's pulses newly beat:--

It was not these that from the sky Drew down to thee the Eternal Word: He looked on thy humility; He knew thee, ”Handmaid of thy Lord.”

Let no one claim with thee a part; Let no one, Mary, name thy name, While, aping G.o.d, upon his heart Pride sits, a demon robed in flame.

Proud Vices, die! Where Sin has place Be Sin's familiar self-disgust.

Proud Virtues, doubly die; that Grace At last may burgeon from your dust.

{107}

_Respexit Humilitatem._

XX.

Supreme among the things create Omnipotence revealed below, More swift than thought, more strong than fate, Such, such, Humility, art thou!

All strength beside is weakness. Might Belongs to G.o.d: and they alone, Self-emptied souls and seeming-slight, Are filled with G.o.d and share his throne.

O Mary! strong wert thou and meek; Thy meekness gave thee strength divine: Thyself in nothing didst thou seek; Therefore thy Maker made Him thine.

Through Pride our parents disobeyed; Rebellious Sense avenged the crime: The soul, the body's captive made, Became the branded thrall of time.

{108}

With barrenness the earth was cursed; Inviolate she brought forth no more Her fruits, nor freely as at first:-- Thou cam'st, her Eden to restore!

Low breathes the wind upon the string; The harp, responsive, sounds in turn: Thus o'er thy Soul the Spirit's wing Creative pa.s.sed; and Christ was born.

{109}

_”Sine Labe originali Concepta.”_

XXI.

Met in a point [Footnote 7] the circles twain Of temporal and eternal things Embrace, close linked. Redemption's chain Drops thence to earth its myriad rings.

[Footnote 7: The Incarnation.]

In either circle, from of old, That point of meeting stood decreed;-- Twin mysteries cast in one deep mould, ”The Woman,” and ”the Woman's Seed.”

Mary, long ages ere thy birth Resplendent with Salvation's Sign, In thee a stainless hand the earth Put forth, to meet the Hand Divine!

First trophy of all-conquering Grace, First victory of that Blood all pure, Of man's once fair but fallen race Thou stood'st, the monument secure.

The Word made Fles.h.!.+ the Way! the Door!

The link that dust with G.o.dhead blends!