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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
Listening that voice the maid had knelt. It ceased.
She rose and spake: ‘Great Alexandrian Saint,
Catherine! Full well I recognize that voice
Which drew to Christ the famed Egyptian seers.
Of all the legends in that blazoned book
I love that tale the best. I see thee not;
But when I hear that Voice I dream that Face,
That smile which o'er it spreads, while slowly, slowly,
That Babe, forth leaning from His Mother's arms,
Adown thy finger draws His bridal ring.
Thy mandate I obey.’
She rose and spake: ‘Great Alexandrian Saint,
Catherine! Full well I recognize that voice
Which drew to Christ the famed Egyptian seers.
Of all the legends in that blazoned book
I love that tale the best. I see thee not;
But when I hear that Voice I dream that Face,
That smile which o'er it spreads, while slowly, slowly,
That Babe, forth leaning from His Mother's arms,
Adown thy finger draws His bridal ring.
Thy mandate I obey.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |