The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
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AVE MARIA. |
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 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
154
AVE MARIA.
There is a maiden at my side
Who bids my frozen heart forget
Philosophy with all its pride,
And sing a sweet duet.
Who bids my frozen heart forget
Philosophy with all its pride,
And sing a sweet duet.
“Come, join your deeper voice to mine;
And though the subject of the song
Seem to your conscience not divine,
It surely is not wrong
And though the subject of the song
Seem to your conscience not divine,
It surely is not wrong
To sing the music that you feel
To words that only aid the sound.”—
Her voice was like a ringing peal
From consecrated ground,
To words that only aid the sound.”—
Her voice was like a ringing peal
From consecrated ground,
That comes with music o'er the fields,
Where through a lonely soul it flows—
A soul that hesitates and yields,
Till with the crowd it goes,
Where through a lonely soul it flows—
A soul that hesitates and yields,
Till with the crowd it goes,
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And has not strength to think alone,
Or resolution to withstand
The calling of a pleasant tone
Into a dreamy land.
Or resolution to withstand
The calling of a pleasant tone
Into a dreamy land.
I sang in Rome's forgotten tongue
The prayer I knew was false and vain;
But round my weakened heart was flung
A bright and pleasant chain.
The prayer I knew was false and vain;
But round my weakened heart was flung
A bright and pleasant chain.
I yielded all that once I knew;
I never struggled in the snare;
But sang the hymn and thought it true,
Converted unaware.
I never struggled in the snare;
But sang the hymn and thought it true,
Converted unaware.
Idolaters may be forgiven,
Aids to devotion have their worth;
My hymn was to a maid in heaven
Addressed to one on earth.
Aids to devotion have their worth;
My hymn was to a maid in heaven
Addressed to one on earth.
I looked upon her all the while;
I searched the scripture of her eyes,
For my religion was her smile,
Her thoughts its mysteries.
I searched the scripture of her eyes,
For my religion was her smile,
Her thoughts its mysteries.
Though my affections were above,
Still as devout adorers do,
I sang to Mary hymns of love,
And kissed her image too.
Still as devout adorers do,
I sang to Mary hymns of love,
And kissed her image too.
| The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth | |