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| XLV. | XLV.
ORANTE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XLV. ORANTE.
She mused upon the Saints of old;
Rock-like, on rock she stood, foot-bare:
On Him she mused, that Child foretold;
To Him she held her hands in prayer,
Rock-like, on rock she stood, foot-bare:
On Him she mused, that Child foretold;
To Him she held her hands in prayer,
Unwavering hands that, drawing fires
Of grace from heaven, our earth endowed
With heavenly breath like mountain spires
That suck the lightning from the cloud.
Of grace from heaven, our earth endowed
With heavenly breath like mountain spires
That suck the lightning from the cloud.
No moment passed without its crown;
And each new grace was used so well
It dragged some tenfold talent down,
Some miracle on miracle.
And each new grace was used so well
It dragged some tenfold talent down,
Some miracle on miracle.
O golden House! O boundless store
Of wealth by heavenly commerce won!
When God Himself could give no more,
He gave thee all; He gave His Son!
Of wealth by heavenly commerce won!
When God Himself could give no more,
He gave thee all; He gave His Son!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |