 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
114
LXXI. THE FIFTH DOLOUR.
(Beside the Cross.)
She stood in silence. Slowly passed
The hours whose moments dropped in blood:
Its frown the Darkness further cast:
She moved not: silently she stood.
The hours whose moments dropped in blood:
Its frown the Darkness further cast:
She moved not: silently she stood.
No human sympathy she sought:
Her help was God, and God alone;
Not even the instinctive respite caught
From passionate gesture, sigh or moan.
Her help was God, and God alone;
Not even the instinctive respite caught
From passionate gesture, sigh or moan.
Her silence listened. On the air
Like death-bells tolled that prime Decree
Which bade the Eternal Victim bear
Man's Sin primeval. Let it be!
Like death-bells tolled that prime Decree
Which bade the Eternal Victim bear
Man's Sin primeval. Let it be!
The Women round her heard all day
The clash of arms, the scoffing tongue:
She heard the breaking of that spray
Whereon the fruit of Knowledge hung.
The clash of arms, the scoffing tongue:
She heard the breaking of that spray
Whereon the fruit of Knowledge hung.
Behold the Babe of Bethlehem! Ay!
The Infant slumbered on thy breast;
And thou that heard'st His earliest cry
Must hear His ‘Consummatum est.’
The Infant slumbered on thy breast;
And thou that heard'st His earliest cry
Must hear His ‘Consummatum est.’
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