XLV.
REGINA ANGELORUM.
(Spes Cœlestis.)
Their Trial past, more near the Throne,
And rapt thenceforth to holier skies,
Still on that Maid and Babe foreshown
The Elect of Angels fixed their eyes.
A Spirit-galaxy they hung;
A Cross unmeasured, limned in fire
And instinct-shaped, that swayed and swung
On winds of unfulfilled desire.
They worshipped Him, that God made Man;
To Him they spread their hands in power:
Unmarked the exhausted centuries ran:
That trance millennial seemed an hour.
'Twixt Finite things and Infinite
They saw the Patriarch's Ladder thrown;
Saw One Who o'er it moved in light:
They saw, and knelt with foreheads prone.
Make answer, sinless Angels, say
Ye who that hour your God adored
Less strong, less dear, is she this day,
That Mother of your destined Lord?
