Ascending from the convent-grates,
The children mount the woodland vale.
‘ Tis May-Day Eve; and Hesper waits
To light them, while the western gale
Blows softly on their bannered line:
And, lo! down all the mountain stairs
The shepherd children come to join
The convent children at their prayers.
They meet before Our Lady's fane:
On yonder central rock it stands,
Uplifting, ne'er invoked in vain,
That cross which blesses all the lands.
Before the porch the flowers are flung;
The lamp hangs glittering‘ neath the Rood;
The “Maris Stella” hymn is sung;
Their chant each morn to be renewed.
Ah! if a secular muse might dare,
Far off, the children's song to catch;
To echo back, or burthen bear!—
As fitly might she hope to match
The linnet's note as theirs,‘ tis true:
Yet, now and then, that borrowed tone,
Like sunbeams flashed on pine or yew,
Might shoot a sweetness through her own!