Before the morn began to break
The bright One bent above that pair
Whose childless vows aspired to take
The mother of their Lord for heir.
‘ Twas August: even in midnight shade
The roofs were hot, and hot the street:—
“Build me a fane,” the vision said,
“Where first your eyes the snow shall meet.”
With snow the Esquiline was strewn
At morn!— Fair Legend! who but thinks
Of thee, when first the breezes blown
From summer Alp to Alp he drinks?
He stands: he hears the torrents dash:
Slowly the vapours break; and lo!
Through chasms of endless azure flash
The peaks of everlasting snow.
He stands; he listens; on his ear
Swells softly forth some virgin hymn:
The white procession windeth near,
With glimmering lights in sunshine dim.
Mother of Purity and Peace!
They sing the Saviour's name and thine
Clothe them for ever with the fleece
Unspotted of thy Lamb Divine!