Dolorosa

All hushed beneath the holy rood,

Save the low sobs of her who stood

With claspèd hand uplift in prayer,

Wailing -- in deep despair!

Suddenly, on silent wing,

A quiv'ring bird (a tender thing)

Up from the dark'ning valley soared

Into the right hand of the Lord: --

With frantic wrench of bill and claw

It sought the cruel nail to draw

Out of the bruised and bleeding hand

That saved us all!

Panting -- stained with the Sacred Blood,

It ceased and clinging to the rood,

Sang unto her, who weeping stood,

This plaintive song of sorrow: --

"Dolorosa, et Lacrymosa, O Maria,

Stans juxta crucem Domini!"

The Virgin, startled by the sound,

Rushed to the Cross -- and stood, spell-bound,

With arms outstretched and anxious ear,

Listening in mingled hope and fear;

Watching -- in agony intense --

Watching the Lord -- in dread suspense --

Her soul all-pending on those lips

She thought had moved! --

She gazed -- when lo, on silent wing,

The tender bird (the piteous thing)

Up to the crimson heaven soar'd

Out of the right hand of the Lord;

And, hov'ring o'er the sacred rood

Where still the heart-rent mother stood,

Poured forth once more its touching flood

Of plaintive song and sorrow: --

"Dolorosa, et Lacrymosa, O Maria,

Stans juxta crucem Domini!"