XLIV.

“_Ora pro nobis, Mater!_”--What a spell Was in those notes, with day’s last glory dying On the flush’d waters--seem’d they not to swell From the far dust wherein my sires were lying With crucifix and sword? Oh! yet how clear Comes their reproachful sweetness to mine ear! “_Ora_”--with all the purple waves replying, All my youth’s visions rising in the strain-- And I had thought it much to bear the rack and chain!