III.

O happy senses of the Virgin Blessed Standing the cross of Calvary beneath— So winning martyrdom without its death— Queen of all martyrs evermore confessed! O happy Pontiff! wear’st thou not to-day Beneath the triple crown one wrought of thorn? So crowned for love thou hast unfailing borne To thy pure spouse the faithless would betray? Art thou not martyr, too, by that deep woe Thou sharest with our Queen Immaculate? About thee rise the cries of blinded hate, Thou seest afresh the wounds of Jesus flow; His cross thy palm, his words sublime thine too— “Father, forgive; they know not what they do.”