W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.

The Virgin Mary Visiting Elizabeth

From the Parisian Breviary

Translated by Isaac Williams

YE mountains, bend ye low,

O’er which the Virgin flies,

To whom the starry skies

Would their glad summits bow.

In maiden fear conceal’d,

Long hid in quiet home,

She now abroad doth come,

With charity her shield.

She flies without delay,—

She flies from human eyes,—

Not to be seen, she flies,

And fears lest aught betray.

Blest earth, whereon she trod,

Put forth your fragrance sweet;—

Blest hills, that felt her feet,

The mother with her God.

More blest ye friends, whose guest

She now doth silence break,

Of heavenly things to speak,

And where her footsteps rest.

The Father, who doth send,

The Son, who saves the lost,

The guiding Holy Ghost,

We praise Thee without end.