I

A Roman host descended from the height
Of Kirkstone Pass, rock-walled and roofed with cloud:
Slowly they trod: sudden they cried aloud:
The mists had risen — what met their raptured sight?
A golden vale sun-saturate, on the right,
Nor vexed by storm, nor veiled by flying shroud
Slept 'mid green hills: a rainbow o'er it bowed:
Upon the left, a blue lake laughed in light.
For years embosomed in that gracious valley,
At last those warriors found a stainless bliss;
They wreathed its flowers; in skiff, or bannered galley
They clove its lake; its lawns, its woods they ranged;
Parting, a name they gave it — scarcely changed,
That name survives — " Situs Amabilis."

II

A grateful name, loving and sweet; yet, sweeter
Among our Lady's titles one there is,
One loving more — " Mater Amabilis."
By it, her destined fane ere long shall greet her;
By it, shall souls sore tried for help entreat her,
When fiercer tempests round them rave and hiss
Than those that shake black tarn, or precipice:
For mountain-girdled church what name were meeter?
Ascend, pure walls. Centuries to come shall hear
From hill to hill again her church-bells ringing,
Her " Ave, Stella," cheer the dawn-touched water;
Old men grow young once more, when, tottering near,
They catch the chime of English children singing
Her anthem, " Salve, Redemptoris Mater."