alone,
    And how already my last shriek is near,
    Yet still in thee, sinful although and vile,
    My soul keeps all her trust;
    Virgin!  I thee implore
    Let not thy foe have triumph in my fall;
    Remember that our sin made God himself,
    To free us from its chain,
    Within thy virgin womb our image on Him take!

    Virgin! what tears already have I shed,
    Cherish’d what dreams and breathed what prayers in vain
    But for my own worse penance and sure loss;
    Since first on Arno’s shore I saw the light
    Till now, whate’er I sought, wherever turn’d,
    My life has pass’d in torment and in tears,
    For mortal loveliness in air, act, speech,
    Has seized and soil’d my soul: 
    O Virgin! pure and good,
    Delay not till I reach my life’s last year;
    Swifter than shaft and shuttle are, my days
    ’Mid misery and sin
    Have vanish’d all, and now Death only is behind!

    Virgin!  She now is dust, who, living, held
    My heart in grief, and plunged it since in gloom;
    She knew not of my many ills this one,
    And had she known, what since befell me still
    Had been the same, for every other wish
    Was death to me and ill renown for her;
    But, Queen of Heaven, our Goddess—­if to thee
    Such homage be not sin—­
    Virgin! of matchless mind,
    Thou knowest now the whole; and that, which else
    No other can, is nought to thy great power: 
    Deign then my grief to end,
    Thus honour shall be thine, and safe my peace at last!

    Virgin! in whom I fix my every hope,
    Who canst and will’st assist me in great need,
    Forsake me not in this my worst extreme,
    Regard not me but Him who made me thus;
    Let his high image stamp’d on my poor worth
    Towards one so low and lost thy pity move: 
    Medusa spells have made me as a rock
    Distilling a vain flood;
    Virgin! my harass’d heart
    With pure and pious tears do thou fulfil,
    That its last sigh at least may be devout,
    And free from earthly taint,
    As was my earliest vow ere madness fill’d my veins!

    Virgin! benevolent, and foe of pride,
    Ah! let the love of our one Author win,
    Some mercy for a contrite humble heart: 
    For, if her poor frail mortal dust I loved
    With loyalty so wonderful and long,
    Much more my faith and gratitude for thee. 
    From this my present sad and sunken state
    If by thy help I rise,
    Virgin! to thy dear name
    I consecrate and cleanse my thoughts, speech, pen,
    My mind, and heart with all its tears and sighs;
    Point then that better path,
    And with complacence view my changed desires at last.

    The day must come, nor distant far its date,
    Time flies so swift and sure,
    O peerless and alone! 
    When death my heart, now conscience struck, shall seize: 
    Commend me, Virgin! then to thy dear Son,
    True God and Very Man,
    That my last sigh in peace may, in his arms, be breathed!