I <br /> <br />Lady and Queen and Mystery manifold <br />And very Regent of the untroubled sky, <br />Whom in a dream St. Hilda did behold <br />And heard a woodland music passing by: <br />You shall receive me when the clouds are high <br />With evening and the sheep attain the fold. <br />This is the faith that I have held and hold, <br />And this is that in which I mean to die. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Steep are the seas and savaging and cold <br />In broken waters terrible to try; <br />And vast against the winter night the wold, <br />And harbourless for any sail to lie. <br />But you shall lead me to the lights, and I <br />Shall hymn you in a harbour story told. <br />This is the faith that I have held and hold, <br />And this is that in which I mean to die. <br /> <br />III <br /> <br />Help of the half-defeated, House of gold, <br />Shrine of the Sword, and Tower of Ivory; <br />Splendour apart, supreme and aureoled, <br />The Battler's vision and the World's reply. <br />You shall restore me, O my last Ally, <br />To vengence and the glories of the bold. <br />This is the faith that I have held and hold, <br />And this is that in which I mean to die. <br /> <br />Envoi <br /> <br />Prince of the degradations, bought and sold, <br />These verses, written in your crumbling sty, <br />Proclaim the faith that I have held and hold <br />And publish that in which I mean to die.<br /><br />Hilaire Belloc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-to-our-lady-of-czestochowa/
