She had a vision in the dark
Ere the first lark from nest took flight;
She saw her own son from fierce strife
Win to new Life and new Delight.
The clouds were tattered round his head
As sore bested he fought his foe,
Where in the conflict he was ta’en
And slain — she did not see it so.
She saw indeed his bitter case
In that sad place, parched, without shade,
And how her Christian Knight must fall
In Paynim thrall, should Heaven not aid.
But now what light burns in the cloud?
What voices loud against his ear?
St. Andrew and St. Patrick ride
Close by his side; St. George is near.
His banner floats upon the breeze,
Like a gold fleece it wraps him round —
So, cap-à-pie from head to knee,
His enemy he strikes to ground.
He’s won the day, he’s won the day!
See the light play upon his brow!
Brave in his armour and upright
The Christian Knight is riding now.
She had that vision of her son
When by the moon asleep she lay —
And woke to singing birds and dew,
And knew that it was Easter Day.
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