Classic Poem

Hail, Full of grace, alway;
Mary, thy goodness show;
Have pity, and to Christ for pity go,
For this fair city to such woe a prey.

Mary, in mercy spare;
Ah, turn thy pitying eyes on us below;
Look on thy city fair,
That ne'er was yet so agonised in woe;
Have pity, and to Christ for pity go,
That he would peace restore:
Have mercy, I implore,
On this fair city to such woe a prey.

Mercy and peace serene,
Mary, thy Florence doth entreat of thee;
Ah, from rebellion wean
The afflicted people by thy clemency;
No fiercer plague can be
Than discord wild:
Ah, pity, Mary mild,
On this fair city to such woe a prey.

For charity is dead,
Faith quenched, and justice banished hence to fly;
Pride is our rule instead;
In luxury and envy each doth vie,
Mary; for help we cry
By innocence besought:
Ah, take a pitying thought
Of this fair city to such woe a prey.

For save thy mercy be
Our shield, sweet Mary, from all peril sore,
No other shield have we;
Then in thy pity, from thy Son implore
Of aid and counsel store,
Wherein our safety lies:
Ah, be thy goodness touched in tender wise
By this fair city to such woe a prey.