Poema sacrum, in diem purificationis, augustissimae Dei genitricis Mariae

Fierce Mars yields to you, and bloody

Terrified, the Stygian phalanxes soon flee you, and the cohorts of Pluto flee. You, putting the shades to flight, lay waste the

The sailor, with you as guide, leads his intact ship through rapid waves, and governs with oars; he, happy and alert, reaches the

If our boat is ever agitated by marine waves and southern winds, you, Mary, soon shine there for us like a broad

We head eagerly to the longed-for shores through the sea, avoiding in our ship the Syrtes sandbanks and the cliffs of Scylla, and we flee the foul

For you alone are a quiet port to fearful sailors; you are peace, salvation, and a refuge to the miserable farmer calling

The traveler takes the way as a companion with you, and a safe journey through the inhospitable Caucasus, or where the places of the dead

Divine one, you are an Altar to us who are timid, a strength and a Tower, in dark shadows the clear light of the world, and a shining