Poema sacrum, in diem purificationis, augustissimae Dei genitricis Mariae

The powerless tongue, coming to pray so that it might be able to resound your praises, retreats, gratefully bringing back the gifts of a human voice. You gently hear those destitute of help, you free those from the limbs, from the highest shadows, and from the lowest shades; with your help, the deaf also hears well. And you open a safe asylum to the miserable in hard things, and you do not abandon those who revere your name and adorn it with praises. You cherish our town, given to you with singular worship, under your wings, so that plague, pestilence, and the vice of morals might not defile it itself. Drive away from our borders hostile weapons, force, iron, wasting sickness, and fever; drink in the foamy jaws of Lions, destroy the Dragons. Ask for us the favor of the Offspring; give a pious mind, pure from harmful things; let a purer breast shine like gold refined by fires. And reveal the way of the blessed Life, so that our soul, freed from hard chains, might at last hold the highest summits of the ether.