S. Maria Maior: the Himn, O gloriosa Domina

Hail, most high, most humble one!
Aboue the world, below thy Son;
Whose blush the moon beauteously marres
And staines the timerous light of stares.
He that made all things, had not done
Till He had made Himself thy Son:
The whole World's host would be thy guest
And board Himself at thy rich brest.
O boundles hospitality!
The Feast of all things feeds on thee.
The first Eue, mother of our Fall,
E're she bore any one, slew all.
Of her vnkind gift might we haue
Th' inheritance of a hasty grave:
Quick-burye'd in the wanton tomb
Of one forbidden bitt;
Had not a better frvit forbidden it.
Had not thy healthfull womb
The World's new eastern window bin,
And giuen vs heau'n again, in giuing Him.
Thine was the rosy dawn, that spring the Day
Which renders all the starres she stole away.
Let then the aged World be wise, and all
Proue nobly here vnnaturall;
'Tis gratitude to forgett that other
And call the maiden Eue their mother.
Yee redeem'd nations farr and near,
Applaud your happy selues in her;
(All you to whom this loue belongs)
And keep't aliue with lasting songs.
Let hearts and lippes speak lowd; and say
Hail, door of life: and sourse of Day!
The door was shut, the fountain seal'd;
Yet Light was seen and Life reueal'd.
The door was shut, yet let in day,
The fountain seal'd, yet life found way.
Glory to Thee, great virgin's Son
In bosom of Thy Father's blisse.
The same to Thee, sweet Spirit be done;
As euer shall be, was, and is. Amen.