Poland - Italy - Hungary

In the great Darkness of the Passion, graves Were oped, and many Saints which slept arose. So in this latter Darkness, which doth close Upon our noon. That Peace Divine which saves And blesses, and from the celestial waves Of whose now-parted garment our worst woes Did touch a healing virtue, by our foes Is crucified. The inextricable slaves Have slain what should have set them free. Behold The vail is rent! Earth yawns; the rocks are hurled In twain; and Kingdoms long since low and cold, Each with his dead forgotten brow enfurled In that proud flag he fell upon of old, Come forth into the City of the World.