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surge, surge, non edaci
temporis rodenda dente,
non caduco saeculorum
labili terenda fluxu.
Celsa moles finde sulcos
aerisque nubiumque
proximum superbo tactu
verticis lacesse coelum.
Nulla mugiat procella,
turbo nullus, nullus Auster
turbulentas quassat alas,
pulchra dum moles resurgit.
Orbis o beate victor,*[1]
Hesperi vetusta proles,
hanc tibi quaterna sacram
turba devovet sororum
praesidum telluris almae.
Erigitque consecratque
grata tellus igne festo,
dum tuos agit triumphos.
Magne victor, bellicosa*[2]
cresce semper prole felix
bellaque victrix Iesu
auspicatis tentet armis.
Mille Iesu subdat orbes,
mille proles crescat annis,
MYS. -Quid huc fugaces admoves gressus Chrone,
cur acre stipant mobiles horae latus?