NEVER BEFORE PRINTED.
NOTE.
It is my great privilege to be the first to print the following extensive additions to the Epigrammata Sacra of Crashaw. They are wholly derived from Archbishop Sancroft's MS. in the Bodleian, as described in our Preface (Vol. I. p. xx.-xxiii.) and in the Preface to the present Volume. For their relation to those published by the Author himself and in the editions of 1634 and 1670, see our Essay, as before. As with Crashaw's own collection (of 1634), the Epigrams seem to have been composed and written down on the spur of the moment as a subject struck him, and hence there is the same absence of arrangement: nor is it much to be lamented, seeing that each is independent. As a rule, I follow the order of the manuscript. For translations of fifteen of these fifty-five Epigrams, viz. Nos. 8, 9, 19, 24, 26, 32, 34, 35, 39, 46, 48, 49, 51, 52, 53, and 55, I am indebted, as for so much more throughout, to my excellent poet-friend the Rev. Richard Wilton, M.A., as before: for the others, in Fuller's phrase, 'my meanness is responsible,' except in a few instances wherein Crashaw has himself furnished renderings, or at least little poems less or more corresponding with the Latin; as pointed out in the places. G.
Decoration P
I.
Act. xxviii. 3.
Paule, nihil metuas, non fert haec vipera virus:
Virtutem vestrae vult didicisse manus.
Oscula, non morsus; supplex, non applicat hostis.
Nec metuenda venit, sed miseranda magis.
St. Paul and the viper.
Paul, fear thou nought; no poison bears this asp:
It seeks to learn the virtue of thy hand.
Not as a foe, but suppliant, it would clasp;
Not fear, but pity, it would fain command. G.
II.
Joan. vi. 14, 26.
Jam credunt, Deus es: Deus est, qui teste palato,
Quique ipso demum est judice dente Deus.
Scilicet haec sapiunt miracula: de quibus alvus
Proficere, et possit pingue latus fluere.
Haec sua fecisti populo miracula credunt.
Gens pia, et in ventrem relligiosa suum!
The miracle of the loaves.
Now truly they believe that Thou art God!—
God witnessÈd by palate and by tooth!—
They know the smack of miracles that load
And swell their paunches; yea, believe, forsooth.
To a most pious race, Lord, Thou appealest,
And stomachs most believing Thou revealest. G.
III.
In lacrymas Christi patientis.
Saeve dolor! potes hoc? oculos quoque perpluis istos?
O quam non meritas haec arat unda genas!
O lacrymas ego flere tuas, ego dignior istud,
Quod tibi cunque cadit roris, habere meum.
Siccine? me tibi flere tuas! ah, mi bone Jesu,
Si possem lacrymas vel mihi flere meas!
Flere meas? immo immo tuas, hoc si modo possem:
Non possem lacrymas, non ego flere meas.
Flere tuas est flere meas, tua lacryma, Christe,
Est mea vel lacryma est si tua, causa mea est.
Of the tears of the suffering Christ.
O cruel Pain! I ask thee how
Thou canst do what thou'rt doing now?
Dost thou also—or is't my fears?—
Drench His sweet eyes with scalding tears?
O how that show'r furrows amain
His undeserving cheek, as rain!
More meet it were that I should know
The tears that from His anguish flow:
More meet it were that I should feel
All dews that down His wan cheek steal:
O is it thus? Would that it were!
That I might weep Thy laden tear:
Yea, blessÈd Jesus, would that I
For mine own self could weeping lie:
Mine own tears weep? nay, they are Thine,
For all Thy tears, alas, are mine.
Ah, not a tear that Thou didst shed,
When sorrow bow'd Thy sacred head,
But came of human woe or guilt,
For which at last Thy Blood was spilt;
And even if the tears were Thine,
Being for my sake, they're rather mine. G.
IV.
In sepulcrum Domini. Joan. xix. 38-42.
Jam cedant, veteris cedant miracula saxi,
Unde novus subito fluxerat amne latex.
Tu felix rupes, ubi se lux tertia tollet,
Flammarum sacro fonte superba flues.
The sepulchre of the Lord.
Yield place, ye wonders of the ancient stone
Whence sudden-gushing streams were seen to flow:
When the third day, blest rock, on thee has shone,
Proudly with fount of sacred fire thou'lt glow. G.
V.
Ubi amorem praecipit. Joan. xiii. 14.
Sic magis in numeros morituraque carmina vivit
Dulcior extrema voce caducus olor;
Ut tu inter strepitus odii, et tua funera, Jesu,
Totus amor liquido totus amore sonas.
The parting words of Love.
E'en as the dying swan, sweeter for failing breath,
Dies not, but rather lives, in her last wistful song,
Dost Thou, Lord, mid hate's din and close-approaching death,
As Love, with melting voice, Thy dying love prolong. G.
VI.
Act. xii. 23.
Euge, Deus—pleno populus fremit undique plausu—
Certe non hominem vox sonat, euge, Deus!
Sed tamen iste Deus qui sit, vos dicite, vermes,
Intima turba illi; vos fovet ille sinu.
Herod devoured of worms.
Behold a god! full-voic'd the people cry;
Not man, but god, with shouts they him attest.
What kind of god he is, ye worms, reply—
A crowd that know the secrets of his breast. G.
VII.
Bonum est nobis esse hic.
Cur cupis hic adeo, dormitor Petre, manere?
Somnia non alibi tam bona, Petre, vides.
It is good to be here.
Why seek'st thou, drowsy Peter, here to stay?
Elsewhere such pleasant dreams thou see'st not, eh?[88] G.
VIII.
Videte lilia agrorum ... nec Salomon, &c. Matt. vi. 29.
Candide rex campi, cui floris eburnea pompa est,
Deque nivis fragili vellere longa toga;
Purpureus Salomon impar tibi dicitur esto.
Nempe, quod est melius, par fuit ille rosis.
Look on the lilies of the field ... not Solomon, &c.
O fairest monarch of the enamell'd field,
Whose is the blossom'd pomp of ivory splendour,
And whose the fleeces, snowy-white, which yield
Long-flowing robes immaculate and tender.
Ah, not like lilies—'tis divinely spoken—
Was Solomon, with sin encrimsonÈd;
But not unlike—and 'tis a better token—
Roses tear-wash'd, which hang the blushing head. R. Wi.
IX.
Marc. vii. 33, 36.
Voce manuque simul linguae tu, Christe, ciendae:
Sistendae nudis vocibus usus eras.
Sane at lingua equus est pronis effusus habenis:
Vox ciet, at sistit non nisi tota manus.
The deaf healed.
To wake the tongue—voice, hand too, Christ would use;
To check it, but a bare word of command.
Really, the tongue is as a horse rein'd-loose—
Starts at a word, stay'd only with strong hand. R. Wi.
X.
In beatae Virginis verecundiam.
Non est hoc matris, sed, crede, modestia nati,
Quod virgo in gremium dejicit ora suum.
Illic jam Deus est, oculus jam Virginis ergo,
Ut coelum videat, dejiciendus erit.
The modesty of the blessed Virgin.
Not humbleness of mother, but of Child,
Shines in the downward gaze of Virgin mild.
The Virgin gazes where her God doth lie:
She must look down that Heaven may meet her eye. G.
XI.
Mitto vos sicut agnos in medio luporum.
Hos quoque, an hos igitur saevi lacerabitis agnos?
Hic saltem, hic vobis non licet esse lupis.
At sceleris nulla est clementia, at ergo scietis,
Agnus qui nunc est, est aliquando Leo.
I send you as lambs in the midst of wolves.
These lambs also, e'en these, will ye, then, fiercely tear?
Here to be wolves, at least here, ye will never dare.
Alas, the wicked still are cruel; but ye'll learn
He Who is now a Lamb will one day Lion turn. G.
XII.
Christus a daemone vectus. Matt. iv.
Ergo ille, angelicis Ô sarcina dignior alis,
Praepete sic Stygio, sic volet ille vehi.
Pessime! nec laetare tamen tu scilicet inde,
Non minus es daemon, non minus ille Deus.
Christ carried by the devil.
Will He—O burden worthier angels' wings!—
Deign to be carried by swift fiend of hell?
Vilest! to thee this no advancement brings;
He no less God, thou no less demon fell. G.
XIII.
Joan. i. 23.
Vox ego sum, dicis: tu vox es, sancte Joannes?
Si vox es, sterilis cur tibi mater erat?
Quam fuit ista tuae mira infoecundia matris!
In vocem sterilis rarior esse solet.
St. John the Baptist a voice.
'I am a voice, a voice,' says holy John.
If so, how should thy mother barren be?
This is unfruitfulness to muse upon;
Tongue-barren women we so seldom see! G.
XIV.
Vox Joannes, Christus Verbum.
Monstrat Joannes Christum, haud res mira videtur:
Vox unus, verbum scilicet alter erat.
Christus Joanne est prior, haec res mira videtur:
Voce sua verbum non solet esse prius.
John the Voice, Christ the Word.
John points out Christ; no wonder this we deem:
One is a Voice, the other is the Word.
Christ is before John; wondrous this may seem;
For when was word before a voice e'er heard? G.
XV.
In natales Domini pastoribus nuntiatos. Luc. ii. 8-19.
Ad te sydereis, ad te, bone Tityre, pennis
Purpureus juvenis gaudia tanta vehit.
O bene te vigilem, cui gaudia tanta feruntur,
Ut neque dum vigilas, te vigilare putes.
Quem sic monstrari voluit pastoribus aether,
Pastor an agnus erat? Pastor et agnus erat.
Ipse Deus cum Pastor erit, quis non erit agnus?
Quis non pastor erit, cum Deus agnus erit?
On the birth of the Lord announced to the shepherds.
shepherd To thee, good Tityrus, on starry wings
The royal angel such 'glad tidings' brings.
Surely the happy watcher never thought
That he was watching when such joys were brought.
And He, Whom thus the heavenly host reveal'd
To shepherds 'mid their flocks in open field,
Tell me, was He a Shepherd or a Lamb?
Shepherd and Lamb at once; He took each name.
Since, then, our God a Shepherd's name doth wear,
The name of lamb who will not wish to bear?
And who will not be shepherd, since God deigns
To be a Lamb, for suffering of sin's pains? G.
XVI.
In Atheniensem merum. Act. xvii. 28.
Ipsos naturae thalamos sapis, imaque rerum
Concilia, et primae quicquid agunt tenebrae,
Quid dubitet refluum mare, quid vaga sydera volvant;
Christus et est studiis res aliena tuis.
Sic scire, est tantum nescire loquacius illa:
Qui nempe illa sapit sola, nec illa sapit.
Of the 'blue-blood' pride of the Athenians.
Thou knowest Nature's secret things
And all her deepest counsellings—
All wonders of the primal Night
Conceal'd from prying human sight;
Knowest how the sea-tide pauses,
The wandering stars too in their causes.
But while to thee, in all else wise,
Christ from thy thoughts an alien lies,
In earthly studies to advance
Is but loquacious ignorance;
And he whose wisdom is but such,
Of those things even knows not much.
O, study thou beneath the Cross,
Or all thy labour is but loss! G.
XVII.
Ego vitis vera. Joan. xv. 1.
Credo quidem, sed et hoc hostis te credidit ipse
Caiaphas, et Judas credidit ipse, reor.
Unde illis, Jesu, vitis nisi vera fuisses,
Tanta tui potuit sanguinis esse sitis?
I am the True Vine.
'Believe!' e'en Caiaphas, thy foe, believÈd
Thee the True Vine; and Judas too, I think.
Had they not, Lord, Thee as True Vine receivÈd,
Could they have thirsted so Thy Blood to drink? G.
XVIII.
Abscessum Christi queruntur Discipuli.
Ille abiit, jamque Ô quae nos mala cunque manetis,
Sistite jam in nostras tela parata neces.
Sistite; nam quibus haec vos olim tela paratis,
Abscessu Domini jam periere sui.
The departure of Christ lamented by the Disciples.
The Lord is gone; and now, all evils dire,
Hold back the darts which for our death you flourish:
Yea, hold them back, nor waste on us your ire,
For with our Lord's departure, lo, we perish. G.
XIX.
In descensum Spiritus Sancti. Act. ii. 1-4.
Quae vehit auratos nubes dulcissima nimbos?
Quis mitem pluviam lucidus imber agit?
Agnosco, nostros haec nubes abstulit ignes:
Haec nubes in nos jam redit igne pari.
O nubem gratam et memorem, quae noluit ultra
Tam saeve de se nos potuisse queri!
O bene; namque alio non posset rore rependi,
Coelo exhalatum quod modo terra dedit.
On the descent of the Holy Spirit.
What sweetest cloud comes wafting golden shower?
What gentle raindrops bring their shining dower?
The cloud which stole our flame, our heart's desire,
This very cloud returns with equal fire.
O kindly-mindful cloud, which could not brook
That we should mourn thee with so sad a look!
'Tis well; no other dew had countervail'd
That which from earth to heaven was late exhal'd. R. Wi.
XX.
Act. x. 39.
Quis malus appendit de mortis stipite vitam?
O malus agricola, hoc inseruisse fuit?
Immo, quis appendit vitae hac ex arbore mortem?
O bonus Agricola, hoc inseruisse fuit.
What wicked one affix'd Life to Death's tree?
O wretched gard'ner, call'st thou this engrafting?
Nay, tell me who affix'd Death to Life's tree?
O noble Gard'ner, this I call engrafting. G.
XXI.
Ego sum Ostium. Joan. x. 9.
Jamque pates, cordisque seram gravis hasta reclusit,
Et clavi claves undique te reserant.
Ah, vereor, sibi ne manus impia clauserit illas,
Quae coeli has ausa est sic aperire fores.
I am the Doore.
And now th' art set wide ope; the speare's sad art,
Lo, hath unlockt Thee at the very heart.
He to himselfe—I feare the worst—
And his owne hope,
Hath shut these doores of heaven, that durst
Thus set them ope. Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Now Thou art open wide; the barrier dear
Of Thy great heart unclos'd by cruel spear;
And nails as keys unlock Thee everywhere.
Ah, he whose wicked hand thus forc'd the gate
Of heaven, perhaps at heaven's shut door will wait
One day, with outer darkness for his fate. G.
XXII.
In spinas demtas a Christi capite cruentatas.
Accipe, an ignoscis? de te sata germina, miles.
Quam segeti est messis discolor illa suae!
O quae tam duro gleba est tam grata colono?
Inserit hic spinas: reddit et illa rosas.
Upon the thornes taken downe from our Lord's head bloody.
Knowst thou this, souldier? 'tis a much-chang'd plant, which yet
Thyselfe didst set;
'Tis chang'd indeed: did Autumn e're such beauties bring
To shame his Spring?
O, who so hard an husbandman could ever find
A soyle so kind?
Is not the soile a kind one, thinke ye, that returnes
Roses for thornes? Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Take, soldier—know'st them not?—thy planted germs;
A harvest how unlike to its seed-corn!
What soil yields husbandman such kindly terms?
The rose he gathers, where he planted thorn. G.
XXIII.
Joan. iii. 1-21.
Nox erat, et Christum, Doctor male docte, petebas
In Christo tenebras depositure tuas.
Ille autem multo dum te bonus irrigat ore,
Atque per arcanas ducit in alta vias,
Sol venit, et primo pandit se flore diei,
Ludit et in dubiis aureus horror aquis.
Sol oritur; sed adhuc, et adhuc tamen, Ô bone, nescis.
Sol oritur, tecum nox tamen est, et adhuc
· · · · · · · ·
Non coeli, illa fuit, nox fuit illa tua.
Nicodemus.
'Twas night; and, Teacher all untaught,
Thy darkness thou to Christ hast brought
But while attent He speaks to thee
Benignant words, that thou mayst see,
Leading higher still and higher,
As thy yearnings do aspire,
Guiding thee, by sure grace given,
Through secret paths that reach to heaven;
Lo, the Sun on thee is risen,
Bursting from his cloudy prison,
Showing Him, the Life, the Way,
Flushing with first bloom of day,
Quivering with a golden light
Such as on wav'ring seas gleams bright.
The Sun is risen; yet darkness lies,
Good Nicodemus, on thine eyes;
But the night's thine own; for, lo,
All heav'n above doth lustrous glow. G.
XXIV.
Domitiano de S. Johanne ad portam Lat.
Ergo ut inultus eas? sed nec tamen ibis inultus,
Sic violare ausus meque meosque deos.
Ure oleo, lictor. Oleo parat urere lictor:
Sed quem uri lictor credidit, unctus erat.
Te quoque sic olei virtus malefida fefellit?
Sic tua te Pallas, Domitiane, juvat?
To Domitian, concerning St. John commanded to be cast into a caldron of boiling oil.
Thou go unpunish'd? That shall never be,
Since thou hast dar'd to mock my gods and me.
Burn him in oil!—The lictor oil prepares:
Behold the Saint anointed unawares!
With such elusive virtue was the oil fraught!
Such aid thy olive-loving Pallas brought![89] R. Wi.
XXV.
In Baptistam vocem. Joan. i. 23.
Tantum habuit Baptista loqui, tot flumina rerum,
Ut bene Vox fuerit, praetereaque nihil.
Ecce autem Verbum est unum tantum ille loquutus:
Uno sed Verbo cuncta loquutus erat.
The voice of the Baptist.
The Baptist had to speak such floods of things,
That well he might be Voice and nothing more:
But one word only, lo, Christ speaks, which brings
In one word all: My soul that Word adore! G.
XXVI.
In D. Petrum angelo solutum. Act. xii. 6, 7.
Mors tibi et Herodes instant: cum nuncius ales
Gaudia fert, quae tu somnia ferre putas.
Quid tantum dedit ille, rogo, tibi? Vincula solvit,
Mors tibi et Herodes nonne dedisset idem?
On St. Peter loosed by the angel.
Death, Herod, press on thee; when angel's wing
Brings joys which thou supposest dreams to bring.
What gave he thee? Thy chains burst at his touch;
But Death and Herod would have given as much. R. Wi.
XXVII.
Relictis omnibus sequuti sunt eum. Luc. v. 28.
Ad nutum Domini abjecisti retia, Petre.
Tam bene non unquam jacta fuere prius.
Scilicet hoc recte jacere est tua retia, Petre,
Nimirum, Christus cum jubet, abjicere.
On St. Peter casting away his nets at our Saviour's call.
ANOTHER VERSION.
At the Lord's word thy nets were cast away:
Never before thy nets so well were cast.
Rightly to cast them is to cast away,
When once The Master's order has been pass'd. G.
XXVIII.
Agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata mundi. Joan. i. 36.
Ergo tot heu, torvas facies, tot in ora leonum,
In tot castra lupum qui meat, Agnus erit?
Hic tot in horribiles, quot sunt mea crimina, pardos?
Hic tot in audaces ungue vel ore feras?
Ah melius, pugiles quis enim commiserit istos?
Quos sua non faciunt arma vel ira pares.
The Lamb of God, Who bears away the sins of the world.
Shall He, then, be a Lamb, to go
Forth against such various foe?
Lions ravenous, great of jaw;
Wolves in vast herds, of mighty paw;
Pards vengeful, prowling out and in—
Frightful, num'rous as my sin—
Awful of face, and gaunt and grim,
Merciless to mangle limb by limb.
Ah, goest Thou, gentle One, 'gainst these?
And does terror upon Thee seize?
O how unequal is the strife,
And the prey so grand a life!
With such as these to fight art fated?
Nor in arms nor passion mated. G.
XXIX.
Pisces multiplicati. Joan. xxi. 11.
Quae secreta meant taciti tibi retia verbi,
Queis non tam pisces quam capis Oceanum?
The miraculous draught of fishes.
What nets, hid in Thy silent word,
Passest Thou on;
By which not fish Thou takest, Lord,
But the Ocean? G.
XXX.
Domine, non solum pedes, sed et caput, &c. Joan. xiii. 9.
En caput, atque suis quae plus satis ora laborant
Sordibus; huc fluvios, ais [et] adde tuos.
Nil opus est; namque haec, modo tertius occinat ales,
E fluviis fuerint, Petre, lavanda suis.
Lord, not my feet only, but also my head, &c.
'Behold my head, behold my face,
Which sin's filthiest stains deface:
Here pour Thy streams:' thou say'st to Me.
But, Peter, needs not this for thee;
For ere the cock a third time crow,
Rivers of its own tears must flow. G.
XXXI.
Cum tot signa edidisset, non credebant. Joan. xii. 37.
Quanta amor ille tuus se cunque levaverit ala,
Quo tua cunque opere effloruit alta manus;
Mundus adest, contraque tonat, signisque reponit
Signa, adeo sua sunt numina vel sceleri,
Imo, Ô nec nimii vis sit temeraria verbi,
Ille uno sensu vel tua cuncta premit.
Tot tantisque tuis mirac'lum hoc objicit unum,
Tot tantisque tuis non adhibere fidem.
Though they beheld so many miracles, they believed not.
However high in Thy great love Thou wingest,
And whatsoe'er within Thy hand Thou bringest,
Against Thee, with its thunders, stands the world,
Sign answering sign; Sin's banners all unfurl'd.
Nay—and let not the bold rash word appal—
One thought o' the world makes all Thy wonders fall:
Against Thy mightiest signs this one it wields—
To the vast whole of Thine, no faith it yields. G.
XXXII.
In nubem, quae Dominum abstulit. Act. i. 9.
O nigra haec! quid enim mihi candida pectora monstrat,
Pectora cygneis candidiora genis?
Sit vero magis alba, suo magis aurea Phoebo,
Quantumcunque sibi candida; nigra mihi est.
Nigra mihi nubes! et qua neque nigrior Austros,
Vel tulit irati nuntia tela Dei.
Nigra! licet nimbos, noctem neque detulit ullam.
Si noctem non fert, at rapit, ecce, diem.
On the cloud which received the Lord.
O, this black cloud! a white breast does it show—
A breast more white than a swan's neck of snow?
More bright than golden sunshine let it be!
However fair itself, 'tis black to me.
From blacker cloud ne'er issu'd stormy blast,
Nor thunderbolts of angry heaven were cast.
Black! though no showers or shadows round it play;
If Night it bring not, yet it takes our Day. R. Wi.
XXXIII.
Vidit urbem, et flevit super eam. Luc. xix. 41, 42.
Ergo meas spernis lacrymas, urbs perfida? Sperne.
Sperne meas, quas Ô sic facis esse tuas.
Tempus erit, lacrymas poterit cum lacryma demum
Nostra, nec immerito, spernere spreta tuas.
He saw the city, and wept over it.
Why scornest thou My tears, deceitful city?
Scorn, scorn My tears, and thus thou mak'st them thine.
The time will come when thou shalt seek My pity;
But I shall scorn thy tears, as thou scorn'st Mine. G.
XXXIV.
Nec sicut iste publicanus. Luc. xviii. 11.
Tu quoque dum istius miseri peccata fateris,
Quae nec is irato mitius ungue notat;
Hic satis est gemino bonus in sua crimina telo.
Interea, quid erit, mi Pharisaee, tuis?
Nor even as this publican.
While thou too dost this wretch's sins confess,
Which he with hand and tongue deplores no less;
If he 'gainst his own crimes twice just will be,
What thinks he meanwhile of the Pharisee? R. Wi.
XXXV.
Accedentes Discipuli excitaverunt eum. Matt. viii. 25.
Ah, quis erat furor hos, tam raros, solvere somnos?
O vos, queis Christi vel sopor invigilat!
Illum si somnus tenuit, vos somnia terrent,
Somnia tam vanos ingeminata metus.
Nil Christi nocuit somnus, mihi credite. Somnus
Qui nocuit, vestrae somnus erat fidei.
His Disciples came and awoke Him.
What madness this, slumbers so rare to break,
O ye, for whom even Christ's sleep doth wake!
If sleep held Him, ye're terrified by dreams—
Dreams which redouble fear that only seems.
Christ's sleep nought injur'd you, indeed 'tis true:
Your faith's sleep, and that only, injur'd you. R. Wi.
XXXVI.
In mulierem Canaanaeam cum Domino decertantem. Matt. xv. 22-28.
Cedit io jam, jamque cadet modo, fortiter urge,
Jam tua ni desit dextera, jamque cadet.
Nimirum hoc velit ipse, tuo favet ipse triumpho,
Ipse tuas tacitus res tuus hostis agit.
Quas patitur facit ille manus; ictu ille sub omni est;
Atque in te vires sentit, amatque suas.
Usque adeo haud tuus hic ferus est, neque ferreus hostis;
Usque adeo est miles non truculentus Amor.
Illo quam facilis victoria surgit ab hoste,
Qui, tantum ut vinci possit, in arma venit!
The woman of Canaan.
Now He yieldeth, now He falleth,
As thy passion on Him calleth:
Press thee nigher still and nigher,
Urge thee higher still and higher;
Cleave and cling, nor let thy hand
Cease to plead, nor fearing stand.
He thy triumph sees with gladness,
Loves thee in thy clinging sadness;
Seems thy foe, yet ne'ertheless
Yearns in His heart of love to bless;
Willing bears thy every blow,
That from His own pow'r doth flow;
Loves to hear thy interceding,
His own voice within thee pleading.
Ah, this seeming en'my of thine,
Of fierceness giveth thee no sign;
For Love no grim soldier is,
Rough and severe, denying bliss.
Eas'ly is that victory won,
When the foe seeks to be undone. G.
XXXVII.
Quare comedit Magister vester cum peccatoribus, &c. Matt. ix. 11.
Siccine fraternos fastidis, improbe, morbos,
Cum tuus, et gravior, te quoque morbus habet?
Tantum ausus medicum morbus sibi quaerere, magnus;
Tantum ausus medicum spernere, major erat.
Wherefore eateth your Master with sinners, &c.
Dost loathe thy brother, Pharisee,
Since his disease to Christ he brings?
And knowest not that all men see
Disease to thee more deadly clings?
That he dare seek Healer so great,
Shows great his disease to be;
That thou dar'st scorn on Him to wait,
Shows a greater cleaves to thee. G.
XXXVIII.
In febricitantem et hydropicum sanatos. Marc. i. 30, 31; Luc. xiv. 2-4.
Nuper lecta gravem extinxit pia pagina febrem,
Hydropi siccos dat modo lecta sinus.
Haec vice fraterna quam se miracula tangunt,
Atque per alternum fida juvamen amant!
Quippe ignes istos his quam bene mersit in undis,
Ignibus his illas quam bene vicit aquas!
Miracles of healing the men sick of fever and of dropsy.
We read within the sacred page
Christ quench'd a fever's burning rage;
Read that a dropsy's swollen flood
Ebb'd at His word e'en as He stood.
Well join'd these mir'cles each to other,
As loving brother unto brother:
How well these waters drown'd that flame,
That fire these waters overcame! G.
XXXIX.
In S. Lucam medicum. Col. iv. 14.
Hanc, mihi quam miseram faciunt mea crimina vitam,
Hanc, medici, longam vestra medela facit.
Hoc'ne diu est vixisse? diu, mihi credite, non est
Hoc vixisse; diu sed timuisse mori.
Tu foliis, Medice alme, tuis medicamina praebes,
Et medicaminibus, quae mala summa, malis.
Hoc mortem bene vitare est, vitare ferendo.
Et vixisse diu est hoc, cito posse mori.
To St. Luke the physician.
This life my sins with wretchedness make rife,
Physicians by their art prolong this life.
Is this to live long time? I hear one sigh;
This is but fearing a long time to die.
Thy leaves, Physician blest, medicines contain
E'en for our medicines poor, our chiefest bane.
This is to escape death well—in death to lie;
And this is to live long—quickly to die. R. Wi.
XL.
Tollat crucem suam, &c. Matt. xxvii. 32.
Ergo tuam pone; ut nobis sit sumere nostram:
Si nostram vis nos sumere, pone tuam.
Illa, illa, ingenti quae te trabe duplicat, illa
Vel nostra est, nostras vel tulit illa cruces.
He bears His own cross, &c.
Wherefore Thy cross, O Lord, lay down,
That we our own may make it:
If ours Thou willest us to own,
Thine, Lord, lay down; we'll take it:
That, that, I say, with its huge beam,
Which Thy prest body doubles;
That cross, e'en that, our own we deem,
For it has borne our troubles.
Our sin Thy burden sendeth;
Thy cross our crosses blendeth. G.
XLI.
In cygneam D. Jesu cantionem. Joan. xvii.
Quae mella, Ô quot, Christe, favos in carmina fundis!
Dulcis et, ah furias! ah, moribundus olor!
Parce tamen, minus hae si sunt mea gaudia voces:
Voce quidem dulci, sed moriente canis.
Upon our Lord's last comfortable discourse with His disciples.
All Hybla's honey, all that sweetnesse can,
Flowes in Thy song, O faire, O dying Swan!
Yet is the joy I take in't small or none;
It is too sweet to be a long-liv'd one. Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
On the swan-song of our Lord Jesus.
What songs, like honeycomb, your tongue employ,
Sweet Swan! but ah, Thou waitest for Death's call.
O cease; these sounds are but a doubtful joy;
'Tis a sweet voice, but has a dying fall. G.
XLII.
Et conspuebant illum. Marc. xiv. 65.
Quid non tam foede saevi maris audeat ira?
Conspuit ecce oculos, sydera nostra, tuos.
Forsan et hic aliquis sputo te excaecat, Jesu,
Qui debet sputo, quod videt ipse, tuo.
And they spat upon Him.
What will Wrath's sea, so foully fierce, not dare?
It spits upon our stars, Thy eyes so fair.
Perchance e'en here some one now spits on Thee
Who to Thy spittle owes it, he doth see. G.
XLIII.
Rogavit eum, ut descenderet et sanaret filium suum. Joan. iv. 47.
Ille ut eat tecum, in natique tuique salutem?
Qui petis; ah nescis, credo, quod ales Amor.
Ille ut eat tecum? quam se tua vota morantur!
Ille ut eat? tanto serius esset ibi.
Ne tardus veniat, Christus tecum ire recusat:
Christi nempe ipsum hoc ire moratur iter.
Christi nempe viis perit hoc quodcunque meatur:
Christi nempe viis vel properare mora est.
Hic est, cui tu vota facis tua, Christus: at idem,
Crede mihi, dabit haec qui rata, Christus ibi est.
He besought that He would go with him and heal his son.
That He would go with thee thou pleadest,
As for thy child thou intercedest.
Ah, little knowest thou how Love,
Such as descendeth from Above,
Swifter far is than feet can go,
Or any motion here below.
'Go with thee?' O how strange request!
Thou wouldst later then be blest.
That He may not slowlier come,
Christ will not travel with thee home,
For so to 'go' were to delay;
All paths unneeded by The Way.
Christ to Whom thou speakest pleading,
Christ with Whom thou'rt interceding,
He is here, and yet is yonder,
Swift as is the bolt of thunder:
He thy heart's desire will give;
Have thou faith, thy child shall live. G.
XLIV.
Pavor enim occupaverat eum super capturam piscium. Luc. v. 9.
Dum nimium in captis per te, Petre, piscibus haeres,
Piscibus, ut video, captus es ipse tuis.
Rem scio, te praedam Christus sibi cepit: et illi
Una in te ex istis omnibus esca fuit.
For dread came upon him at the great draught of fishes.
Whilst, Peter, thou art so astonishÈd
At thy draught of fishes,
Methinks thyself by them art captive led:
Christ to catch thee wishes,
So as one bait He setteth all these fishes. G.
XLV.
Viderunt et oderunt me. Joan. xv. 24.
Vidit? et odit adhuc? Ah, te non vidit, Jesu.
Non vidit te, qui vidit, et odit adhuc.
Non vidit, te non vidit, dulcissime rerum;
In te qui vidit quid, quod amare neget.
But now they have seen and hated.
Seene, and yet hated Thee? They did not see;
They saw Thee not, that saw and hated Thee:
No, no, they saw Thee not, O Life, O Love,
Who saw aught in Thee that their hate could move. Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
See Thee, Lord, and hated still?
Ah, that were impossible:
See and hate? He saw Thee never
Who could see, nor love for ever.
O Thou, the all-lovely One,
He hath had no vision
Who can see and hate; for why,
Speck nor stain may none descry
In Thy lowly, lofty Face,
Full of sweetness, love, and grace. G.
XLVI.
Luc. xviii. 39.
Tu mala turba tace; mihi tam mea vota propinquant,
Tuque in me linguam vis tacuisse meam?
Tunc ego, tunc taceam, mihi cum meus Ille loquetur.
Si nescis, oculos vox habet ista meos.
O noctis miserere meae, miserere, per illam,
Quae tam laeta tuo ridet in ore diem.
O noctis miserere meae, miserere, per illam,
Quae, nisi te videat, nox velit esse, diem.
O noctis miserere meae, miserere, per illam,
Haec mea quam, fidei, nox habet ipsa, diem.
Illa dies animi, Jesu, rogat hanc oculorum:
Illam, oro, dederis; hanc mihi ne rapias.
The blind suppliant.
Be silent, crowd: my prayers so near me come,
And do you bid my pleading tongue be dumb
Before my Lord to me His speech, etc.[90]
ANOTHER VERSION.
Silence, silence, O vile crowd;
Yea, I will now cry aloud:
He comes near, Who is to me
Light and life and liberty.
Silence seek ye? yes, I'll be
Silent when He speaks to me,
He my Hope; ah, meek and still,
I shall 'bide His holy will.
O crowd, ye it may surprise,
But His voice holdeth my eyes:
O have pity on my night,
By the day that gives glad light;
O have pity on my night,
By the day would lose its light,
If it gat not of Thee sight;
O have pity on my night,
By day of faith upspringing bright;
That day within my soul that burns,
And for eyes' day unto Thee turns.
Lord, O Lord, give me this day,
Nor do Thou take that away. G.
XLVII.
In Pharisaeos Christi verbis insidiantes. Matt. xxii. 15.
O quam te miseri ludunt vaga taedia voti,
Ex ore hoc speras qui, Pharisaee, malum!
Sic quis ab Aurorae noctem speraverit ulnis,
Unde solet primis Sol tener ire rosis?
Sic Acheronta petas illinc unde amne corusco
Lactea sydereos Cynthia lavit equos.
Sic violas aconita roges: sic toxica nympham,
Garrula quae vitreo gurgite vexat humum.
Denique, ut exemplo res haec propriore patescat,
A te sic speret quis, Pharisaee, bonum?
The Pharisees insidiously watching the words of Christ.
O self-baffl'd Pharisee,
Vainly dost thou weary thee,
Hoping at His holy mouth
To catch other than the Truth:
Stainless, holy, pure is He,
Guileless as Simplicity.
Who would e'er expect black Night
In the bosom of the Light,
When the young sun in splendour burns,
And the dawn to roses turns?
Who, again, would seek to mark
Acheron plunging i' the dark,
Where white Cynthia's starry steeds
Lave them by the glitt'ring meads?
Who would aconite think to get
From the fragrant violet?
Or, watching by the babbling rill
Gushing in pureness from the hill,
Think thence poison to distil?
In fine, instance nearer thee—
Would any ever hope to see
Aught of good in Pharisee? G.
XLVIII.
Matt. ix. 20.
Falleris, et nudum male ponis, pictor, Amorem;
Non nudum facis hunc, cum sine veste facis.
Nonne hic est, dum sic digito patet ille fideli,
Tunc cum vestitus, tunc quoque nudus Amor?
Touched the hem of His garment.
Erringly, painter, thou portrayst Love bare:
Not bare you make him, though no clothes he wear.
Here, while laid open to believing hand,
Though clothed indeed, bare truly see Him stand. R. Wi.
XLIX.
Tolle oculos, tolle, Ô tecum tua sydera nostros.
Ah quid enim, quid agant hic sine sole suo?
Id quod agant sine sole suo tua sydera, coelum:
Id terrae haec agerent hic sine sole suo.
Illa suo sine sole suis caeca imbribus essent:
Caeca suis lacrymis haec sine sole suo.
The departing Saviour.
O take, take with Thee, Lord, Thy stars, our eyes;
What would they do left here without their sun?
E'en what your sunless stars would do, ye skies,
Would here by sunless stars of earth be done.
Without their sun, those dark with showers we see;
These without sun, dark with their tears would be. R. Wi.
L.
Nam ego non solum vinciri, &c. Act. xxi. 13.
Quid mortem objicitis nostro, quid vinc'la timori?
Non timor est illinc, non timor inde meus.
Vincula, quae timeam, sunt vincula sola timoris:
Sola timenda mihi est mors, timuisse mori.
Paul unfearing.
Why talk of death or bonds to me,
As if these things a fear could be?
My fear springeth not from thence;
Nor in these is influence
Me to trouble or alarm,
Me to fret, or me to harm.
The only bonds that fearful are
Are the bonds themselves of fear;
The only death looks dreadfully,
Is lest I should fear to die. G.
LI.
Legatio Baptistae ad Christum. Matt. xi.
Oro, quis es? legat ista suo Baptista Magistro.
Illi quae referant, talia Christus habet.
Cui caecus cernit, mutus se in verba resolvit,
It claudus, vivit mortuus: oro, quis est?
The message of the Baptist to Christ.
I ask, Who art Thou? is the Baptist's word.
Straight from his Master this reply is heard:
He by whose mighty power dumb speak, blind see,
Lame walk, dead live: Who is This? I ask thee. R. Wi.
LII.
Accipe dona, puer, parvae libamina laudis;
Accipe, non meritis accipienda suis:
Accipe dona, puer dulcis; dumque accipis illa,
Digna quoque efficies, quae, puer, accipies.
Sive oculo, sive illa tua dignabere dextra;
Dextram oculumque dabis posse decere tuum.
Non modo es in dantes, sed et ipsa in dona benignus;
Nec tantum donans das, sed et accipiens.
Gifts to Jesus.
Take, Lord, these gifts, small offerings of our hand,
Though their own worth acceptance none command.
Take, and while taking them, Thou Saviour sweet.
E'en what Thou takest, Thou wilt render meet.
Whether Thou deem them worthy eye or touch,
Thou wilt be able, Lord, to make them such:
Kind e'en to gifts themselves, as to those giving,
Thou givest both when giving and receiving. R. Wi.
LIII.
In partum B. Virginis non difficilem.
Nec facta est tamen illa parens impune, quod almi
Tam parcens uteri venerit ille puer.
Una haec nascentis quodcunque pepercerit hora.
Toto illum vitae tempore parturiit.
Gaudia parturientis erat semel ille parenti;
Quotidie gemitus parturientis erat.
On the blessed Virgin's easy parturition.
Not lightly she escap'd a mother's doom,
Although her Child dealt gently with her womb:
Whate'er was spar'd at the one hour of birth,
She travail'd with Him all His time on earth:
The joy of childbirth quickly pass'd away;
She felt the pangs of childbirth every day. R. Wi.
LIV.
Circulus hic similem quam par sibi pergit in orbem!
Principiumque suum quam bene finis amat!
Virgineo thalamo quam pulchre convenit ille,
Quo nemo jacuit, virgineus tumulus!
Undique ut haec aequo passu res iret; et ille
Josepho desponsatus, et ille fuit.
Upon our Saviour's tombe, wherein never man was laid.
How life and death in Thee
Agree!
Thou hadst a virgin wombe
And tombe:
A Joseph did betroth
Them both. Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
See how a circle tends,
Beginning as it ends:
Behold a virgin womb;
Behold a virgin tomb;
Behold, and wonder at the truth,
A Joseph was espous'd to both! G.
LV.
In Sanctum igneis linguis descendentem Spiritum. Act. ii. 3.
Absint, qui ficto simulant pia pectora vultu,
Ignea quos luteo pectore lingua beat.
Hoc potius mea vota rogant, mea thura petessunt,
Ut mihi sit mea mens ignea, lingua luti.
On the Holy Spirit descending in fiery tongues.
Begone, who goodness feign with a false face,
Whom fiery tongues in earthy bosom grace.
This rather all my prayers and gifts desire,
A tongue of earth, if but my heart be fire. R. Wi.
LVI.
LIFE FOR DEATH.[91]
Whosoever will loose his life, &c. Matt. xvi. 25.
Soe I may gaine Thy death, my life I'le giue,—
My life's Thy death, and in Thy death I liue;
Or else, my life, I'le hide thee in His graue,
By three daies losse Æternally to saue. Cr.
LVII.
ON THE DIVINE LOVE: AFTER H. HUGO.[92]
In amorem divinum (Hermannus Hugo).
Æternall Loue! what 'tis to loue Thee well,
None but himselfe who feeles it, none can tell.
But oh, what to be lou'd of Thee as well,
None, not himselfe who feeles it, none can tell. Cr.
Latin Poems.
