O ut ego angelicis fiam bona gaudia turmis!Me quoque solicito quaere per arva gradu.Mille tibi tutis ludunt in montibus agni,Quos potes haud dubia dicere voce tuos.Unus ego erravi, quo me meus error agebat;Unus ego fuerim gaudia plura tibi.Gaudia non faciunt, quae nec fecere timorem;Et plus quae donant ipsa peric'la placent.Horum quos retines fuerit tibi latior usus:De me quem recipis dulcior usus erit.
O ut ego angelicis fiam bona gaudia turmis!Me quoque solicito quaere per arva gradu.Mille tibi tutis ludunt in montibus agni,Quos potes haud dubia dicere voce tuos.Unus ego erravi, quo me meus error agebat;Unus ego fuerim gaudia plura tibi.Gaudia non faciunt, quae nec fecere timorem;Et plus quae donant ipsa peric'la placent.Horum quos retines fuerit tibi latior usus:De me quem recipis dulcior usus erit.
Εἶς μὲν ἐγὼ, ᾗ μοῦ πλάνη περιῆγεν, ἄλημι·Εἶς δέ τοι σῶς ἔσομαι γηθοσύναι πλέονες.Ἀμνὸς ὁ μὴ ποιῶν φόβον οὐ ποιεῖ δέ τε χάρμα.Μεὶζων τῶν μὲν, ἐμοῦ χρεία δὲ γλυκυτέρη.
Εἶς μὲν ἐγὼ, ᾗ μοῦ πλάνη περιῆγεν, ἄλημι·Εἶς δέ τοι σῶς ἔσομαι γηθοσύναι πλέονες.Ἀμνὸς ὁ μὴ ποιῶν φόβον οὐ ποιεῖ δέ τε χάρμα.Μεὶζων τῶν μὲν, ἐμοῦ χρεία δὲ γλυκυτέρη.
What man of you having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, &c.
O might I fire the angel-bands with joy,Thy seeking steps o'er anxious plains employ!A thousand lambs on the safe mountains play;All Thine they are, Thou certainly canst say.The one that err'd and stray'd behold in me;Be I the one to bring more joy to Thee!They give no joy who never caus'd a fear;Dangers themselves, o'ercome, the more endear.Of those retain'd, more wide be the employment;Of me recover'd, sweeter the enjoyment.R. Wi.
O might I fire the angel-bands with joy,Thy seeking steps o'er anxious plains employ!A thousand lambs on the safe mountains play;All Thine they are, Thou certainly canst say.The one that err'd and stray'd behold in me;Be I the one to bring more joy to Thee!They give no joy who never caus'd a fear;Dangers themselves, o'ercome, the more endear.Of those retain'd, more wide be the employment;Of me recover'd, sweeter the enjoyment.R. Wi.
Herodi D. Jacobum obtruncanti.Act. xii. 2.
Nescis Jacobus quantum hunc tibi debeat ictum,Quaeque tua in sacrum saeviat ira caput.Scilicet ipso illi donasti hoc ense coronam,Quo sacrum abscideras scilicet ense caput.Abscissum pensare caput quae possit abunde,Sola haec tam saeva et sacra corona fuit.
Nescis Jacobus quantum hunc tibi debeat ictum,Quaeque tua in sacrum saeviat ira caput.Scilicet ipso illi donasti hoc ense coronam,Quo sacrum abscideras scilicet ense caput.Abscissum pensare caput quae possit abunde,Sola haec tam saeva et sacra corona fuit.
Ἐν μὲν, Ἰάκωβε, κεφαλήν τοι ξίφος ἀπῇρεν,Ἓν τόδε καὶ στέφανον ξίφος ἔδωκε τεόν.Μοῦνον ἀμείβεσθαι κεφαλὴν, Ἰάκωβε, δύναιτο,Κεῖνος ὃδ' ὡς καλὸς μαρτυρίου στέφανος.
Ἐν μὲν, Ἰάκωβε, κεφαλήν τοι ξίφος ἀπῇρεν,Ἓν τόδε καὶ στέφανον ξίφος ἔδωκε τεόν.Μοῦνον ἀμείβεσθαι κεφαλὴν, Ἰάκωβε, δύναιτο,Κεῖνος ὃδ' ὡς καλὸς μαρτυρίου στέφανος.
To Herod beheading St. James.
Know'st not how much James owes thee for this stroke,Or how on his blest head thine anger broke.Lo, to himself a crown thou dost accordForsooth with that selfsame beheading sword.Only this sacred sanguinary crownThat sunder'd head was able to weigh down.R. Wi.
Know'st not how much James owes thee for this stroke,Or how on his blest head thine anger broke.Lo, to himself a crown thou dost accordForsooth with that selfsame beheading sword.Only this sacred sanguinary crownThat sunder'd head was able to weigh down.R. Wi.
Caeci receptis oculis Christum sequuntur.Matt. xx. 34.
Ecce manu imposita Christus nova sidera ponit:Sectantur patriam sidera fida manum.Haec manus his, credo, coelum est: haec scilicet astraSuspicor esse olim quae geret ille manu.[87]
Ecce manu imposita Christus nova sidera ponit:Sectantur patriam sidera fida manum.Haec manus his, credo, coelum est: haec scilicet astraSuspicor esse olim quae geret ille manu.[87]
Χεὶρ ἐπιβαλλομένη Χριστοῦ ἐπέβαλλεν ὀπωπῶνἌστρα· ὀπηδεύει κεῖνά γε χειρὶ Θεοῦ.Χεὶρ αὓτη τούτοις πέλεν οὐρανός. ἄστρα γὰρ οἶμαιἘν χερὶ ταῦτ' οἴσει Χριστὸς ἔπειτα ἑῇ.
Χεὶρ ἐπιβαλλομένη Χριστοῦ ἐπέβαλλεν ὀπωπῶνἌστρα· ὀπηδεύει κεῖνά γε χειρὶ Θεοῦ.Χεὶρ αὓτη τούτοις πέλεν οὐρανός. ἄστρα γὰρ οἶμαιἘν χερὶ ταῦτ' οἴσει Χριστὸς ἔπειτα ἑῇ.
The blind men having received their sight follow Christ.
See Christ with outstretcht hand new stars create,Which on that hand with due observance wait.That hand, sure, is their heaven: these stars are theyWhich He will hold in His right hand one day.R. Wi.
See Christ with outstretcht hand new stars create,Which on that hand with due observance wait.That hand, sure, is their heaven: these stars are theyWhich He will hold in His right hand one day.R. Wi.
Zachaeus in sycomoro.Luc. xix. 4.
Quid te, quid jactas alienis fructibus, arbor?Quid tibi cum foliis non, sycomore, tuis?Quippe istic ramo qui jam tibi nutat ab alto,Mox e divina Vite racemus erit.
Quid te, quid jactas alienis fructibus, arbor?Quid tibi cum foliis non, sycomore, tuis?Quippe istic ramo qui jam tibi nutat ab alto,Mox e divina Vite racemus erit.
Τίπτ' ἐπικομπάζεις κενεὸν ξείνῳ δέ τε καρπῷ,Καὶ φύλλοις σεμνὴ μὴ, συκόμωρε, τεοῖς;Καὶ γὰρ ὅδ' ἐκκρήμνης σοῦ νῦν μετέωρος ἀπ' ἔρνους,Ἀμπέλου ὁ κλαδὼν ἔσσεται οὐρανίου.
Τίπτ' ἐπικομπάζεις κενεὸν ξείνῳ δέ τε καρπῷ,Καὶ φύλλοις σεμνὴ μὴ, συκόμωρε, τεοῖς;Καὶ γὰρ ὅδ' ἐκκρήμνης σοῦ νῦν μετέωρος ἀπ' ἔρνους,Ἀμπέλου ὁ κλαδὼν ἔσσεται οὐρανίου.
Zaccheus in the sycamore-tree.
Why of strange fruits dost boast, O sycamore?Of leaves not thine who gave thee such a store?He who waves to and fro on bough of thine,A cluster soon will be of the True Vine.R. Wi.
Why of strange fruits dost boast, O sycamore?Of leaves not thine who gave thee such a store?He who waves to and fro on bough of thine,A cluster soon will be of the True Vine.R. Wi.
On our crucified Lord naked and bloody.
Th' have left Thee naked, Lord: O that they had!This garment too I would they had deny'd.Thee with Thyselfe they have too richly clad,Opening the purple wardrobe of Thy side.O never could bee found garments too goodFor Thee to weare, but these of Thine own blood.
Th' have left Thee naked, Lord: O that they had!This garment too I would they had deny'd.Thee with Thyselfe they have too richly clad,Opening the purple wardrobe of Thy side.O never could bee found garments too goodFor Thee to weare, but these of Thine own blood.
Sampson to his Dalilah.
Could not once blinding me, cruell, suffice?When first I look't on thee, I lost mine eyes.
Could not once blinding me, cruell, suffice?When first I look't on thee, I lost mine eyes.
Upon Ford's two Tragedyes, 'Love's Sacrifice' and 'The Broken Heart.'
Thou cheat'st us, Ford; mak'st one seeme two by art:What is Love's Sacrifice but The Broken Heart?
Thou cheat'st us, Ford; mak'st one seeme two by art:What is Love's Sacrifice but The Broken Heart?
Vpon the Faire Ethiopian, sent to a gentlewoman.
Lo here the faire Chariclea, in whom stroveSo false a fortune and so true a love!Now after all her toyles by sea and land,O may she but arrive at your white hand!Her hopes are crown'd; onely she feares that thanShee shall appeare true Ethiopian.
Lo here the faire Chariclea, in whom stroveSo false a fortune and so true a love!Now after all her toyles by sea and land,O may she but arrive at your white hand!Her hopes are crown'd; onely she feares that thanShee shall appeare true Ethiopian.
On marriage.
I would be married, but I'de have no wife:I would be married to a single life.
I would be married, but I'de have no wife:I would be married to a single life.
On Nanus mounted upon an ant.
High-mounted on an ant, Nanus the tallWas throwne, alas, and got a deadly fall;Vnder th' unruly beast's proud feet he liesAll torne: with much adoe yet ere he dyesHee straines these words: Base Envy, doe laugh on:Thus did I fall, and thus fell Phaethon.
High-mounted on an ant, Nanus the tallWas throwne, alas, and got a deadly fall;Vnder th' unruly beast's proud feet he liesAll torne: with much adoe yet ere he dyesHee straines these words: Base Envy, doe laugh on:Thus did I fall, and thus fell Phaethon.
Vpon Venus putting-on Mars his armes.
What, Mars his sword? faire Cytherea, say,Why art thou arm'd so desperately to-day?Mars thou hast beaten naked; and, O then,What needst thou put on armes against poore men?
What, Mars his sword? faire Cytherea, say,Why art thou arm'd so desperately to-day?Mars thou hast beaten naked; and, O then,What needst thou put on armes against poore men?
Vpon the same.
Pallas saw Venus arm'd, and straight she cry'd:Come if thou dar'st; thus, thus let us be try'd.Why, foole! saies Venus, thus provok'st thou mee,That being nak't, thou know'st could conquer thee?
Pallas saw Venus arm'd, and straight she cry'd:Come if thou dar'st; thus, thus let us be try'd.Why, foole! saies Venus, thus provok'st thou mee,That being nak't, thou know'st could conquer thee?
Out of Martiall.
Foure teeth thou hadst, that, ranck'd in goodly state,Kept thy mouth's gate.The first blast of thy cough left two alone;The second, none.This last cough, Delia, cought-out all thy feare;Th' hast left the third cough now no business here.
Foure teeth thou hadst, that, ranck'd in goodly state,Kept thy mouth's gate.The first blast of thy cough left two alone;The second, none.This last cough, Delia, cought-out all thy feare;Th' hast left the third cough now no business here.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
These Secular, or, as the word was, 'Humane' Epigrams, all originally appeared in the volume of 1646, as before, and were continued in the after-editions. It is pleasant to have this recognition of John Ford (I.) by Crashaw. The two Tragedies celebrated, appeared in the same year, 1633. The 'Faire Ethiopian' ofII.was doubtless William Lisle's poem so named [Lond. 1632],—not given by Hazlitt,s.n.The others are too well known to need annotation. These are all preserved, with a collection of others, in the TannerMS., as before. G.
NEVER BEFORE PRINTED.
NOTE.
It is my great privilege to be the first to print the following extensive additions to theEpigrammata Sacraof Crashaw. They are wholly derived from Archbishop Sancroft'sMS.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
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.
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.
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.
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 alvusProficere, et possit pingue latus fluere.Haec sua fecisti populo miracula credunt.Gens pia, et in ventrem relligiosa suum!
Jam credunt, Deus es: Deus est, qui teste palato,Quique ipso demum est judice dente Deus.Scilicet haec sapiunt miracula: de quibus alvusProficere, 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 loadAnd swell their paunches; yea, believe, forsooth.To a most pious race, Lord, Thou appealest,And stomachs most believing Thou revealest.G.
Now truly they believe that Thou art God!—God witnessèd by palate and by tooth!—They know the smack of miracles that loadAnd swell their paunches; yea, believe, forsooth.To a most pious race, Lord, Thou appealest,And stomachs most believing Thou revealest.G.
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.
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 howThou 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 amainHis undeserving cheek, as rain!More meet it were that I should knowThe tears that from His anguish flow:More meet it were that I should feelAll 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 IFor 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.
O cruel Pain! I ask thee howThou 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 amainHis undeserving cheek, as rain!More meet it were that I should knowThe tears that from His anguish flow:More meet it were that I should feelAll 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 IFor 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.
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.
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 stoneWhence 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.
Yield place, ye wonders of the ancient stoneWhence 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.
Ubi amorem praecipit.Joan. xiii. 14.
Sic magis in numeros morituraque carmina vivitDulcior extrema voce caducus olor;Ut tu inter strepitus odii, et tua funera, Jesu,Totus amor liquido totus amore sonas.
Sic magis in numeros morituraque carmina vivitDulcior 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Bonum est nobis esse hic.
Cur cupis hic adeo, dormitor Petre, manere?Somnia non alibi tam bona, Petre, vides.
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.
Why seek'st thou, drowsy Peter, here to stay?Elsewhere such pleasant dreams thou see'st not, eh?[88]G.
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.
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 yieldLong-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.
O fairest monarch of the enamell'd field,Whose is the blossom'd pomp of ivory splendour,And whose the fleeces, snowy-white, which yieldLong-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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 learnHe Who is now a Lamb will one day Lion turn.G.
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 learnHe Who is now a Lamb will one day Lion turn.G.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
'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.
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.
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.
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.
In natales Domini pastoribus nuntiatos.Luc. ii. 8-19.
Ad te sydereis, ad te, bone Tityre, pennisPurpureus 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?
Ad te sydereis, ad te, bone Tityre, pennisPurpureus 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.
shepherdTo thee, good Tityrus, on starry wingsThe royal angel such 'glad tidings' brings.Surely the happy watcher never thoughtThat he was watching when such joys were brought.And He, Whom thus the heavenly host reveal'dTo 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 deignsTo be a Lamb, for suffering of sin's pains?G.
shepherdTo thee, good Tityrus, on starry wingsThe royal angel such 'glad tidings' brings.Surely the happy watcher never thoughtThat he was watching when such joys were brought.And He, Whom thus the heavenly host reveal'dTo 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 deignsTo be a Lamb, for suffering of sin's pains?G.
In Atheniensem merum.Act. xvii. 28.
Ipsos naturae thalamos sapis, imaque rerumConcilia, 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.
Ipsos naturae thalamos sapis, imaque rerumConcilia, 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 thingsAnd all her deepest counsellings—All wonders of the primal NightConceal'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 advanceIs 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.
Thou knowest Nature's secret thingsAnd all her deepest counsellings—All wonders of the primal NightConceal'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 advanceIs 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.
Ego vitis vera.Joan. xv. 1.
Credo quidem, sed et hoc hostis te credidit ipseCaiaphas, et Judas credidit ipse, reor.Unde illis, Jesu, vitis nisi vera fuisses,Tanta tui potuit sanguinis esse sitis?
Credo quidem, sed et hoc hostis te credidit ipseCaiaphas, 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, believèdThee 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.
'Believe!' e'en Caiaphas, thy foe, believèdThee 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.
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.
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.
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.
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 ultraTam saeve de se nos potuisse queri!O bene; namque alio non posset rore rependi,Coelo exhalatum quod modo terra dedit.
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 ultraTam 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 brookThat we should mourn thee with so sad a look!'Tis well; no other dew had countervail'dThat which from earth to heaven was late exhal'd.R. Wi.
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 brookThat we should mourn thee with so sad a look!'Tis well; no other dew had countervail'dThat which from earth to heaven was late exhal'd.R. Wi.
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.
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.
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.
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 durstThus set them ope.Cr.
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 durstThus set them ope.Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Now Thou art open wide; the barrier dearOf Thy great heart unclos'd by cruel spear;And nails as keys unlock Thee everywhere.Ah, he whose wicked hand thus forc'd the gateOf heaven, perhaps at heaven's shut door will waitOne day, with outer darkness for his fate.G.
Now Thou art open wide; the barrier dearOf Thy great heart unclos'd by cruel spear;And nails as keys unlock Thee everywhere.Ah, he whose wicked hand thus forc'd the gateOf heaven, perhaps at heaven's shut door will waitOne day, with outer darkness for his fate.G.
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.
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 yetThyselfe didst set;'Tis chang'd indeed: did Autumn e're such beauties bringTo shame his Spring?O, who so hard an husbandman could ever findA soyle so kind?Is not the soile a kind one, thinke ye, that returnesRoses for thornes?Cr.
Knowst thou this, souldier? 'tis a much-chang'd plant, which yetThyselfe didst set;'Tis chang'd indeed: did Autumn e're such beauties bringTo shame his Spring?O, who so hard an husbandman could ever findA soyle so kind?Is not the soile a kind one, thinke ye, that returnesRoses 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.
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.
Joan. iii. 1-21.
Nox erat, et Christum, Doctor male docte, petebasIn 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.
Nox erat, et Christum, Doctor male docte, petebasIn 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 broughtBut while attent He speaks to theeBenignant 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 lightSuch 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.
'Twas night; and, Teacher all untaught,Thy darkness thou to Christ hast broughtBut while attent He speaks to theeBenignant 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 lightSuch 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.
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?
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.