Hymns and Poems Original and Translated: By Edward Caswall ... Second Edition |
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| I. | I. THE EASTER SHIP, A LEGEND. |
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 | Hymns and Poems |  |
I. THE EASTER SHIP, A LEGEND.
Dies venit, dies tua,
In qua reflorent omnia.
Lætemur et nos in viam
Tua reducti dextera.
In qua reflorent omnia.
Lætemur et nos in viam
Tua reducti dextera.
All ye who lament o'er England's fall
From the Holy Catholic Faith!
Hear what the Hermit of Finisterre
From his rocky eyry saith:
From the Holy Catholic Faith!
Hear what the Hermit of Finisterre
From his rocky eyry saith:
Last of that ancient brotherhood,
Who forth from Tintern's Choir,
Were forced across the roaring seas
By wicked Henry's ire!
Who forth from Tintern's Choir,
Were forced across the roaring seas
By wicked Henry's ire!
He saith, that early one Easter morn,
In false Elizabeth's reign,
Musing sadly o'er England's fall,
He was looking out on the main;
In false Elizabeth's reign,
Musing sadly o'er England's fall,
He was looking out on the main;
From his narrow ledge of beetling rock,
Athwart the basaltic steep,
That foremost stands confronting the swell
Of the broad Atlantic deep;
Athwart the basaltic steep,
That foremost stands confronting the swell
Of the broad Atlantic deep;
413
When he saw a Ship in the misty dawn
Becalm'd on the silent sea;
Her sails all drooping—her helm unwatch'd—
As though no crew had she!
Becalm'd on the silent sea;
Her sails all drooping—her helm unwatch'd—
As though no crew had she!
From stem to stern so quaintly shaped,
A ship of Eld it seem'd;
Anon some birthling of the dawn,
So goldenly it gleam'd.
A ship of Eld it seem'd;
Anon some birthling of the dawn,
So goldenly it gleam'd.
Then as he gazed, there suddenly burst
A storm right overhead,
So deadly black, at once he knew
From Satan's breath it sped.
A storm right overhead,
So deadly black, at once he knew
From Satan's breath it sped.
And, lo! before his very eyes
That Ship went sinking down;
Till nought at last of hull or mast
Was left but a spar alone;—
That Ship went sinking down;
Till nought at last of hull or mast
Was left but a spar alone;—
The topmost spar!—whence gallantly still,
In the face of the storm unfurl'd,
Old England's Catholic ensign waved,
The Cross that rules the world!
In the face of the storm unfurl'd,
Old England's Catholic ensign waved,
The Cross that rules the world!
Ah, then I thought that all was o'er;
And I breathed aloft a prayer,
For all who, with the sinking Ship,
Were cruelly sinking there.
And I breathed aloft a prayer,
For all who, with the sinking Ship,
Were cruelly sinking there.
When, lo! a wonder most strange to tell!
But stranger far to see!
A wonder I scarce could have believed,
Had it been told to me!
But stranger far to see!
A wonder I scarce could have believed,
Had it been told to me!
For scarce had the Cross the waters kiss'd,
When, ere they could o'er it close,
Slowly—slowly—it mounted again,
And again the spar uprose;—
When, ere they could o'er it close,
Slowly—slowly—it mounted again,
And again the spar uprose;—
414
And after the spar the three tall masts
With sails of glistering white;
And after the masts the Ship herself,
With all her armoury bright.
With sails of glistering white;
And after the masts the Ship herself,
With all her armoury bright.
While softly and softly over the sea
I heard a music pass,
Soothing the winds and soothing the waves,
Till they lay as molten glass;
I heard a music pass,
Soothing the winds and soothing the waves,
Till they lay as molten glass;
And in the East a vista began
To open, fold in fold,
Streaking all the ocean flood
With veins of purple and gold.
To open, fold in fold,
Streaking all the ocean flood
With veins of purple and gold.
For now had risen the blessed Sun
Of the Resurrection Morn;
And his broad beam in one full stream
Upon the Ship was borne:
Of the Resurrection Morn;
And his broad beam in one full stream
Upon the Ship was borne:
Whose deck one living topaz seem'd;
Each mast, a sapphire bright;
Each cord, of rainbow tissue wrought,
Each sail, of sheeted light;
Each mast, a sapphire bright;
Each cord, of rainbow tissue wrought,
Each sail, of sheeted light;
The whole so wondrously appearing
Transfigured before mine eyes,
That the sight it fill'd my heart with tears,
My soul with Paradise.
Transfigured before mine eyes,
That the sight it fill'd my heart with tears,
My soul with Paradise.
Thus as I gazed, there stole along
A softly fanning breeze,
Breathing a solemn incense fresh
From Isles of the Southern seas.
A softly fanning breeze,
Breathing a solemn incense fresh
From Isles of the Southern seas.
The sails, they fill'd—the Ship she began
To walk the waters o'er;—
Full straight she steer'd;—full well I mark'd
She steer'd for England's shore:
To walk the waters o'er;—
Full straight she steer'd;—full well I mark'd
She steer'd for England's shore:
415
While on her deck in the sun's bright ray
There knelt, in place of a crew,
A goodly company all in prayer,
Whom for England's Saints I knew:
There knelt, in place of a crew,
A goodly company all in prayer,
Whom for England's Saints I knew:
Save Her who stood at the helm apart,
With a calm majestic mien;
And Her I knew, by her robe of blue,
To be Heaven's immortal Queen!
With a calm majestic mien;
And Her I knew, by her robe of blue,
To be Heaven's immortal Queen!
That Virgin Mother, who loves the Isle
Where she was beloved of yore;
That Virgin Mother, who loves it still,
Though it loves Her now no more.
Where she was beloved of yore;
That Virgin Mother, who loves it still,
Though it loves Her now no more.
O Vision of bliss!—She turn'd her head;
She smiled benignly on me;
Pointing her hand to my native land,
Far Northward over the sea.
She smiled benignly on me;
Pointing her hand to my native land,
Far Northward over the sea.
Then faster and faster the vessel sped,
O'er the breadth of the bounding surge;
Till into a speck I beheld it fade,
On the dim horizon's verge.
O'er the breadth of the bounding surge;
Till into a speck I beheld it fade,
On the dim horizon's verge.
Such was the Vision, divinely fair,
That on Easter Sunday morn,
I, the Hermit of Finisterre,
Beheld at break of dawn.
That on Easter Sunday morn,
I, the Hermit of Finisterre,
Beheld at break of dawn.
And twice again, in the next two years,
Believe it as ye may,
The selfsame thing at the selfsame hour
I saw on the selfsame day.
Believe it as ye may,
The selfsame thing at the selfsame hour
I saw on the selfsame day.
Now, therefore, ye who for England weep,
As lost for ever to God,
Down in the black and dismal deep
Of heresy's awful flood,
As lost for ever to God,
Down in the black and dismal deep
Of heresy's awful flood,
416
Give ear, give ear to this prophecy,
Which, with his parting breath,
The last of Tintern's exiled sons
For your consolation saith.
Which, with his parting breath,
The last of Tintern's exiled sons
For your consolation saith.
Three centuries shall England lie
Beneath the storm of Hell;
Three centuries her Church shall fade,
And all but seem to fail;
Beneath the storm of Hell;
Three centuries her Church shall fade,
And all but seem to fail;
Three centuries her Saints shall mourn
To see the Faith expire;
Ivy shall climb and birds shall sing
In many a ruin'd choir.
To see the Faith expire;
Ivy shall climb and birds shall sing
In many a ruin'd choir.
But in the fourth, on Peter's chair
A Pope shall sit and reign,
Who in the Virgin's glorious might
Shall turn the tide again.
A Pope shall sit and reign,
Who in the Virgin's glorious might
Shall turn the tide again.
He first to all the world shall give
The long-desired Decree
Proclaiming our sweet Lady's gift
Of peerless Purity.
The long-desired Decree
Proclaiming our sweet Lady's gift
Of peerless Purity.
Shall name Her the Immaculate,
Without a stain conceived;
And stamp the doctrine as of Faith
Immutably believed.
Without a stain conceived;
And stamp the doctrine as of Faith
Immutably believed.
She, in return, to Peter's crown
Shall gratefully restore
Its long-lost gem, the Isle of Saints,
Far brighter than before;
Shall gratefully restore
Its long-lost gem, the Isle of Saints,
Far brighter than before;
Cleansed with the blood of martyr'd priests,
And virgins' holy tears,
That must for guilty England flow
Through many doleful years.
And virgins' holy tears,
That must for guilty England flow
Through many doleful years.
417
Then shall the children think again
Of their dear Fathers' home;
And fly, as doves upon the wing,
To long-forgotten Rome.
Of their dear Fathers' home;
And fly, as doves upon the wing,
To long-forgotten Rome.
Then shall the Abbey rear its head,
And open wide its door,
And lift its sacrificial chant,
As in the days of yore.
And open wide its door,
And lift its sacrificial chant,
As in the days of yore.
Then shall the glorious Cross of Christ
No more dishonour'd lie;
Then shall the throne of Britain mourn
Its long apostasy;
No more dishonour'd lie;
Then shall the throne of Britain mourn
Its long apostasy;
Then shall the sons of Scotia hide
The wreck their fathers made;
Then Celt and Saxon shall unite
Beneath St. Peter's shade.
The wreck their fathers made;
Then Celt and Saxon shall unite
Beneath St. Peter's shade.
Then rank in rank, and file on file,
The armies of the Lord
Shall march, to spread through England's breadth
The Faith so long abhorr'd;
The armies of the Lord
Shall march, to spread through England's breadth
The Faith so long abhorr'd;
Which, once received, shall forth again
As from a centre sweep,
Borne on the wings of England's fleets
Across the trackless deep,
As from a centre sweep,
Borne on the wings of England's fleets
Across the trackless deep,
To earth's remotest empires
Now sunk in night forlorn;
To Isles, and shoreless Continents
Of nations yet unborn:
Now sunk in night forlorn;
To Isles, and shoreless Continents
Of nations yet unborn:
Till such a harvest shall be reap'd,
Beyond the world's belief,
As shall console the Church of God
For centuries of grief.
Beyond the world's belief,
As shall console the Church of God
For centuries of grief.
418
E'en now, O England, I behold,
With solemn pace and slow,
Through thy long desecrated shrines
The glad Procession go.
With solemn pace and slow,
Through thy long desecrated shrines
The glad Procession go.
I see the mitred Pontiff tread
Their festal aisles along;
I see the Crucifix o'erhead;
I hear their olden song.
Their festal aisles along;
I see the Crucifix o'erhead;
I hear their olden song.
The fragrant incense high aloft
Its waving circlet weaves;
And Heaven again into its fold
Its erring child receives.
Its waving circlet weaves;
And Heaven again into its fold
Its erring child receives.
O day, O blissful day, for thee
How many saints have sigh'd!
And only to behold thy face
Most gladly would have died.
How many saints have sigh'd!
And only to behold thy face
Most gladly would have died.
O prayer of longing Christendom!
O balm for sorrows past!
What joy 'twill be when thou shalt come!
As come thou shalt at last.
O balm for sorrows past!
What joy 'twill be when thou shalt come!
As come thou shalt at last.
Such is the hope that evermore
My lonely spirit cheers.
O Jesu! speed the time;—O speed
The intervening years!
My lonely spirit cheers.
O Jesu! speed the time;—O speed
The intervening years!
And grant of Thy dear mercy, Lord,
That when these things shall be,
I, safe from my long pilgrimage
In living light with Thee,
That when these things shall be,
I, safe from my long pilgrimage
In living light with Thee,
May from the crystal battlements
That day of days behold;
And in the sight, for present grief,
Rejoice a thousandfold.
That day of days behold;
And in the sight, for present grief,
Rejoice a thousandfold.
| Hymns and Poems | |