 | Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious |  |
125
TRANSLATIONS AND PARAPHRASES.
126
SAINT PATRICK'S BREASTPLATE.
[_]
The original of this poem is in Irish, except the last stanza, which is in Latin. I have represented the Latin by longer lines than the rest. The irregular stanzas represent those of the original. I am ignorant of Irish, and have made this version from the literal English translation by Dr. Whitley Stokes, which is printed in the Appendix.
This poem is certainly very ancient, and is probably the work of Saint Patrick. Its name of “Breastplate” (Irish luirech, from the Latin lorica) arises from the Irish custom of repeating it, and other poems, as a protection against danger.
I bind as armour on my breast
The Threefold Name whereon I call,
Of Father, Son, and Spirit Blest,
Who maketh and sustaineth all.
The Threefold Name whereon I call,
Of Father, Son, and Spirit Blest,
Who maketh and sustaineth all.
I bind as armour on my breast
The power of Him from heaven who came
To make the Godhead manifest;
His baptism, and His cross of shame,
His burial, and His opened grave;
And God's Almighty power, whereby
He rose, ascended up on high,
And shall return to judge and save.
The power of Him from heaven who came
To make the Godhead manifest;
His baptism, and His cross of shame,
His burial, and His opened grave;
And God's Almighty power, whereby
He rose, ascended up on high,
And shall return to judge and save.
127
I bind as armour on my breast,
In hope a heavenly crown to win,
The obedience and the love wherein
Angels and seraphs are possessed,
With faithful prayer and worthy deed
Of all the saints in history's roll,
Who kept unstained their holy creed
And virgin purity of soul.
In hope a heavenly crown to win,
The obedience and the love wherein
Angels and seraphs are possessed,
With faithful prayer and worthy deed
Of all the saints in history's roll,
Who kept unstained their holy creed
And virgin purity of soul.
I bind as armour on my breast
The might of God, made manifest
In Heaven, and on the stedfast earth;
The glory of the sun on high,
The brightness of a moonlit sky,
The lightning's wildly flashing mirth;
The splendour and the glow of fire,
The storm that rushes in its ire;
The strength that girds the rocky steep,
The vastness of the unfathomed deep.
The might of God, made manifest
In Heaven, and on the stedfast earth;
The glory of the sun on high,
The brightness of a moonlit sky,
The lightning's wildly flashing mirth;
The splendour and the glow of fire,
The storm that rushes in its ire;
The strength that girds the rocky steep,
The vastness of the unfathomed deep.
I bind as armour on my breast
The Wisdom which shall be my Guide;
The Shield whose shelter bids me rest
In peace, whatever ills betide;
The Eye of God, to search my thought;
His Ear, my prayer of faith to hear;
His Word, to make my words be fraught
With courage which His foes shall fear;
His angel host, to guard my path
Against all human guile and wrath,
Against the tempter's lures to sin,
Against the lusts that strive within.
The Wisdom which shall be my Guide;
The Shield whose shelter bids me rest
In peace, whatever ills betide;
The Eye of God, to search my thought;
His Ear, my prayer of faith to hear;
His Word, to make my words be fraught
With courage which His foes shall fear;
His angel host, to guard my path
Against all human guile and wrath,
Against the tempter's lures to sin,
Against the lusts that strive within.
128
All these I bind upon my breast
Against my foes in earth and hell;
Against the sorcerer's chanted spell;
Idols, confessed or unconfessed;
Falsehood of heresy, and powers
That rule the heathen in the hours
Of darkness; women's evil wiles;
And all the knowledge that defiles.
Against my foes in earth and hell;
Against the sorcerer's chanted spell;
Idols, confessed or unconfessed;
Falsehood of heresy, and powers
That rule the heathen in the hours
Of darkness; women's evil wiles;
And all the knowledge that defiles.
Guard me and shield me, Christ my Lord!
Guard me against my foes' desire,
Guard me from danger of the fire,
Guard me against the hostile shaft,
Guard me against the poisoner's craft,
Guard me from danger of the sea;—
Guard me, O Christ, in serving Thee,
And make me share the great reward.
Guard me against my foes' desire,
Guard me from danger of the fire,
Guard me against the hostile shaft,
Guard me against the poisoner's craft,
Guard me from danger of the sea;—
Guard me, O Christ, in serving Thee,
And make me share the great reward.
Christ be within me and around;
Christ on my left hand and my right;
May Christ in all my thoughts be found,
Christ in all breadth and depth and height!
May Christ be in their eyes that see
Thy servant, and their ears that hear;
Christ in his thoughts who thinks on me,
Christ on his lips who draweth near.
Christ on my left hand and my right;
May Christ in all my thoughts be found,
Christ in all breadth and depth and height!
May Christ be in their eyes that see
Thy servant, and their ears that hear;
Christ in his thoughts who thinks on me,
Christ on his lips who draweth near.
I bind as armour on my breast
The Threefold Name whereon I call,
Of Father, Son, and Spirit Blest,
Who maketh and sustaineth all.
The Threefold Name whereon I call,
Of Father, Son, and Spirit Blest,
Who maketh and sustaineth all.
Salvation is of Thee, the Incarnate Word;
Now and for ever save us, Christ our Lord!
Now and for ever save us, Christ our Lord!
129
BUNSEN TO HIS FRIEND ROTHE.
Being the Dedication of Bunsen's “Philosophy of Universal History.”
Once we wove the bond of friendship on the Capitolian hill,
While thou wast, with power of spirit, making known Our Father's will;
While we both, in faith and patience, laboured at the work sublime
Which the nobler soul of manhood consecrates to God through time.
While thou wast, with power of spirit, making known Our Father's will;
While we both, in faith and patience, laboured at the work sublime
Which the nobler soul of manhood consecrates to God through time.
Thirty years have since passed o'er us, bringing care and bringing gloom;
Youthful strength and joy have vanished, youthful hope has lost its bloom;
But our early aspirations yet retain the force of youth,
Strong as when at first they urged us toward the goal of heavenly truth;
Youthful strength and joy have vanished, youthful hope has lost its bloom;
But our early aspirations yet retain the force of youth,
Strong as when at first they urged us toward the goal of heavenly truth;
And our early friendship, changeless through the time that onward rolls,
Draws us both, in soul united, toward the fatherland of souls.
For we know the human spirit has on earth by flashes shone,
And in God's eternal kingdom shall become His living throne;
Draws us both, in soul united, toward the fatherland of souls.
130
And in God's eternal kingdom shall become His living throne;
And we know that God is calling on our Fatherland again;
And we feel a heavenly Spirit breathing on the hearts of men;
And we trust that all our nation's wounds and sufferings He will heal,
And His power before the enfranchised German nation will reveal.
And we feel a heavenly Spirit breathing on the hearts of men;
And we trust that all our nation's wounds and sufferings He will heal,
And His power before the enfranchised German nation will reveal.
That which lives for self must perish in the flood of death unwept,
But what lives for human glory in the ark shall safe be kept;
Every word, and note, and image, glorified by thought Divine,
Through the night of earthly ages, to the latest years will shine.
But what lives for human glory in the ark shall safe be kept;
Every word, and note, and image, glorified by thought Divine,
Through the night of earthly ages, to the latest years will shine.
From the temple that we gazed on when the morn of faith was red,
I have saved a fragment, spared me in the time of want and dread.
Bend thy soul—thou canst, O Teacher!—toward the Builder's plan of old,
That our spirits in the ruins all its glory may behold.
I have saved a fragment, spared me in the time of want and dread.
Bend thy soul—thou canst, O Teacher!—toward the Builder's plan of old,
That our spirits in the ruins all its glory may behold.
131
THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.
They come—they come—the foemen's haughty ships,
With clang of fetters and a faith abhorred,
And thunder on their cannon's brazen lips;—
They come to waste thy shores with fire and sword.
With clang of fetters and a faith abhorred,
And thunder on their cannon's brazen lips;—
They come to waste thy shores with fire and sword.
A floating host of mighty citadels,
Onward they sail with slow majestic motion;
Invincible their name; while scarcely swells
Beneath their mighty bulk the awestruck ocean.
Onward they sail with slow majestic motion;
Invincible their name; while scarcely swells
Beneath their mighty bulk the awestruck ocean.
Each tempest holds his breath; a breeze unfolds
Their flags, half-imaged in the water's breast;
Death, slavery, and destruction in their holds,
They calmly glide; and sky and ocean rest
Their flags, half-imaged in the water's breast;
Death, slavery, and destruction in their holds,
They calmly glide; and sky and ocean rest
As for the gathering of a tempest-cloud,
To burst in ruin on thy fated shore.
England, thou must not fall!—the free, aloud,
Shall wail thy doom when thou art free no more.
To burst in ruin on thy fated shore.
England, thou must not fall!—the free, aloud,
Shall wail thy doom when thou art free no more.
132
What saved thee then? was it thy warriors, sprung
From Norman chiefs that sailed and fought of old?
Was it thy Magna Charta, bravely wrung
From kings, by men that knew their rights to hold?
From Norman chiefs that sailed and fought of old?
Was it thy Magna Charta, bravely wrung
From kings, by men that knew their rights to hold?
No! but thy God did not abandon thee
To be the prey of tyrants;—thee He cherished
To be the chosen guardian of the free;—
God, the Almighty, breathed upon the sea,
And the Armada perished
To be the prey of tyrants;—thee He cherished
To be the chosen guardian of the free;—
God, the Almighty, breathed upon the sea,
And the Armada perished
133
FROM SCHILLER'S SONG OF THE BELL.
Summer her bloom must shed,Ere Autumn's fruit can swell;
And Passion in many a heart is dead
Where Love remains to dwell.
FROM THE GERMAN OF KÖRNER.
Not easy is our fight of faith;The glory must be hardly won.
The vintage must be crushed in death
Before the purple wine can run;
And ere a spirit heavenward go,
A heart must break in death below.
134
MOONLIGHT.
Above the east horizon
The moon floats round and bright;
The spirit-haunted ruin
Is seen against the light.
From beds of moss the glow-worms
Shine clear with light-green ray;
Over the reedy quagmire
Marsh-meteors lightly play.
The moon floats round and bright;
The spirit-haunted ruin
Is seen against the light.
From beds of moss the glow-worms
Shine clear with light-green ray;
Over the reedy quagmire
Marsh-meteors lightly play.
The church-tower windows glimmer
Against the rising beams;
Upon the glassy water
Reflected starlight gleams;
In silver wave the cornfields
Under the moonlight pale;
The pine-clad mountain weareth
A white and misty veil.
Against the rising beams;
Upon the glassy water
Reflected starlight gleams;
In silver wave the cornfields
Under the moonlight pale;
The pine-clad mountain weareth
A white and misty veil.
135
How beautiful the moonbeams
In lines of silver gleam
Upon the gentle ripple
That dances on the stream
Which here flows under alders,
And there through meadow-flowers,
And from the restless mill-wheel
Falls down in silver showers!
In lines of silver gleam
Upon the gentle ripple
That dances on the stream
Which here flows under alders,
And there through meadow-flowers,
And from the restless mill-wheel
Falls down in silver showers!
136
MEDITATIONS OF A DEAF MUTE.
[_]
The original of the following is from the introduction to “Poesies d'un Sourd-Muet, par M. P. Pelissier, Professeur-Suppleant à l'Institut Royal des Sourds Muets de Paris; avec une Introduction par M. Laurent de Jussien. Libraire de Charles Gosselin, 1844.” It is printed in the Appendix to the present volume.
Voice of our fleeting joys thou art,
And echo of our lengthened woes,
O Poetry! thou art what overflows
From the full human heart,
And through all nature spreads;—the wind's low sigh,
The reed that whispers mournfully,
The bird, its songs outpouring,
The ocean's murmurs that for ever rise,
The thunder loudly roaring,
In human joy and sorrow sympathize.
And echo of our lengthened woes,
O Poetry! thou art what overflows
From the full human heart,
And through all nature spreads;—the wind's low sigh,
The reed that whispers mournfully,
The bird, its songs outpouring,
The ocean's murmurs that for ever rise,
The thunder loudly roaring,
In human joy and sorrow sympathize.
But I—must I, for whom
The silence of the tomb
Pervadeth all, remain apart, alone?
And must all harmony
For ever be to me
A thing unshared in, unenjoyed, unknown?
Are not imagination's dreams the notes
Of a rich spiritual melody
Wherein my soul in tranquil gladness floats,
Like clouds that float in sunset's golden sea?
The silence of the tomb
Pervadeth all, remain apart, alone?
And must all harmony
For ever be to me
A thing unshared in, unenjoyed, unknown?
137
Of a rich spiritual melody
Wherein my soul in tranquil gladness floats,
Like clouds that float in sunset's golden sea?
When into reverie I fall,
Music ineffable and deep
Within my heart arises:—all
My being then doth silence keep
As if to hear my soul pour forth her song,
And then a thrill of joy runs all my veins along.
Music ineffable and deep
Within my heart arises:—all
My being then doth silence keep
As if to hear my soul pour forth her song,
And then a thrill of joy runs all my veins along.
In hours like these my fancy taketh wings,
And, passing that vague space which separates
Realities from unsubstantial things,
New worlds of music for herself creates.
And, passing that vague space which separates
Realities from unsubstantial things,
New worlds of music for herself creates.
All things, however great, that men invent,
Like man, are finite; but the rich gifts sent
By God are infinite, and ever true,
And ever beautiful, and ever new.
Like man, are finite; but the rich gifts sent
By God are infinite, and ever true,
And ever beautiful, and ever new.
The harmony of sound is sealed to me,
And yet I think I can its nature know.
And ye—know ye the ideal melody
That hovers, like a dove with plumes of snow,
In the mystic heaven where my imagination
Revels in beauty, all her own creation?
And yet I think I can its nature know.
And ye—know ye the ideal melody
That hovers, like a dove with plumes of snow,
In the mystic heaven where my imagination
Revels in beauty, all her own creation?
138
INVOCATION.
Father which art in heaven!For love of Christ accept our songs of praise.
Our souls would glorify Thy wondrous ways,
And all the blessings given,
Father of mercies! by Thy loving power,
Which Thy good Spirit on our hearts doth shower.
139
AUTUMN AND DEATH.
The woods are glorious to behold,
But all their hues are hues of death;
The autumn blast is keen and cold,
And soon the russet and the gold
Must drift before the tempest's breath.
But all their hues are hues of death;
The autumn blast is keen and cold,
And soon the russet and the gold
Must drift before the tempest's breath.
And we, like leaves, must fall and die.
But let me through the ages lie
Where grass is green, where bloom the flowers,
Where earth shall press me to her breast,
Where nought may break my dreamless rest.
I shall not mark the passing hours,
Nor hear the birds, nor feel the rain.
Oh, sweet is sleep that follows pain,
With silence sweeter far than sound!
But let the light enfold me round,
And let me feel that Heaven is near,
And deep, and awful in its clear
And burning heights; and let me gaze
Through all its depths, upon the throne
Of Him who dwelleth there unknown,
Or known in Love's mysterious ways
To mortals and immortals shown
By Him who came, a world to save,
And wept above a human grave.
But let me through the ages lie
Where grass is green, where bloom the flowers,
Where earth shall press me to her breast,
Where nought may break my dreamless rest.
I shall not mark the passing hours,
Nor hear the birds, nor feel the rain.
Oh, sweet is sleep that follows pain,
With silence sweeter far than sound!
But let the light enfold me round,
And let me feel that Heaven is near,
And deep, and awful in its clear
140
Through all its depths, upon the throne
Of Him who dwelleth there unknown,
Or known in Love's mysterious ways
To mortals and immortals shown
By Him who came, a world to save,
And wept above a human grave.
148
THE END.
| Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious | |