 | Carmina crucis |  |
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2. Second Part.
“God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of
our Lord Iesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified
unto me, and I unto the world.”
—Galatians vi. 14.
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L'ENVOI.
My root of life is in Thy grave,
This flower that blooms above
I have no care to keep or save,
Its hues are dim, its stay is brief,
I know not if its name be grief,
Oh! let it pass for Love.
This flower that blooms above
I have no care to keep or save,
Its hues are dim, its stay is brief,
I know not if its name be grief,
Oh! let it pass for Love.
Oh! let it pass for Love, dear Lord,
And lift it from Thy tomb,
A little while upon Thy breast
To yield its scent and bloom;
In life, in dying to be blest
It needs but little room!
And lift it from Thy tomb,
A little while upon Thy breast
To yield its scent and bloom;
In life, in dying to be blest
It needs but little room!
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A PASTORAL.
A simple shepherd I,
Unskill'd to guard or tend
My flocks that wander slow,
But little prized by friend,
But little feared by foe;
Yet sweet and many are the songs I know.
Unskill'd to guard or tend
My flocks that wander slow,
But little prized by friend,
But little feared by foe;
Yet sweet and many are the songs I know.
In youth no gentle art
Was mine to learn or teach;
As shepherds wont, my speech
Was rude, unapt to reach
The ear, or win the heart,
Till, where moist willows grew, a slender reed
I found, and fashion'd fitly to my need.
Was mine to learn or teach;
As shepherds wont, my speech
Was rude, unapt to reach
The ear, or win the heart,
Till, where moist willows grew, a slender reed
I found, and fashion'd fitly to my need.
Then from the sedgy brook,
Where yet its kindred shook,
A sigh so deep, so sweet, so piercing broke,
That ere I knew, a sigh
Went back in fond reply,
And on my lips a sudden song awoke.
Where yet its kindred shook,
A sigh so deep, so sweet, so piercing broke,
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Went back in fond reply,
And on my lips a sudden song awoke.
With each warm tender thing
That thrust its head in spring,
From earth's dark breast, my spirit communed free;
A soul that loves and grieves
Would speak from out the leaves,
The clouds stole down the hills to talk with me.
That thrust its head in spring,
From earth's dark breast, my spirit communed free;
A soul that loves and grieves
Would speak from out the leaves,
The clouds stole down the hills to talk with me.
And oft with unconfess'd
Fond instinct, only guess'd,
Through some quick pressure, all the silent air,
The while I sang, would fill
With light, would throb and thrill
As if a mighty heart were beating there.
Fond instinct, only guess'd,
Through some quick pressure, all the silent air,
The while I sang, would fill
With light, would throb and thrill
As if a mighty heart were beating there.
And while I sang, the swains
That listen'd, straight forgot
How fierce upon the plains
The sun, the shepherd's lot
How hard—their slender gains,
Their ceaseless, thankless toils, remembering not.
That listen'd, straight forgot
How fierce upon the plains
The sun, the shepherd's lot
How hard—their slender gains,
Their ceaseless, thankless toils, remembering not.
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And while I sang, the maid
On tiptoe unafraid
Would steal at shut of eve, and linger long,
With parted lips, and shy
Sweet, unaverted eye,
Forgetting still the singer in the song.
On tiptoe unafraid
Would steal at shut of eve, and linger long,
With parted lips, and shy
Sweet, unaverted eye,
Forgetting still the singer in the song.
I sang of war, of love,
Of gods that reign above
In bliss, of men that suffer—still I sung
Of deeper pangs, of tears
More sweet, that fell in years
Of broader flight, while yet our earth was young.
Of gods that reign above
In bliss, of men that suffer—still I sung
Of deeper pangs, of tears
More sweet, that fell in years
Of broader flight, while yet our earth was young.
So sang I until song
Forsook me; I would tell
How this my strain so well
Beloved, beloved so long,
Fell from my lips, as falls the star,
As falls the leaf, to dwell
(If yet it lives) apart, afar
Like echo shut within a secret dell.
Forsook me; I would tell
How this my strain so well
Beloved, beloved so long,
Fell from my lips, as falls the star,
As falls the leaf, to dwell
(If yet it lives) apart, afar
Like echo shut within a secret dell.
It was the summer prime
Of noon, the sleeping time
Of Pan, no leaflet stirr'd, yet from the ground
Whereon I lay, the clear
Low breathing met mine ear
Of woods, rocks, vales, and hills in slumber bound.
Of noon, the sleeping time
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Whereon I lay, the clear
Low breathing met mine ear
Of woods, rocks, vales, and hills in slumber bound.
And on the air a slow
Sweet shining now would grow,
And o'er the sunny spaces flit and fail,
As if beloved and fair,
Earth softly, unaware,
Smiled 'neath the secret of her folded veil.
Sweet shining now would grow,
And o'er the sunny spaces flit and fail,
As if beloved and fair,
Earth softly, unaware,
Smiled 'neath the secret of her folded veil.
Beneath the beechen shade
The golden sunbeams stray'd
In sleep, my flock slept round me, all was still;
When from afar I caught
A flute's clear note, methought
Some shepherd bids me to a contest of sweet skill.
The golden sunbeams stray'd
In sleep, my flock slept round me, all was still;
When from afar I caught
A flute's clear note, methought
Some shepherd bids me to a contest of sweet skill.
It ceased, and at its close
A Voice in song arose,
So sword-like sweet, it seem'd to cleave the thin
Warm air, and still, with soft
Delay, to question oft,
And still to woo, and evermore to win.
A Voice in song arose,
So sword-like sweet, it seem'd to cleave the thin
Warm air, and still, with soft
Delay, to question oft,
And still to woo, and evermore to win.
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This was no ancient tale
Of flying nymph, or bold
Free hunter, this no old
Fond funereal wail
For Youth slow fading by a fountain's side
And yet a high lament
Through all its changes went,
It told of One that loved, it told of One that died.
Of flying nymph, or bold
Free hunter, this no old
Fond funereal wail
For Youth slow fading by a fountain's side
And yet a high lament
Through all its changes went,
It told of One that loved, it told of One that died.
It told of rude disgrace,
And of an anguish'd face
It told, methought; and of a wounded Friend.
Of pain it told, and shame;
Of love that overcame
Through simple skill of loving to the end.
And of an anguish'd face
It told, methought; and of a wounded Friend.
Of pain it told, and shame;
Of love that overcame
Through simple skill of loving to the end.
A silence on the plain,
A silence on the hill,
To hear that song again,
I listen, listen still.
Oh, sweet to me my vain
Old songs and stories free,
Thy story sad and plain
Is now more sweet to me.
A silence on the hill,
To hear that song again,
I listen, listen still.
Oh, sweet to me my vain
Old songs and stories free,
Thy story sad and plain
Is now more sweet to me.
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Take, Shepherd, take thy prize,
For who like thee can sing?
No fleece of mingled dyes,
No apples fair, I bring;
No smooth two-handled bowl,
Wrought with the clasping vine—
Take, take my heart and soul,
My songs, for they are thine!
For who like thee can sing?
No fleece of mingled dyes,
No apples fair, I bring;
No smooth two-handled bowl,
Wrought with the clasping vine—
Take, take my heart and soul,
My songs, for they are thine!
Oh! sing thy song again,
And these of mine may pass
As quick as summer rain
Dries on the thirsty grass.
Thou wouldst not do me wrong,
Thou wilt not silent be;
Thy one, thy only song,
Dear Shepherd, teach to me!
And these of mine may pass
As quick as summer rain
Dries on the thirsty grass.
Thou wouldst not do me wrong,
Thou wilt not silent be;
Thy one, thy only song,
Dear Shepherd, teach to me!
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A MYSTERY.
“Ego autem dico in Christo et in Ecclesia.”
A bird sings clear within the darkling wood;
Sing sweet, oh bird, though wounded be thy breast;
Although thy song of few be understood,
A song of love is thine—a song of rest.
Sing sweet, oh bird, though wounded be thy breast;
Although thy song of few be understood,
A song of love is thine—a song of rest.
A rose beneath it blooms—a rose unfed
By earthly mould, unnourish'd by the dew,
Yet rich the rose's fragrance, ruby red
In every leaf, as if its heart burn'd through.
By earthly mould, unnourish'd by the dew,
Yet rich the rose's fragrance, ruby red
In every leaf, as if its heart burn'd through.
And when the bird is silent, then the rose
Gives forth no odour, yields no light nor bloom—
Death-stricken pale, its petals shrink and close,
And all the air grows silent as a tomb.
Gives forth no odour, yields no light nor bloom—
Death-stricken pale, its petals shrink and close,
And all the air grows silent as a tomb.
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And when the bird sings clearest most it grieves
O'er its deep wound; then from its heart o'erflows
A crimson drop, that on the rose's leaves
Falls with the song, then sweetest is the rose.
O'er its deep wound; then from its heart o'erflows
A crimson drop, that on the rose's leaves
Falls with the song, then sweetest is the rose.
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QUIS SEPARABIT?
I am no warrior. Lo,
What skill have hands like mine the sword to wield?
A singer of old songs, I wander slow
By many a haunted stream, by many a field;
Where, stooping down, I yet can hear the low
Hoarse battle murmur ring from lance and shield.
Amid thick woods I stray, where long ago
Fond lovers met; and oft a darker thrill
Steals from some spot whereon no grasses grow,
No kind rains fall, no breezes lightly blow.
Enough of love, enough of grief, I know,
Enough of crime! Earth's story chains me still.
What marvel, then, that me a cruel foe
Should track from grove to stream with stealthy skill?
What marvel, then, that on the waters' flow
Strange sounds should rise to me instinct with ill?
Strange aspects gleam from out the wood, and low
And mocking voices reach me from the hill?
I was not strong to fight, nor swift to fly,
Oh! let me reach the mountain or I die!
But as I cross'd a level plain the air
Grew still as death; the singing lark dropp'd mute
Beside the daisy wither'd to its root.
Then came an ice-cold wind, and suddenly
The storm brake forth; then saw I lifted high
The Cross stand bare between the darken'd sky
And pallid earth; as close as can despair
I clasp'd my arms about it.
What skill have hands like mine the sword to wield?
A singer of old songs, I wander slow
By many a haunted stream, by many a field;
Where, stooping down, I yet can hear the low
Hoarse battle murmur ring from lance and shield.
Amid thick woods I stray, where long ago
Fond lovers met; and oft a darker thrill
Steals from some spot whereon no grasses grow,
No kind rains fall, no breezes lightly blow.
Enough of love, enough of grief, I know,
Enough of crime! Earth's story chains me still.
What marvel, then, that me a cruel foe
Should track from grove to stream with stealthy skill?
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Strange sounds should rise to me instinct with ill?
Strange aspects gleam from out the wood, and low
And mocking voices reach me from the hill?
I was not strong to fight, nor swift to fly,
Oh! let me reach the mountain or I die!
But as I cross'd a level plain the air
Grew still as death; the singing lark dropp'd mute
Beside the daisy wither'd to its root.
Then came an ice-cold wind, and suddenly
The storm brake forth; then saw I lifted high
The Cross stand bare between the darken'd sky
And pallid earth; as close as can despair
I clasp'd my arms about it.
Here I die.
I know these slinging shafts, these darts of fire,
That mingle with the arrowy sleet and hail.
Here hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy!
And yet rejoice not thou, by strength shall none prevail.
I know these slinging shafts, these darts of fire,
That mingle with the arrowy sleet and hail.
Here hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy!
And yet rejoice not thou, by strength shall none prevail.
By noon thine arrows fly;
None faileth of its mark; thou dost not tire;
And yet rejoice not thou! Each shaft of fire
That finds me here becomes a living nail.
What strength of thine, what skill can now avail
To tear me from the Cross? My soul and heart
Are fasten'd here! I feel the cloven dart
Pierce keenly through. What hands have power to wring
Me hence? What voice can now so sweetly sing
To lure my spirit from its rest? Oh! now
Rejoice, my soul, for thou
Hast trodden down thy foeman's strength through pain.
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And yet rejoice not thou! Each shaft of fire
That finds me here becomes a living nail.
What strength of thine, what skill can now avail
To tear me from the Cross? My soul and heart
Are fasten'd here! I feel the cloven dart
Pierce keenly through. What hands have power to wring
Me hence? What voice can now so sweetly sing
To lure my spirit from its rest? Oh! now
Rejoice, my soul, for thou
Hast trodden down thy foeman's strength through pain.
Who speaketh now of peace?
Who seeketh for release?
The Cross is strength, the solemn Cross is gain,
The Cross is Jesu's breast,
Here giveth He the rest
That to His best belov'd doth still remain.
Who seeketh for release?
The Cross is strength, the solemn Cross is gain,
The Cross is Jesu's breast,
Here giveth He the rest
That to His best belov'd doth still remain.
How sweet an ended strife!
How sweet a dawning life!
Here will I lie as one that draws his breath
With ease, and hearken what my Saviour saith
Concerning me; the solemn Cross is gain;
Who willeth now to choose?
Who strives to bind or loose?
Sweet life, sweet death, sweet triumph and sweet pain.
How sweet a dawning life!
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With ease, and hearken what my Saviour saith
Concerning me; the solemn Cross is gain;
Who willeth now to choose?
Who strives to bind or loose?
Sweet life, sweet death, sweet triumph and sweet pain.
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THE CROSS.
What
came ye forth to see?
The desert paths are drear;
The desert air is still,
What came ye forth to hear?
A whisper 'mid the reeds,
Or voice of one that pleads,
Persuading soft, or prophet's voice austere?”
The desert paths are drear;
The desert air is still,
What came ye forth to hear?
A whisper 'mid the reeds,
Or voice of one that pleads,
Persuading soft, or prophet's voice austere?”
“I came not forth to look
For prophet or for seer,
For word from lip or book
I wait not, waiting here;
Where neither speech nor voice
Is heard, my spirit's choice
Abides, for unto me
The Lord hath show'd a Tree.”
For prophet or for seer,
For word from lip or book
I wait not, waiting here;
Where neither speech nor voice
Is heard, my spirit's choice
Abides, for unto me
The Lord hath show'd a Tree.”
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“What wouldst thou with this tree,
Bare, leafless, gaunt? On thee
It drops no tendril now,
It stretches forth no bough.
Behold the woods, the summer woods are fair;
On Lebanon the oak
Stands with its heart unbroke
In giant strength; what green leaves tremble there!
The very gourd that springs
And dies within a day,
Will spread its fan-like wings
To shade thee while it may;
The rose is sweet ere yet it pass away,
The lily blooms and fades in still decay.
Bare, leafless, gaunt? On thee
It drops no tendril now,
It stretches forth no bough.
Behold the woods, the summer woods are fair;
On Lebanon the oak
Stands with its heart unbroke
In giant strength; what green leaves tremble there!
The very gourd that springs
And dies within a day,
Will spread its fan-like wings
To shade thee while it may;
The rose is sweet ere yet it pass away,
The lily blooms and fades in still decay.
“Thou lovest well the slow
Sweet lapse of running waters o'er the stone,
The song of birds at early morn, the low
Light, ruffling winds; what findst thou here? a moan;
What hearest thou? a sigh
Half utter'd, 'twixt the sky
And earth, from age to age that seems to die.
Sweet lapse of running waters o'er the stone,
The song of birds at early morn, the low
Light, ruffling winds; what findst thou here? a moan;
What hearest thou? a sigh
Half utter'd, 'twixt the sky
And earth, from age to age that seems to die.
“No bird upon this tree
Will sit and sing to thee;
No flower will spring beneath; all hurry by
That pass this place; the vine
No cluster yields, for wine
None ask, and here the merry-hearted sigh.”
Will sit and sing to thee;
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That pass this place; the vine
No cluster yields, for wine
None ask, and here the merry-hearted sigh.”
“Yet hence I will not stir;
What healing gums distil
From out this tree! Of myrrh
The mount is this, of frankincense the hill,
And all around are fair
Broad meads, with shepherds there
That feed and guard their flocks contented still.
What healing gums distil
From out this tree! Of myrrh
The mount is this, of frankincense the hill,
And all around are fair
Broad meads, with shepherds there
That feed and guard their flocks contented still.
“By Sinai long I stay'd,
And heard a voice that spake to me, ‘This do,
And thou shalt live;’ but when more close I drew,
I saw with hidden fire the mountain shake;
Upon the air I heard the trumpet break
Long, loud and louder yet; what hope had I
When even Moses said, ‘I fear and quake—
Let not God speak unto me, lest I die!’
And heard a voice that spake to me, ‘This do,
And thou shalt live;’ but when more close I drew,
I saw with hidden fire the mountain shake;
Upon the air I heard the trumpet break
Long, loud and louder yet; what hope had I
When even Moses said, ‘I fear and quake—
Let not God speak unto me, lest I die!’
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“To Tabor then I came.
How fair, methought, how pleasant is this place,
How green and still! Then, Jesus, on Thy face
I look'd, and it was comely; full of grace
And truth Thy lips as one whom God hath blest.
Here then, methought, for ever I will rest,
Here will I build my shrine, and pay my vows;
But while in sweet content
To pluck fresh boughs I went,
Peter and James and John,
Yea, Jesus too, had gone,
And I was left amid the wither'd boughs.
How fair, methought, how pleasant is this place,
How green and still! Then, Jesus, on Thy face
I look'd, and it was comely; full of grace
And truth Thy lips as one whom God hath blest.
Here then, methought, for ever I will rest,
Here will I build my shrine, and pay my vows;
But while in sweet content
To pluck fresh boughs I went,
Peter and James and John,
Yea, Jesus too, had gone,
And I was left amid the wither'd boughs.
“At length another place
I reach'd at noon; the trodden ground was bare;
Of a great multitude I saw the trace,
But all was silent now; no marvel there
My eyes beheld, no law
I heard, no vision saw,
Save Jesus only, Him, the Crucified.
I saw my Lord that look'd on me and died.
I reach'd at noon; the trodden ground was bare;
Of a great multitude I saw the trace,
But all was silent now; no marvel there
My eyes beheld, no law
I heard, no vision saw,
Save Jesus only, Him, the Crucified.
I saw my Lord that look'd on me and died.
“Here will I see the day
Pass by, the shadows creep
Around me; here I pray,
And here I sing and weep;
Here only will I sleep
And wake again; I keep
My watch beneath this tree
The Lord hath show'd to me.”
Pass by, the shadows creep
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And here I sing and weep;
Here only will I sleep
And wake again; I keep
My watch beneath this tree
The Lord hath show'd to me.”
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A SONG OF JOY AND PAIN.
“I, the Lord, have brought down the high tree, have exalted
the low tree, have dried up the green tree, and have made the
dry tree to flourish.”
—Ezekiel xvii. 24.
Thou sign of all our loss,
Thou sign of all our gain,
O strange, sweet, solemn cross,
I hail thee! and again
I hail thee! here through pain
Joy breaks, Love conquereth,
And here through bitter death
The Lord of life doth reign.
Thou sign of all our gain,
O strange, sweet, solemn cross,
I hail thee! and again
I hail thee! here through pain
Joy breaks, Love conquereth,
And here through bitter death
The Lord of life doth reign.
Speak not unto me, Life!
Thy voice that loves and grieves
I hear; the gentle strife
Of birds among the leaves,
Fond tones that in their flow
Make sudden pause and grow
To sweeter silence; sound of summer rain,
And children's voices down the homeward lane
That pass; prayer's constant low
Sweet pleading voice I hear;
The blow, the scoff, the jeer,
The curse, the maddening whip, the clanking chain,
The bitter laugh far sadder than the tear,
All these alike are thine! I know
Not what thy language means, confused and vain;
Now let death talk with me, its speech is plain.
Thy voice that loves and grieves
I hear; the gentle strife
Of birds among the leaves,
Fond tones that in their flow
Make sudden pause and grow
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And children's voices down the homeward lane
That pass; prayer's constant low
Sweet pleading voice I hear;
The blow, the scoff, the jeer,
The curse, the maddening whip, the clanking chain,
The bitter laugh far sadder than the tear,
All these alike are thine! I know
Not what thy language means, confused and vain;
Now let death talk with me, its speech is plain.
Now let death speak with me, Thy death, my God,
Thy words upon the cross were plain and few;
It is my brother's blood that from the sod
Cries out of better things than Abel's knew.
Through dark decay it pleads, through sullen care;
It wins a triumph over earth's despair;
It turns to truth Life's failing prophecy,
It tells us that the Lord of Heaven was brave
And strong, and resolute in love to save
The world that He had made, yet could but die!
Thy words upon the cross were plain and few;
It is my brother's blood that from the sod
Cries out of better things than Abel's knew.
Through dark decay it pleads, through sullen care;
It wins a triumph over earth's despair;
It turns to truth Life's failing prophecy,
It tells us that the Lord of Heaven was brave
And strong, and resolute in love to save
The world that He had made, yet could but die!
Then let me also go
And die with Him! why strive I for this crown
Of fading leaves desired of all below,
Love, pleasure, sweet content and fair renown;
Why weep for flowers that fell too soon to spread
And drink the glory of the summer noon,
Sweet buds of promise quickly witherèd,
That died, unkiss'd of June?
Behold, my God doth choose
The thorn, the rose refuse;
Lord is He of delight
And gladness infinite,
Yet hath he pluck'd no flower from all that bloom,
But in our earth's fair garden made His tomb.
And die with Him! why strive I for this crown
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Love, pleasure, sweet content and fair renown;
Why weep for flowers that fell too soon to spread
And drink the glory of the summer noon,
Sweet buds of promise quickly witherèd,
That died, unkiss'd of June?
Behold, my God doth choose
The thorn, the rose refuse;
Lord is He of delight
And gladness infinite,
Yet hath he pluck'd no flower from all that bloom,
But in our earth's fair garden made His tomb.
Hail, blessed Cross! how bold
Thou makest me! how strong! no more I weep
O'er giant cities now the dragon's fold,
O'er mighty empires breathed to dust away;
No more a tearful chronicle I keep
Of all that passes ere our mortal day
Hath pass'd; nor grieve that in earth's fruitful deep
Warm soil, my life hath struck but slender hold;
All things must change, and into ruin, cold,
And darkness pass and perish, yet behold!
All fades not with the fading leaf! To me
The Lord hath shewed a tree!
Thou makest me! how strong! no more I weep
O'er giant cities now the dragon's fold,
O'er mighty empires breathed to dust away;
No more a tearful chronicle I keep
Of all that passes ere our mortal day
Hath pass'd; nor grieve that in earth's fruitful deep
Warm soil, my life hath struck but slender hold;
All things must change, and into ruin, cold,
And darkness pass and perish, yet behold!
All fades not with the fading leaf! To me
The Lord hath shewed a tree!
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And many a leaf on me
Hath fall'n from off this tree
Of healing power! I know
Not yet how near the skies
Its lofty stem will rise;
Nor guess how deep below
To what drear vaults of woe
Its roots will pierce; I see
Its boughs spread wide and free,
And fowls of every wing
Beneath them build and cling.
Hail, blessed Cross! I see
My life grow green in thee!
My life that hidden, mute
Lives ever in thy root,
When life fails utterly;
All hail, thou blessed Tree!
Hath fall'n from off this tree
Of healing power! I know
Not yet how near the skies
Its lofty stem will rise;
Nor guess how deep below
To what drear vaults of woe
Its roots will pierce; I see
Its boughs spread wide and free,
And fowls of every wing
Beneath them build and cling.
Hail, blessed Cross! I see
My life grow green in thee!
My life that hidden, mute
Lives ever in thy root,
When life fails utterly;
All hail, thou blessed Tree!
Quod stultum est Dei, sapientius est hominibus:
Et quod infirmum est Dei, fortius est hominibus.
Et quod infirmum est Dei, fortius est hominibus.
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SUMMA THEOLOGIÆ.
“In the cross of Christ excess in man is met by excess in
God; excess of evil is mastered by excess of love.”
Bourdaloue.
Now let me turn aside,
And look on this great Sign, uplifted high,
Where a broad river runs down silently
Until it reach the white and misty shore,
Margin to unknown worlds, where evermore
The deep sea moans and is not satisfied,
And life meets death in marshes wild and wide.
And look on this great Sign, uplifted high,
Where a broad river runs down silently
Until it reach the white and misty shore,
Margin to unknown worlds, where evermore
The deep sea moans and is not satisfied,
And life meets death in marshes wild and wide.
Above the meads in May,
Above the summer gardens of delight,
Above the gloomy forests where by night
The fierce beasts roam, and ask of God their prey;
Above the crowded city wild with sin,
Above the pleasant home by love shut in,
O'er all that blessed, blesses—all that curst
—Accurses! mute above our best and worst,
I see it rise, a strange, appealing sign.
Above the summer gardens of delight,
Above the gloomy forests where by night
The fierce beasts roam, and ask of God their prey;
Above the crowded city wild with sin,
Above the pleasant home by love shut in,
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—Accurses! mute above our best and worst,
I see it rise, a strange, appealing sign.
Its shadow falls upon a region old
And wasted by the spoiler; thick with graves,
And pierced with sunless caverns, where, for gold,
Slaves toil unceasing, bound by stronger slaves.
A land of mighty hunters; he who flies
The arrow, lights upon the deadly snare,—
The lash and lure are theirs, behind them lies
A desert that was once a garden fair,
And after them a fire breaks forth that feeds
On the broad cedars, on the quivering reeds,
Fann'd by swift winds that sway its flickering spire;
Yet would man snatch and win life's goodly prize,
Yet would he venture, conquer, and aspire,—
Now will I look upon my God that dies.
And wasted by the spoiler; thick with graves,
And pierced with sunless caverns, where, for gold,
Slaves toil unceasing, bound by stronger slaves.
A land of mighty hunters; he who flies
The arrow, lights upon the deadly snare,—
The lash and lure are theirs, behind them lies
A desert that was once a garden fair,
And after them a fire breaks forth that feeds
On the broad cedars, on the quivering reeds,
Fann'd by swift winds that sway its flickering spire;
Yet would man snatch and win life's goodly prize,
Yet would he venture, conquer, and aspire,—
Now will I look upon my God that dies.
Enough of man's excess!
His waste and wassail trampling out his wine,
With hasty heel, from youth, joy, tenderness,
Now will I turn, my God, and look on thine
Profuse wert Thou Thy prodigal to bless,
Nor hast Thou spared from out the purple vine
A rich, full-mingled cup, to strain, and press,
And meet his loss with usury divine.
His waste and wassail trampling out his wine,
With hasty heel, from youth, joy, tenderness,
Now will I turn, my God, and look on thine
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Nor hast Thou spared from out the purple vine
A rich, full-mingled cup, to strain, and press,
And meet his loss with usury divine.
Now let me turn my gaze
On Love's best archer, sorely bitten, thrown
Aside by all his comrades, through amaze
And anguish of his wound, to die alone;
Yet he, sore-smitten archer, may not die!
Forsaken, shunned, abhorred and desolate,
Yet shall his arrows win back victory,
His bow arrest a doubtful combat's fate,
And he shall conquer surely, conquering late.
On Love's best archer, sorely bitten, thrown
Aside by all his comrades, through amaze
And anguish of his wound, to die alone;
Yet he, sore-smitten archer, may not die!
Forsaken, shunned, abhorred and desolate,
Yet shall his arrows win back victory,
His bow arrest a doubtful combat's fate,
And he shall conquer surely, conquering late.
He saith to us, “Awhile,
A little while and ye shall see me.” Lo!
On this our earth quick bitter harvests grow;
So must Love's patience slowly reconcile,
Pain, pleasure, death, together banded, mow,
And reap, nor care to gather in their sheaves,—
It is my God alone who waits and grieves;
Slow is his agony, his guerdon slow.
A little while and ye shall see me.” Lo!
On this our earth quick bitter harvests grow;
So must Love's patience slowly reconcile,
Pain, pleasure, death, together banded, mow,
And reap, nor care to gather in their sheaves,—
It is my God alone who waits and grieves;
Slow is his agony, his guerdon slow.
69
Yet for no other sign
I ask; I read within no other book,
When I within my God's deep heart would look
I turn not to his earth nor heavens that shine
And burn from age to age, yet speak no word:
Let my God speak to me! for I have heard
Strange voices on the earth, strange marvels seen;
While the blue, silent heavens look'd on serene,
And the white moon-beam brought its message clear,
Man's goodly frame was in the market sold
By men, and woman's smile made cheap for gold,
—Yet Thou, oh God! didst buy the soul more dear!
I ask; I read within no other book,
When I within my God's deep heart would look
I turn not to his earth nor heavens that shine
And burn from age to age, yet speak no word:
Let my God speak to me! for I have heard
Strange voices on the earth, strange marvels seen;
While the blue, silent heavens look'd on serene,
And the white moon-beam brought its message clear,
Man's goodly frame was in the market sold
By men, and woman's smile made cheap for gold,
—Yet Thou, oh God! didst buy the soul more dear!
So let the earth be old,
And, like a wicked Fate, from off her reel
Spin evil changes,—let the skies in cold
Clear splendour arch us in a vault of steel;
The heavens are far away, yet God is near;
I find a need divine
That meeteth need of mine;
No rigid fate I meet, no law austere;
I see my God who turns,
And o'er his creature yearns,—
Upon the cross God gives, and claims the tear.
And, like a wicked Fate, from off her reel
Spin evil changes,—let the skies in cold
Clear splendour arch us in a vault of steel;
The heavens are far away, yet God is near;
I find a need divine
That meeteth need of mine;
No rigid fate I meet, no law austere;
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And o'er his creature yearns,—
Upon the cross God gives, and claims the tear.
And from this soul His love,
The slighted human soul that men despise,
Shall yet work out a wondrous work, above
All wonders of His earth and seas and skies;
Love, love that once for all did agonize,
Shall conquer all things to itself! if late
Or soon this fall, I ask not nor surmise,—
And when my God is waiting I can wait!
The slighted human soul that men despise,
Shall yet work out a wondrous work, above
All wonders of His earth and seas and skies;
Love, love that once for all did agonize,
Shall conquer all things to itself! if late
Or soon this fall, I ask not nor surmise,—
And when my God is waiting I can wait!
Christus crucifixus,
Dei potentia ac Dei sapientia!
Dei potentia ac Dei sapientia!
71
SPONSALIA AMORIS ET DOLORIS.
“Behold these lovers, that with looks elate
Upon each other gaze! who may they be
But Francis with his vow'd, his chosen mate,
His dearest Poverty!”
Upon each other gaze! who may they be
But Francis with his vow'd, his chosen mate,
His dearest Poverty!”
So Dante spake; “her kind
First husband dead, she lived withdrawn from sight,
Nor ever thought a second spouse to find,
A second troth to plight.”
First husband dead, she lived withdrawn from sight,
Nor ever thought a second spouse to find,
A second troth to plight.”
“With bare and wounded feet
She trod the cruel thorns unwooed till now,
For none but holy Francis guess'd how sweet
The rose-bloom on her brow.”
She trod the cruel thorns unwooed till now,
For none but holy Francis guess'd how sweet
The rose-bloom on her brow.”
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And now a lowly pair
They dwell content, possessing and possest,
And day by day grows Poverty more fair,
Grows Francis still more blest.
They dwell content, possessing and possest,
And day by day grows Poverty more fair,
Grows Francis still more blest.
Yet to a sterner troth
Than Francis pledged, I bind you, spirits high!
Fear not to plight with mine your spousal oath,—
The bride is ever nigh.
Than Francis pledged, I bind you, spirits high!
Fear not to plight with mine your spousal oath,—
The bride is ever nigh.
But who her hand will fold
In his? her form unto his bosom strain?
What heart so tender found, what heart so bold
To be the mate of Pain?
In his? her form unto his bosom strain?
What heart so tender found, what heart so bold
To be the mate of Pain?
What eyes can brook the gaze
Of her wild eyes? what ears can bear the moan
She maketh through dark nights and silent days,
That she hath dwelt alone?
Of her wild eyes? what ears can bear the moan
She maketh through dark nights and silent days,
That she hath dwelt alone?
Yet fear not thou to take
This woman for thy bride, oh soul elect!
Fear not thy choice, thy pride, thy joy to make
Of her whom all reject!
This woman for thy bride, oh soul elect!
Fear not thy choice, thy pride, thy joy to make
Of her whom all reject!
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Oh! fear not thou to grasp
Her shrinking form, nor spare for fond caress,
Only within Love's strictest, closest clasp
Can Anguish learn to bless.
Her shrinking form, nor spare for fond caress,
Only within Love's strictest, closest clasp
Can Anguish learn to bless.
And quail not though she change
Within thine arms to some foul fearful shape,
Still hold her through each aspect wild and strange,
And let her not escape!
Within thine arms to some foul fearful shape,
Still hold her through each aspect wild and strange,
And let her not escape!
So shall she turn and meet
Thy gaze with ardours, transports all her own,
And give, for thine, look, smile and word more sweet
Than joy hath ever known.
Thy gaze with ardours, transports all her own,
And give, for thine, look, smile and word more sweet
Than joy hath ever known.
So shall the willing air
Be wooed with softest marriage peal,—the knell
Toll'd for the passing of a long despair,—
Yea, down to deepest hell
Be wooed with softest marriage peal,—the knell
Toll'd for the passing of a long despair,—
Yea, down to deepest hell
Its sound will pass, and say,
“Rejoice thou under-world! a warfare long,
Confused, hath roll'd to victory away,—
The strong hath met the strong;
“Rejoice thou under-world! a warfare long,
Confused, hath roll'd to victory away,—
The strong hath met the strong;
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“Love weds with Pain,—let Sin
And Death abide, and deem their empire sure,
What now can be too hard for Love to win,
For Anguish to endure?”
And Death abide, and deem their empire sure,
What now can be too hard for Love to win,
For Anguish to endure?”
Christ.
“She, bereaved
Of her first husband, slighted and obscure,
Thousand and hundred years and more remained
Without a single suitor, till he came.”
Of her first husband, slighted and obscure,
Thousand and hundred years and more remained
Without a single suitor, till he came.”
Paradiso. Canto xi.
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THE MARRIAGE SUPPER OF THE LAMB.
“The Master sayeth, Where is the guest-chamber, that I
may eat the Passover with my disciples?”
Now Wisdom lifts on high
Her voice,—abroad a summons clear she sends
“Come hither, friends, and eat abundantly,
Yea, drink, beloved friends!”
Her voice,—abroad a summons clear she sends
“Come hither, friends, and eat abundantly,
Yea, drink, beloved friends!”
My festal board is fair,
My banquet-chamber ready, on its chief
Long waiting, little need the heart prepare
To keep the feast of grief;
My banquet-chamber ready, on its chief
Long waiting, little need the heart prepare
To keep the feast of grief;
My wine is mingled strong
With myrrh! full mingled is it, spiced, and sweet;
This Passover with bitter herbs how long
Have I desired to eat.
With myrrh! full mingled is it, spiced, and sweet;
This Passover with bitter herbs how long
Have I desired to eat.
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Come, eat my bread,—nor shrink
My soul's deep, secret baptism to share;
Be strong, beloved friends, the cup to drink,
The Master's hand doth bear.
My soul's deep, secret baptism to share;
Be strong, beloved friends, the cup to drink,
The Master's hand doth bear.
Be patient! from the north
The wind blows keen, the garden little yields
Of pleasant fruits, yet hath our Lord gone forth
To walk among the fields.
The wind blows keen, the garden little yields
Of pleasant fruits, yet hath our Lord gone forth
To walk among the fields.
His steps have left the flowers,
He feeds no more among the lilies sweet,
A husbandman he toils through long cold hours,
With wounded hands and feet.
He feeds no more among the lilies sweet,
A husbandman he toils through long cold hours,
With wounded hands and feet.
Come, reap with Him, for white
These fields and ready, thrust the sickle in;
The harvest stands but thicker for its blight
Of death, woe, want, and sin.
These fields and ready, thrust the sickle in;
The harvest stands but thicker for its blight
Of death, woe, want, and sin.
Come, glean the blasted ear
With Him, nor be the wither'd grass forgot
That waves upon the house-tops thin and sere,
By mower gather'd not.
With Him, nor be the wither'd grass forgot
That waves upon the house-tops thin and sere,
By mower gather'd not.
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To many a marish place,
Choked with the living wreck that on earth's fair,
Cold bosom drifts awhile and leaves no trace,
I bid your steps repair.
Choked with the living wreck that on earth's fair,
Cold bosom drifts awhile and leaves no trace,
I bid your steps repair.
Unto the darken'd mine
I call you now, unto the burning plain,
To cells where fetter'd spirits moan and pine,
Where madness shakes its chain.
I call you now, unto the burning plain,
To cells where fetter'd spirits moan and pine,
Where madness shakes its chain.
I bid you to the drear,
Dark house, unloved of all, where want and age,
Sit day by day,—and turn without a tear
Life's saddest, weariest page.
Dark house, unloved of all, where want and age,
Sit day by day,—and turn without a tear
Life's saddest, weariest page.
In homes unblest where care,
Grown fierce and reckless, turns at last and rends
The hearts she broods on; I would meet you there,
Oh, friends, beloved friends!
Grown fierce and reckless, turns at last and rends
The hearts she broods on; I would meet you there,
Oh, friends, beloved friends!
I tryst with you! I bid
Two long predestined lovers held apart,
By seas, storms, graves,—by flaming swords,—unchid,
Now seek each other's heart.
Two long predestined lovers held apart,
By seas, storms, graves,—by flaming swords,—unchid,
Now seek each other's heart.
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Grief waits for love,—she turns
To that kind voice, nor will the strangers hear;
Upon her worn and wasted cheek she yearns
To feel love's burning tear.
To that kind voice, nor will the strangers hear;
Upon her worn and wasted cheek she yearns
To feel love's burning tear.
Love seeks out grief,—he knows
No lips save his in fondest ministering,
From out her rankling wound, ere yet it close,
Can draw the deadly sting.
No lips save his in fondest ministering,
From out her rankling wound, ere yet it close,
Can draw the deadly sting.
He fain unto his breast
Would draw her aching brow; uncomforted
He knoweth she hath dwelt in long unrest,—
She may not die unwed.
Would draw her aching brow; uncomforted
He knoweth she hath dwelt in long unrest,—
She may not die unwed.
Hear, Earth and Heaven, their vow!
Whom God hath join'd in one let none divide;
Rejoice, O Heaven! be joyful, Earth, for now
The bridegroom meets the bride!
Whom God hath join'd in one let none divide;
Rejoice, O Heaven! be joyful, Earth, for now
The bridegroom meets the bride!
79
SCHOLA CRUCIS, SCHOLA LUCIS.
Beneath Thy cross I stand,
Jesus, my Saviour, turn and look on me,
Oh! who are these, that one on either hand
Are crucified with Thee?
Jesus, my Saviour, turn and look on me,
Oh! who are these, that one on either hand
Are crucified with Thee?
The one that turns away
With sullen, scoffing lip,—and one whose eyes
Close o'er the words,—“Yet shalt thou be this day
With me in Paradise.”
With sullen, scoffing lip,—and one whose eyes
Close o'er the words,—“Yet shalt thou be this day
With me in Paradise.”
Here would I fain behold
This twofold mystery! Love's battle won;
Its warfare ended, and its ransom told,
Its conquest but begun!
This twofold mystery! Love's battle won;
Its warfare ended, and its ransom told,
Its conquest but begun!
I say not to thee now,
“Come from the cross, and then will I believe;”
Oh, lift me up to Thee, and teach me how
To love and how to grieve.
“Come from the cross, and then will I believe;”
Oh, lift me up to Thee, and teach me how
To love and how to grieve.
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Stay on the cross, until
Thou art of all confess'd, of all adored;
Be there each ling'ring heart, each wav'ring will,
Made fast unto its Lord.
Thou art of all confess'd, of all adored;
Be there each ling'ring heart, each wav'ring will,
Made fast unto its Lord.
I track'd thy footsteps long,
For where Thou wert, there would Thy servant be;
But now methought the silence, now the throng,
Would part me still from thee.
For where Thou wert, there would Thy servant be;
But now methought the silence, now the throng,
Would part me still from thee.
I sought Thee 'mid the leaves,
I find Thee on the dry and blasted tree;
I saw thee not, until I saw the thieves
There crucified with Thee!
I find Thee on the dry and blasted tree;
I saw thee not, until I saw the thieves
There crucified with Thee!
81
SI DESCENDERO IN INFERNUM, ADES.
“Who cometh first, marching before the Divine hosts?
Gabriel, accustomed to bring good tidings of great joy to men.
He says, ‘Lift up yourselves, ye gates; be broken, chains;
open, everlasting doors, make a highway for the Lord;’ then
a shudder passes through Hell, its deep foundations are
shaken, prison after prison is broken up, the conquering host
penetrates into deeper gulfs. Adam himself, who, as being
the first to die, is deepest sunk in death, hears the steps of the
Lord visiting the captives, and turning to those who are
chained with him, he says, ‘I hear the step of some one who
draws near to us; if He deigns to descend here we are delivered,
if we do but see Him we are saved!’ As Adam
speaks thus, the Saviour enters bearing His cross. So soon as
Adam our father sees him, he smites upon his breast, and says,
‘God our Saviour bringing with Him all His angels.’ Jesus
answered, ‘And bringing with him thy soul.’”
—From a Homily by Epiphanius.
What place is this forlorn,
A palace, or a prison, or a tomb?
What waste, wide world is this, what realm outworn,
Compact of fire and gloom?
A palace, or a prison, or a tomb?
What waste, wide world is this, what realm outworn,
Compact of fire and gloom?
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What aspects vast and drear
Are these that rise around, with eyes for hate
Too blank, that through the darkness search and peer,
Fix'd in impassive Fate?
Are these that rise around, with eyes for hate
Too blank, that through the darkness search and peer,
Fix'd in impassive Fate?
What sea is this? what shore?
What sullen, tidal moan that still recedes?
What waves are these that cast up evermore
Weeds, foul and clinging weeds?
What sullen, tidal moan that still recedes?
What waves are these that cast up evermore
Weeds, foul and clinging weeds?
Weeds, weeds around my hands,
Weeds, weeds around my heart, that choke and press,
And drag my spirits downwards unto lands
Of dire forgetfulness.
Weeds, weeds around my heart, that choke and press,
And drag my spirits downwards unto lands
Of dire forgetfulness.
Weeds, weeds about my head
Are wrapp'd, I said, “The darkness covers me;”
But even while I spake among the dead,
I knew my soul was free.
Are wrapp'd, I said, “The darkness covers me;”
But even while I spake among the dead,
I knew my soul was free.
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One cometh on the wings
Of morn, to Him the darkness is as light,
He seeks my soul, he saves it from the kings
Of Hades and of Night.
Of morn, to Him the darkness is as light,
He seeks my soul, he saves it from the kings
Of Hades and of Night.
He cometh, o'er my woes
A victor, purple in His garment's stain,
Red with the life-blood of his conquer'd foes
And mine—death, sin, and pain.
A victor, purple in His garment's stain,
Red with the life-blood of his conquer'd foes
And mine—death, sin, and pain.
As one that on the vine
Treads in the bursting wine-vat, He hath trod
The press alone, and trampled out a wine
Ripe for the wrath of God.
Treads in the bursting wine-vat, He hath trod
The press alone, and trampled out a wine
Ripe for the wrath of God.
He binds within His crown
The thorn that rankled with so sharp a pang,
Beneath His kingly heel He treadeth down
The adder's piercing fang.
The thorn that rankled with so sharp a pang,
Beneath His kingly heel He treadeth down
The adder's piercing fang.
Before His breath the bands
That held me fall and shrivel up in flame.
He bears my name upon His wounded hands,
Upon His heart my name.
That held me fall and shrivel up in flame.
He bears my name upon His wounded hands,
Upon His heart my name.
84
I wait, my soul doth wait
For Him who on His shoulder bears the key;
I sit fast bound, and yet not desolate,
My mighty Lord is free.
For Him who on His shoulder bears the key;
I sit fast bound, and yet not desolate,
My mighty Lord is free.
Be thou up-lifted, Door
Of everlasting strength! the Lord on high
Hath gone, and captive led for evermore
My long captivity.
Of everlasting strength! the Lord on high
Hath gone, and captive led for evermore
My long captivity.
What though these rocks be steep,
The valley dusk, with crowding shadows dim,
Ere Tophet was of old made large and deep,
I was beloved of Him!
The valley dusk, with crowding shadows dim,
Ere Tophet was of old made large and deep,
I was beloved of Him!
85
“QUID DIXIT, MARIA?”
What said He, Mary, unto thee?
For it was thine His voice to hear,
When thou wert waiting in the gloom
Of twilight dawn, and by the tomb,
He talk'd with thee when none were near;
Oh, happy thus thy Lord to see!
What said He, Mary, unto thee?”
For it was thine His voice to hear,
When thou wert waiting in the gloom
Of twilight dawn, and by the tomb,
He talk'd with thee when none were near;
Oh, happy thus thy Lord to see!
What said He, Mary, unto thee?”
“Few words He said to me, I hide
Each word He said within my heart;
Fain had I won Him to abide,
Yet soon I knew that I must part
With Him, my Master, Lord, and Guide.
I met His eye, His voice I heard,
I saw His wounded hands and feet,
He call'd me by my name, no word
Was ever to my soul so sweet;
And by His tomb He bade me stay
Until the breaking of the day!”
Each word He said within my heart;
Fain had I won Him to abide,
Yet soon I knew that I must part
With Him, my Master, Lord, and Guide.
I met His eye, His voice I heard,
I saw His wounded hands and feet,
He call'd me by my name, no word
Was ever to my soul so sweet;
And by His tomb He bade me stay
Until the breaking of the day!”
“But see, the hills are all a-glow,
The sunrise cleaves its path of gold
Through many a darken'd valley low,
And fires the mountain summits cold.
What flowers unclose! what herbs of price!
What costly gums for sacrifice
Are dropping now!” “The hills are high,
I cannot reach them, lest I die;
And by His cross He bid me dwell
Until the evening shadows fell.”
The sunrise cleaves its path of gold
86
And fires the mountain summits cold.
What flowers unclose! what herbs of price!
What costly gums for sacrifice
Are dropping now!” “The hills are high,
I cannot reach them, lest I die;
And by His cross He bid me dwell
Until the evening shadows fell.”
“Yet rise, thy Lord hath risen! Behold,
From Hades now He bears away
The gates, and snatches from the hold
Of death and sin a mighty prey;
His soul hath pass'd afar! to Him
The darkness shines as doth the day!
Why linger 'mid the shadows dim?
Why watch the place where Jesus lay?”
From Hades now He bears away
The gates, and snatches from the hold
Of death and sin a mighty prey;
His soul hath pass'd afar! to Him
The darkness shines as doth the day!
Why linger 'mid the shadows dim?
Why watch the place where Jesus lay?”
“Beside His tomb, beside His cross
He bade me rest! Ye speak in vain
Who have not known my gain nor loss;
The Master's words are kind and plain,
He calls the wounded not to pain,
The weary unto conflict sore;
He bids the wayworn not again
Retrace their fruitless wanderings o'er;
He led me to this place! He knew
My soul upon the burning plain
Where riseth from the earth no dew,
Where falleth from the heavens no rain;
He track'd my steps 'mid forests old
And tangled, where the flowers awake
In torrid midnight gloom, and hold
Death's revel in the jungle brake;
Yea! he hath known my soul in cold,
The deadly frost that none can bide,
The formless vapours, white and dim,
Became my shroud, and yet from Him
Conceal'd me not! whate'er betide
I clasp the cross! the earth is wide,
And drear, and old! the heavens are far!
For guide to me He gave no star,
But near His cross He bid me stay
Until the shadows fled away!
He bade me rest! Ye speak in vain
Who have not known my gain nor loss;
The Master's words are kind and plain,
He calls the wounded not to pain,
The weary unto conflict sore;
He bids the wayworn not again
87
He led me to this place! He knew
My soul upon the burning plain
Where riseth from the earth no dew,
Where falleth from the heavens no rain;
He track'd my steps 'mid forests old
And tangled, where the flowers awake
In torrid midnight gloom, and hold
Death's revel in the jungle brake;
Yea! he hath known my soul in cold,
The deadly frost that none can bide,
The formless vapours, white and dim,
Became my shroud, and yet from Him
Conceal'd me not! whate'er betide
I clasp the cross! the earth is wide,
And drear, and old! the heavens are far!
For guide to me He gave no star,
But near His cross He bid me stay
Until the shadows fled away!
“To me He said not, ‘Thou shalt rise
With Me, thy risen Lord this day,
And be with Me in Paradise,’
Beside the cross He bade me stay;
He met me in the garden's gloom,
But to that garden, sweet and dim,
Or through its angel-guarded gate,
He sent me not! I wait for Him
Beside His cross, beside His tomb;
I wait for Him, my soul doth wait,
And by the cross I will abide,
And keep the word my Lord hath given.
Except the cross and Him who died
Upon it, now in earth or Heaven
What own I, claim I? now below
I seek no further, here is woe
Assuaged for ever; now above
I look no longer; here is love!
With Me, thy risen Lord this day,
And be with Me in Paradise,’
Beside the cross He bade me stay;
He met me in the garden's gloom,
88
Or through its angel-guarded gate,
He sent me not! I wait for Him
Beside His cross, beside His tomb;
I wait for Him, my soul doth wait,
And by the cross I will abide,
And keep the word my Lord hath given.
Except the cross and Him who died
Upon it, now in earth or Heaven
What own I, claim I? now below
I seek no further, here is woe
Assuaged for ever; now above
I look no longer; here is love!
| Carmina crucis | |