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Ah, qui tam propero cecidit sic funere, vitae Hoc habuit tantum, possit ut ille mori.
At cujus Deus est sic usus funere, mortis Hoc tantum, ut possit vivere semper, habet.
_The infant-martyrs._
Fallen, alas, in life's most tender dawn, With only so much life as die they may.
But they 'gainst whom Death's arrows thus are drawn, Only taste death that they may live for aye. G.
CLIII.
_Attulerunt ei omnes male affectos daemoniacos, lunaticos: et sanavit eos._ Matt. iv. 24.
Collige te tibi, torve Draco, furiasque facesque, Quasque vocant pestes nox Erebusque suas: Fac colubros jam tota suos tua vibret Erinnys; Collige, collige te fort.i.ter, ut pereas.
_They brought unto Him all sick people that were taken with divers diseases and torments, and those which were possessed with devils, and those which were lunatick, and those that had the palsy; and He healed them._
Gather thy powers, grim Dragon, furies, flames, All plagues which Erebus or midnight claims, Bid each Erinnys high her serpents flourish; Bring all, bring all, that thou mayst wholly perish.[81] R. WI.
CLIV.
_Tuam ipsius animam pertransibit gladius._ Luc. ii. 35.
Quando habeat gladium tua, Christe, tragoedia nullum, Quis fuerit gladius, Virgo beata, tuus?
Namque nec ulla alias tibi sunt data vulnera, Virgo, Quam quae a vulneribus sunt data, Christe, tuis.
Forsan quando senex jam caligantior esset, Quod Simeon gladium credidit, hasta fuit.
Immo neque hasta fuit, neque clavus, sed neque spina: Hei mihi, spina tamen, clavus et hasta fuit.
Nam queiscunque malis tua, Christe, tragoedia crevit, Omnia sunt gladius, Virgo beata, tuus.
_A sword shall pierce through thy own soul._
Since in the tragedy Wrought upon Calvary, No sword, O Christ, hast Thou, Whence, then, shall come the blow To Mary, virgin-mother?
Not any wounds are given, Save as her Son is riven: No sword, O Christ, hast Thou; Whence, then, shall come the blow To Mary, virgin-mother?
Perchance the dim-ey'd seer By sword intended spear: No sword, O Christ, hast Thou; Whence, then, shall come the blow To Mary, virgin-mother?
Not spear or nail or thorn, Yet by all these I'm torn: No sword, O Christ, hast Thou; O whence, then, comes the blow To Mary, virgin-mother?
In the dread tragedy Wrought upon Calvary, Whate'er, O suff'ring Lord, Smote Thee, pierc'd as a sword Mary, the virgin-mother. G.
CLV.
_In sanguinem circ.u.mcisionis dominicae. Ad convivas, quos haec dies apud nos solennes habet._
Heus, conviva! bibin'? Maria haec, Mariaeque puellus, Mittunt de prelo musta bibenda suo.
Una quidem est, toti quae par tamen unica mundo, Unica gutta, suo quae tremit orbiculo.
O bibite hinc; quale aut quantum vos cunque bibistis, Credite mi, nil tam suave bibistis adhuc.
O bibite et bibite, et restat tamen usque bibendum: Restat, quod poterit nulla domare sitis.
Scilicet hic, mensura sitis, mensura bibendi est: Haec quantum cupias vina bibisse, bibis.
_On the blood of the Lord's circ.u.mcision._
Ah, friend, wilt drink? Mary and her Babe divine Send from their press, for drinking, this new wine.
One drop, yet this round world in worth resembling, A single drop in tiny circlet trembling.
Drink hence; whate'er ye've drunk, how much soever, Trust me, such pleasant drink ye've met with never.
Drink, drink again; to drink is left for you-- Is left what mortal thirst can ne'er subdue.
Thirst's limit here will drinking's bound define: You drink all that you would drink of this wine. R. WI.
CLVI.
_Puer Jesus inter doctores._ Luc. ii. 46.
Fallitur, ad mentum qui pendit quemque profundum, Ceu possint laeves nil sapuisse genae.
Scilicet e barba male mensuratur Apollo; Et bene c.u.m capitis stat nive, mentis hyems.
Discat, et a tenero disci quoque posse magistro, Canitiem capitis nec putet esse caput.
_The Child Jesus among the doctors._
To weigh a man by bearded chin is vain, As if smooth cheeks no wisdom could contain.
Forsooth the beard is a poor gauge of wit; With mental winter snowy head may fit.
Hear what wise words from a Child-teacher fall, Nor think a h.o.a.ry head the head of all. R. WI.
CLVII.
_Ad Christum, de aqua in vinum versa._ Joan. ii. 1-11.
Signa tuis tuus hostis habet contraria signis: In vinum tristes tu mihi vertis aquas.
Ille autem e vino lacrymas et jurgia ducens, Vina iterum in tristes, hei mihi! mutat aquas.
_To our Lord, upon the water made wine._
Thou water turn'st to wine, faire friend of life; Thy foe, to crosse the sweet arts of Thy reigne, Distills from thence the teares of wrath and strife, And so turnes wine to water backe againe. CR.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Blessing's in Thy every sign, But the Tempter each pollutes: Thou the water makest wine, He the wine to woe trans.m.u.tes. G.
CLVIII.
_Christus infans Patri sist.i.tur in templo._ Luc. ii. 22-33.
Agnus eat ludatque, licet, sub patre petulco; c.u.mque sua longum conjuge turtur agat.
Conciliatorem nihil hic opus ire per agnum, Nec tener ut volucris non sua fata ferat.
