Part 15

Could not once blinding me, cruell, suffice? When first I look't on thee, I lost mine eyes.

SECULAR EPIGRAMS.

I.

_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?

II.

_Vpon the Faire Ethiopian, sent to a gentlewoman._

Lo here the faire Chariclea, in whom strove So 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 than Shee shall appeare true Ethiopian.

III.

_On marriage._

I would be married, but I'de have no wife: I would be married to a single life.

IV.

_On Nanus mounted upon an ant._

High-mounted on an ant, Nanus the tall Was throwne, alas, and got a deadly fall; Vnder th' unruly beast's proud feet he lies All torne: with much adoe yet ere he dyes Hee straines these words: Base Envy, doe laugh on: Thus did I fall, and thus fell Phaethon.

V.

_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?

VI.

_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?

VII.

_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.

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' of II. 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 Tanner MS., as before. G.

Latin Poems.

PART FIRST. SACRED.

II.

EPIGRAMMATA SACRA.

NEVER BEFORE PRINTED.

NOTE.

It is my great privilege to be the first to print the following extensive additions to the _Epigrammata Sacra_ of Crashaw. They are wholly derived from Archbishop Sancroft's MS. 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.

I.

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.

_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.

II.

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 alvus Proficere, 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 witnessed by palate and by tooth!-- They know the smack of miracles that load And swell their paunches; yea, believe, forsooth. To a most pious race, Lord, Thou appealest, And stomachs most believing Thou revealest. G.

III.

_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.

_Of the tears of the suffering Christ._

O cruel Pain! I ask thee how Thou 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 amain His undeserving cheek, as rain! More meet it were that I should know The tears that from His anguish flow: More meet it were that I should feel All dews that down His wan cheek steal: O is it thus? Would that it were! That I might weep Thy laden tear: Yea, blessed Jesus, would that I For 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.

IV.

_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.

_The sepulchre of the Lord._

Yield place, ye wonders of the ancient stone Whence 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.

V.

_Ubi amorem praecipit._ Joan. xiii. 14.

Sic magis in numeros morituraque carmina vivit Dulcior 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.

VI.

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.

_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.

VII.

_Bonum est nobis esse hic._

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.

VIII.

_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.

_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 yield Long-flowing robes immaculate and tender. Ah, not like lilies--'tis divinely spoken-- Was Solomon, with sin encrimsoned; But not unlike--and 'tis a better token-- Roses tear-wash'd, which hang the blushing head. R. WI.

IX.

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.

_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.

X.

_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.

_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.

XI.

_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.

_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 learn He Who is now a Lamb will one day Lion turn. G.

XII.

_Christus a daemone vectus._ Matt. iv.

Ergo ille, angelicis o 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.

XIII.

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.

_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.

XIV.

_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.

_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.

XV.

_In natales Domini pastoribus nuntiatos._ Luc. ii. 8-19.

Ad te sydereis, ad te, bone Tityre, pennis Purpureus 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._

To thee, good Tityrus, on starry wings _shepherd_ The royal angel such 'glad tidings' brings. Surely the happy watcher never thought That he was watching when such joys were brought. And He, Whom thus the heavenly host reveal'd To 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 deigns To be a Lamb, for suffering of sin's pains? G.

XVI.

_In Atheniensem merum._ Act. xvii. 28.

Ipsos naturae thalamos sapis, imaque rerum Concilia, 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 things And all her deepest counsellings-- All wonders of the primal Night Conceal'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 advance Is 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.

XVII.

_Ego vitis vera._ Joan. xv. 1.

Credo quidem, sed et hoc hostis te credidit ipse Caiaphas, 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, believed Thee the True Vine; and Judas too, I think. Had they not, Lord, Thee as True Vine received, Could they have thirsted so Thy Blood to drink? G.

XVIII.

_Abscessum Christi queruntur Discipuli._

Ille abiit, jamque o 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.

XIX.

_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 ultra Tam 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 brook That we should mourn thee with so sad a look! 'Tis well; no other dew had countervail'd That which from earth to heaven was late exhal'd. R. WI.

XX.

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.

XXI.

_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.

_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 durst Thus set them ope. CR.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Now Thou art open wide; the barrier dear Of Thy great heart unclos'd by cruel spear; And nails as keys unlock Thee everywhere. Ah, he whose wicked hand thus forc'd the gate Of heaven, perhaps at heaven's shut door will wait One day, with outer darkness for his fate. G.

XXII.

_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.

_Upon the thornes taken downe from our Lord's head bloody._

Knowst thou this, souldier? 'tis a much-chang'd plant, which yet Thyselfe didst set; 'Tis chang'd indeed: did Autumn e're such beauties bring To shame his Spring? O, who so hard an husbandman could ever find A soyle so kind? Is not the soile a kind one, thinke ye, that returnes Roses 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.

XXIII.

Joan. iii. 1-21.

Nox erat, et Christum, Doctor male docte, petebas In 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, o 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 brought But while attent He speaks to thee Benignant 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 light Such 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.

XXIV.

_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?

_To Domitian, concerning St. John commanded to be cast into a caldron of boiling oil._

Thou go unpunish'd? That shall never be, Since thou hast dar'd to mock my gods and me. Burn him in oil!--The lictor oil prepares: Behold the Saint anointed unawares! With such elusive virtue was the oil fraught! Such aid thy olive-loving Pallas brought![89] R. WI.

XXV.

_In Baptistam vocem._ Joan. i. 23.

Tantum habuit Baptista loqui, tot flumina rerum, Ut bene Vox fuerit, praetereaque nihil. Ecce autem Verbum est unum tantum ille loquutus: Uno sed Verbo cuncta loquutus erat.

_The voice of the Baptist._

The Baptist had to speak such floods of things, That well he might be Voice and nothing more: But one word only, lo, Christ speaks, which brings In one word all: My soul that Word adore! G.

XXVI.

_In D. Petrum angelo solutum._ Act. xii. 6, 7.

Mors tibi et Herodes instant: cum nuncius ales Gaudia fert, quae tu somnia ferre putas. Quid tantum dedit ille, rogo, tibi? Vincula solvit, Mors tibi et Herodes nonne dedisset idem?

_On St. Peter loosed by the angel._

Death, Herod, press on thee; when angel's wing Brings joys which thou supposest dreams to bring. What gave he thee? Thy chains burst at his touch; But Death and Herod would have given as much. R. WI.

XXVII.

_Relictis omnibus sequuti sunt eum._ Luc. v. 28.

Ad nutum Domini abjecisti retia, Petre. Tam bene non unquam jacta fuere prius. Scilicet hoc recte jacere est tua retia, Petre, Nimirum, Christus cum jubet, abjicere.

_On St. Peter casting away his nets at our Saviour's call._

Thou hast the art on't, Peter, and canst tell To cast thy nets on all occasions well. When Christ calls, and thy nets would have thee stay, To cast them well's to cast them quite away. CR.

ANOTHER VERSION.

At the Lord's word thy nets were cast away: Never before thy nets so well were cast. Rightly to cast them is to cast away, When once The Master's order has been pass'd. G.

XXVIII.

_Agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata mundi._ Joan. i. 36.

Ergo tot heu, torvas facies, tot in ora leonum, In tot castra lupum qui meat, Agnus erit? Hic tot in horribiles, quot sunt mea crimina, pardos? Hic tot in audaces ungue vel ore feras? Ah melius, pugiles quis enim commiserit istos? Quos sua non faciunt arma vel ira pares.

_The Lamb of God, Who bears away the sins of the world._

Shall He, then, be a Lamb, to go Forth against such various foe? Lions ravenous, great of jaw; Wolves in vast herds, of mighty paw; Pards vengeful, prowling out and in-- Frightful, num'rous as my sin-- Awful of face, and gaunt and grim, Merciless to mangle limb by limb. Ah, goest Thou, gentle One, 'gainst these? And does terror upon Thee seize? O how unequal is the strife, And the prey so grand a life! With such as these to fight art fated? Nor in arms nor passion mated. G.

XXIX.

_Pisces multiplicati._ Joan. xxi. 11.

Quae secreta meant taciti tibi retia verbi, Queis non tam pisces quam capis Oceanum?

_The miraculous draught of fishes._

What nets, hid in Thy silent word, Passest Thou on; By which not fish Thou takest, Lord, But the Ocean? G.

XXX.

_Domine, non solum pedes, sed et caput, &c._ Joan. xiii. 9.

En caput, atque suis quae plus satis ora laborant Sordibus; huc fluvios, ais [et] adde tuos. Nil opus est; namque haec, modo tertius occinat ales, E fluviis fuerint, Petre, lavanda suis.

_Lord, not my feet only, but also my head, &c._

'Behold my head, behold my face, Which sin's filthiest stains deface: Here pour Thy streams:' thou say'st to Me. But, Peter, needs not this for thee; For ere the cock a third time crow, Rivers of its own tears must flow. G.

XXXI.

_Cum tot signa edidisset, non credebant._ Joan. xii. 37.

Quanta amor ille tuus se cunque levaverit ala, Quo tua cunque opere effloruit alta manus; Mundus adest, contraque tonat, signisque reponit Signa, adeo sua sunt numina vel sceleri, Imo, o nec nimii vis sit temeraria verbi, Ille uno sensu vel tua cuncta premit. Tot tantisque tuis mirac'lum hoc objicit unum, Tot tantisque tuis non adhibere fidem.

_Though they beheld so many miracles, they believed not._