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A Handbook for Latin Clubs

Chapter 104: INTEGER VITÆ.
By Susan Paxson
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About This Book

The handbook provides practical guidance and ready-made programs for secondary-school Latin clubs, combining organizational advice, topic-based meeting outlines, and resource suggestions for small schools. It offers extended programs on Roman life and culture—Pompeii, ancient Rome, the forum and house, slavery, children, education, professions, religion, literature, holidays, and monuments—supplemented by poems, translations, songs, and readings for performance. It advises collecting visual aids and library materials, supplies bibliographies and notes, and intentionally presents programs longer than a single session so teachers can select appropriate portions. The overall aim is to vivify Latin instruction through extracurricular club activity.

ORPHEUS

Orpheus he went (as poets tell)
To fetch Euridice from hell;
And had her; but it was upon
This short, but strict, condition:
Backward he should not looke while he
Led her through hell's obscuritie.
But ah! it happened as he made
His passage through that dreadful shade,
Revolve he did his loving eye,
For gentle feare, or jelousie,
And looking back, that look did sever
Him and Euridice forever.
—Robert Herrick

CERBERUS

Dear Reader, should you chance to go
To Hades, do not fail to throw
A "Sop to Cerberus" at the gate,
His anger to propitiate.
Don't say "Good dog!" and hope thereby
His three fierce Heads to pacify.
What though he try to be polite
And wag his tail with all his might,
How shall one amiable Tail
Against three angry Heads prevail?
The Heads must win.—What puzzles me
Is why in Hades there should be
A watchdog; 'tis, I should surmise,
The last place one would burglarize.
—Oliver Herford

THE HARPY

They certainly contrived to raise
Queer ladies in the olden days.
Either the type had not been fixed,
Or else Zoölogy got mixed.
I envy not primeval man
This female on the feathered plan.
We only have, I'm glad to say,
Two kinds of human birds today—
Women and warriors, who still
Wear feathers when dressed up to kill.
—Oliver Herford

CUPID AND THE BEE

Anacreon6
Young Cupid once a rose caressed,
And sportively its leaflets pressed.
The witching thing, so fair to view
One could not but believe it true,
Warmed, on its bosom false, a bee,
Which stung the boy-god in his glee.
Sobbing, he raised his pinions bright,
And flew unto the isle of light,
Where, in her beauty, myrtle-crowned,
The Paphian goddess sat enthroned.
Her Cupid sought, and to her breast
His wounded finger, weeping, pressed.
"O mother! kiss me," was his cry—
"O mother! save me, or I die;
A winged little snake or bee
With cruel sting has wounded me!"
The blooming goddess in her arms
Folded and kissed his budding charms;
To her soft bosom pressed her pride,
And then with truthful words replied:
"If thus a little insect thing
Can pain thee with its tiny sting,
How languish, think you, those who smart
Beneath my Cupid's cruel dart?
How fatal must that poison prove
That rankles on the shafts of Love."

THE ASSEMBLY OF THE GODS

O'er rolling stars, from heavenly stalls advancing,
The coaches soon were seen, and a long train
Of mules with litters, horses fleet and prancing,
Their trappings all embroidery, nothing plain;
And with fine liveries, in the sunbeams glancing,
More than a hundred servants, rather vain
Of handsome looks and of their stature tall,
Followed their masters to the Council Hall.
First came the Prince of Delos, Phoebus hight,
In a gay travelling carriage, fleetly drawn
By six smart Spanish chestnuts, shining bright,
Which with their tramping shook the aerial lawn;
Red was his cloak, three-cocked his hat, and light
Around his neck the golden fleece was thrown;
And twenty-four sweet damsels, nectar-sippers,
Were running near him in their pumps or slippers.
Pallas, with lovely but disdainful mien,
Came on a nag of Basignanian race;
Tight round her leg, and gathered up, was seen
Her gown, half Greek, half Spanish; o'er her face
Part of her hair hung loose, a natural screen,
Part was tied up, and with becoming grace;
A bunch of feathers on her head she wore,
And on her saddle-bow her falchion bore.
But Ceres and the God of Wine appeared
At once, conversing; and the God of Ocean
Upon a dolphin's back his form upreared,
Floating through waves of air with graceful motion;
Naked, all sea-weed, and with mud besmeared;
For whom his mother Rhea feels emotion,
Reproaching his proud brother, when she meets him,
Because so like a fisherman he treats him.
Diana, the sweet virgin, was not there;
She had risen early and o'er woodland green
Had gone to wash her clothes in fountain fair
Upon the Tuscan shore—romantic scene.
And not returning till the northern star
Had rolled through dusky air and lost its sheen,
Her mother made excuses quite provoking,
Knitting at the time, a worsted stocking.
Juno-Lucina did not go—and why?
She anxious wished to wash her sacred head.
Menippus, Jove's chief taster, standing by
For the disastrous Fates excuses made.
They had much tow to spin, and lint to dry,
And they were also busy baking bread.
The cellarman, Silenus, kept away,
To water the domestics' wine, that day.
On starry benches sit the famous warriors
Of the immortal kingdom, in a ring;
Now drums and cymbals, echoing to the barriers,
Announce the coming of the gorgeous king;
A hundred pages, valets, napkin-carriers
Attend, and their peculiar offerings bring.
And after them, armed with his club so hard,
Alcides, captain of the city guard.
With Jove's broad hat and spectacles arrived
The light-heeled Mercury; in his hand he bore
A sack, in which, of other means deprived,
He damned poor mortals' prayers, some million score;
Those he disposed in vessels, well contrived,
Which graced his father's cabinet of yore;
And, wont attention to all claims to pay,
He regularly signed them twice a day.
Then Jove himself, in royal habit dressed,
With starry diadem upon his head,
And o'er his shoulders an imperial vest
Worn upon holidays.—The king displayed
A sceptre, pastoral shape, with hooked crest:
In a rich jacket too was he arrayed,
Given by the inhabitants of Sericane,
And Ganymede held up his splendid train.
—A. Tassoni

A MODEL YOUNG LADY OF ANTIQUITY

(Pliny, the Younger, writes the following in a letter relative to the death of Minicia Marcella, the daughter of his friend, Fundanus.)

Tristissimus haec tibi scribo, Fundani nostri filia minore defuncta, qua puella nihil umquam festivius, amabilius, nec modo longiore vita sed prope immortalitate dignius vidi. Nondum annos quattuor decem impleverat, et iam illi anilis prudentia, matronalis gravitas erat, et tamen suavitas puellaris cum virginali verecundia. Ut illa patris cervicibus inhaerebat! Ut nos amicos paternos et amanter et modeste complectabatur! ut nutrices, ut paedagogos, ut praeceptores, pro suo quemque officio diligebat! quam studiose, quam intellegenter lectitabat! ut parce custoditeque ludebat! Qua illa temperantia, qua patientia, qua etiam constantia novissimam valetudinem tulit! Medicis obsequebatur, sororem, patrem adhortabatur, ipsamque se destitutam corporis viribus vigore animi sustinebat. Duravit hic illi usque ad extremum nec aut spatio valetudinis aut metu mortis infractus est, quo plures gravioresque nobis causas relinqueret et desiderii et doloris. O triste plane acerbumque funus! O morte ipsa mortis tempus indignius! Iam destinata erat egregio iuveni, iam electus nuptiarum dies, iam nos vocati. Quod gaudium quo maerore mutatum est! Nec possum exprimere verbis quantum anima vulnus acceperim, cum audivi Fundanum ipsum, praecipientem, quod in vestes margarita gemmas fuerat erogaturus, hoc in tus et unguenta et odores impenderetur.

—C. Pliny. Epist. v, 16
TRANSLATION

I have the saddest news to tell you. Our friend Fundanus has lost his youngest daughter. I never saw a girl more cheerful, more lovable, more worthy of long life—nay, of immortality. She had not yet completed her fourteenth year, and she had already the prudence of an old woman, the gravity of a matron, and still, with all maidenly modesty, the sweetness of a girl. How she would cling to her father's neck! how affectionately and discreetly she would greet us, her father's friends! how she loved her nurses, her attendants, her teachers,—everyone according to his service. How earnestly, how intelligently, she used to read! How modest was she and restrained in her sports! And with what self-restraint, what patience—nay, what courage—she bore her last illness! She obeyed the physicians, encouraged her father and sister, and, when all strength of body had left her, kept herself alive by the vigor of her mind. This vigor lasted to the very end, and was not broken by the length of her illness or by the fear of death; so leaving, alas! to us yet more and weightier reasons for our grief and our regret. Oh the sadness, the bitterness of that death! Oh the cruelty of the time when we lost her, worse even than the loss itself! She had been betrothed to a noble youth; the marriage day had been fixed, and we had been invited. How great a joy changed into how great a sorrow! I cannot express in words how it went to my heart when I heard Fundanus himself (this is one of the grievous experiences of sorrow) giving orders that what he had meant to lay out on dresses, and pearls, and jewels, should be spent on incense, unguents, and spices.

—Tr. Alfred J. Church

TO LESBIA'S SPARROW

Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque,
Et quantumst hominum venustiorum.
Passer mortuus est meae puellae,
Passer, deliciae meae puellae,
Quem plus illa oculis suis amabat:
Nam mellitus erat suamque norat
Ipsa tam bene quam puella matrem,
Nec sese a gremio illius movebat,
Sed circumsiliens modo huc modo illuc
Ad solam dominam usque pipiabat.
Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum
Illuc unde negant redire quemquam.
At vobis male sit, malae tenebrae
Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis:
Tam bellum mihi passerem abstulistis.
O factum male! io miselle passer!
Tua nunc opera meae puellae
Flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli.
—Catullus
TRANSLATION
Each Love, each Venus, mourn with me!
Mourn, every son of gallantry!
The sparrow, my own nymph's delight,
The joy and apple of her sight;
The honey-bird, the darling dies,
To Lesbia dearer than her eyes,
As the fair one knew her mother,
So he knew her from another.
With his gentle lady wrestling,
In her snowy bosom nestling;
With a flutter and a bound,
Quiv'ring round her and around;
Chirping, twitt'ring, ever near,
Notes meant only for her ear.
Now he skims the shadowy way,
Whence none return to cheerful day.
Beshrew the shades! that thus devour
All that's pretty in an hour.
The pretty sparrow thus is dead;
The tiny fugitive is fled.
Deed of spite! poor bird!—ah! see,
For thy dear sake, alas! for me!—
My nymph with brimful eyes appears,
Red from the flushing of her tears.
—Elton

CICERO

The following tribute to Cicero was written by Catullus, the Roman lyric poet (87-54 b.c.)

Disertissime Romuli nepotum,
Quot sunt quotque fuere, Marce Tulli,
Quot que post aliis erunt in annis,
Gratius tibi maximas Catullus
Agit, pessimus omnium poeta,
Tanto pessimus omnium poeta
Quanto tu optimus omnium patronum.
TRANSLATION
Tully, most eloquent, most sage
Of all the Roman race,
That deck the past or present age,
Or future days may grace.
Oh! may Catullus thus declare
An overflowing heart;
And, though the worst of poets, dare
A grateful lay impart!
'Twill teach thee how thou hast surpast
All others in thy line;
For, far as he in his is last,
Art thou the first in thine.
—Charles Lamb

DE PATIENTIA

Patiendo fit homo melior,
Auro pulchrior,
Vitro clarior,
Laude dignior,
Gradu altior,
A vitiis purgatior,
Virtutibus perfectior,
Iesu Christo acceptior,
Sanctis quoque similior,
Hostibus suis fortior,
Amicis amabilior.
—Thomas à Kempis

THE FAVORITE PRAYER OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS7

O Domine Deus!
Speravi in te;
O care mi Iesu!
Nunc libera me:
In dura catena
In misera poena
Desidero te;
Languendo, gemendo,
Et genuflectendo
Adoro, imploro,
Ut liberes me!
TRANSLATION
My Lord and my God! I have trusted in Thee;
O Jesus, my Savior belov'd, set me free:
In rigorous chains, in piteous pains,
I am longing for Thee!
In weakness appealing, in agony kneeling,
I pray, I beseech Thee, O Lord, set me free!

ULTIMA THULE

American pride has often gloried in Seneca's "Vision of the West" written more than 1800 years ago.

Venient annis
Saecula seris, quibus Oceanus
Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens
Pateat tellus, Tethysque novos
Detegat orbes, nec sit terris
Ultima Thule.
—Seneca
TRANSLATION
A time will come in future ages far
When Ocean will his circling bounds unbar,
And, opening vaster to the Pilot's hand,
New worlds shall rise, where mightier kingdoms are,
Nor Thule longer be the utmost land.

THE ROMAN OF OLD

Oh, the Roman was a rogue,
He erat, was, you bettum;
He ran his automobilis
And smoked his cigarettum;
He wore a diamond studibus
And elegant cravatum,
A maxima cum laude shirt
And such a stylish hattum.
He loved the luscious hic-haec-hoc,
And bet on games and equi:
At times he won: at others, though,
He got it in the nequi.
He winked (quousque tandem?)
At puellas on the Forum,
And sometimes even made
Those goo-goo oculorum!
He frequently was seen
At combats gladiatorial,
And ate enough to feed
Ten boarders at Memorial:
He often went on sprees,
And said on starting homus,
"Hic labor, opus est,
Oh, where's my hic-haec-domus?"
Although he lived in Rome—
Of all the arts the middle—
He was (excuse the phrase)
A horrid individ'l;
Ah, what a different thing
Was the homo (dative homini)
Of far away B. C.
From us of Anno Domini!
—Harvard Lampoon

ICH BIN DEIN

The Journal of Education commends this ingenious poem, written in seven languages— English, French, German, Greek, Latin, Spanish, and Italian— as one of the best specimens of Macaronic verse in existence, and worthy of preservation by all collectors.

In tempus old a hero lived,
Qui loved puellas deux;
He no pouvait pas quite to say
Which one amabat mieux.
Dit-il lui-meme un beau matin,
"Non possum both avoir,
Sed si address Amanda Ann,
Then Kate y yo have war.
Amanda habet argent coin,
Sed Kate has aureas curls;
Et both sunt very agathæ
Et quite formosæ girls."
Enfin the joven anthropos,
Philoun the duo maids,
Resolved proponere ad Kate
Devant cet evening's shades,
Procedens then to Kate's domo,
Il trouve Amanda there,
Kai quite forgot his late resolves,
Both sunt so goodly fair,
Sed smiling on the new tapis,
Between puellas twain,
Coepit to tell suo love a Kate
Dans un poetique strain.
Mais, glancing ever et anon
At fair Amanda's eyes,
Illæ non possunt dicere
Pro which he meant his sighs.
Each virgo heard the demi-vow,
Con cheeks as rouge as wine,
Ed offering, each, a milk-white hand,
Both whispered, "Ich bin dein."

MALUM OPUS

Prope ripam fluvii solus
A senex silently sat;
Super capitum ecce his wig,
Et wig super, ecce his hat.
Blew Zephyrus alte, acerbus,
Dum elderly gentleman sat;
Et a capite took up quite torve
Et in rivum projecit his hat.
Tunc soft maledixit the old man,
Tunc stooped from the bank where he sat,
Et cum scipio poked in the water,
Conatus servare his hat.
Blew Zephyrus alte, acerbus,
The moment it saw him at that;
Et whisked his novum scratch wig
In flumen, along with his hat.
Ab imo pectore damnavit,
In coeruleus eye dolor sat;
Tunc despairingly threw in his cane,
Nare cum his wig and his hat.

L'Envoi

Contra bonos mores, don't swear
It est wicked you know (verbum sat)
Si this tale habet no other moral
Mehercle! You're gratus to that.
—James A. Morgan

FELIS

A cat sedebat on our fence
As laeta as could be;
Her vox surgebat to the skies,
Canebat merrily.
My clamor was of no avail,
Tho' clare did I cry.
Conspexit me with mild reproof,
And winked her alter eye.
Quite vainly ieci boots, a lamp,
Some bottles and a book;
Ergo, I seized my pistol, et
My aim cum cura took.
I had six shots, dixi, "Ye gods,
May I that felis kill!"
Quamquam I took six of her lives
The other three sang still.
The felis sang with major vim,
Though man's aim was true,
Conatus sum, putare quid
In tonitru I'd do.
A scheme advenit in my head
Scivi, 'twould make her wince—
I sang! Et then the hostis fled
Non eam vidi since.
—Tennessee University Magazine

AMANTIS RES ADVERSAE

A homo ibat, one dark night
Puellas visitare
Et mansit there so very late
Ut illi constet cura.
Pueri walking by the house
Saw caput in fenestra,
Et sunt morati for a while
To see quis erat in there.
Soon caput turned its nasum round
In viam puerorum;
Agnoscunt there the pedagogue,
Oh! maximum pudorem!
Progressus puer to the door
Cum magna quietate,
Et turned the key to lock him in
Moratus satis ante.
Tum pedagogue arose to go
Est feeling hunky-dore:
Sed non potest to get out
Nam key's outside the fore.
Ascendit sweetheart now the stairs
Cum festinato pede,
Et roused puellas from their sleep
Sed habent non the door key.
Tum excitavit dominum
By her tumultuous voce
Insanus currit to the door
Et vidit puellam.
"Furenti place," the master roared,
"Why spoil you thus my somnum?
Exite from the other door
Si rogues have locked the front one."
Puella tristis hung her head
And took her lover's manum,
Et cite from the other door
His caput est impulsum.
Cum magno gradu redit domum
Retrorsum umquam peeping,
Et never ausus est again
Vexare people's sleeping.

PUER EX JERSEY

Puer ex Jersey
Iens ad school;
Vidit in meadow,
Infestum mule.
Ille approaches
O magnus sorrow!
Puer it skyward
Funus tomorrow.

Moral

Qui vidit a thing
Non ei well-known
Est bene for him
Id relinqui alone.
—Anonymous

SONGS THAT MAY BE USED FOR THE PROGRAMS

FLEVIT LEPUS PARVULUS8

16th Century Student Song
Flevit lepus parvulus
clamans altis vocibus:

Chorus

Quid feci hominibus,
quod me sequuntur canibus?
Neque in horto fui,
neque olus comedi.
Longas aures habeo,
brevem caudam teneo.
Leves pedes habeo,
magnum saltum facio.
Domus mea silva est,
lectus meus durus est.



CARMEN VITÆ.

H. W. Longfellow, 1839, English
B. L. D'Ooge, 1885, Latin
F. H. Barthélémon, 1741-1808
Ne narrate verbis mæstis,
Esse vitam somnium!
Vita nam iners est inanis,
Et est visum perfidum.
Vita vera! vita gravis!
Meta non est obitus;
"Cinis es et cinis eris,"
Nihil est ad spiritus.
Ned lætitia, nec mæror,
Finis designatus est;
Sed augere, est noster labor,
Semper rem quæ nobis est.
Ars est longa, tempus fugit,
Ut cor tuum valens sit,
Tamen modum tristem tundit
Neniæ qui concinit.
Orbis terræ campo in lato,
In ætatis proeliis,
Mutum pecus turpe ne esto!
Heros esto in copiis!
Fidere futuro noli!
Anni numquam redeunt.
Age nunc! age in præsenti!
Fortes dei diligunt.
Summi nos admonent omnes
Simus inter nobilis,
Et legemus, disce dentes,
Signa viæ posteris;
Signa forsitan futura
Alicui felicia,
Qui, tum in dura vitæ via,
Cernat hæc cum gratia.
Agite, tum nos nitamur
Quidquid erit, fortiter,
Superantes iam sequamur
Patienter, acriter.
Vita vera! vita gravis!
Meta non est obitus;
"Cinis es et cinis eris,"
Nihil est ad spiritus.

GAUDEAMUS

Gaudeamus igitur,
Iuvenes dum sumus;
Post iucundam iuventutem,
Post molestam senectutem,
Nos habebit humus.
Ubi sunt, qui ante nos
In mundo fuere?
Transeas ad superos,
Abeas ad inferos,
Quos si vis videre.
Vita nostra brevis est,
Brevi finietur;
Venit mors velociter,
Rapit nos atrociter,
Nemini parcetur.
Vivat academia,
Vivant professores,
Vivat membrum quodlibet,
Vivant membra quaelibet,
Semper sint in flore.
Vivant omnes virgines,
Faciles formosae;
Vivant et mulieres,
Dulces et amabiles,
Bonae, laboriosae.
Vivat et res publica,
Et qui illam regit.
Vivat nostra civitas,
Maecenatum caritas,
Quae nos hic protegit.
Pereat tristitia,
Pereant osores,
Pereat diabolus,
Quivis antiburschius
Atque irrisores.
TRANSLATION
While the glowing hours are bright,
Let not sadness mar them,
For when age shall rifle youth,
And shall drive our joys unsooth,
Then the grave will bar them.
Where are those who from the world
Long ago departed!
Scale Olympus' lofty height—
See grim Hades' murky night—
There are the great hearted.
Mortal life is but a span,
That is quickly fleeting;
Cruel death comes on apace
And removes us from the race,
None with favor treating.
Long may this fair temple stand,
Nassau now and ever!
Long may her professors grace
Each his own time honored place,
Friendship failing never.
May our charming maidens live,
Matchless all in beauty,
May our blooming matrons long
Be the theme of grateful song,
Patterns bright of duty.
May our Union grow in strength,
Faithful rulers guiding;
In the blaze of Freedom's light
Where the genial arts are bright,
Find we rest abiding.
Out on sighing! Vanish hate,
And ye friends of sadness;
To his chill abode of woe,
Let the dread Philistine go,
Who would steal our gladness.
—Tr. J. A. Pearce, Jr.

LAURIGER HORATIUS.

Lauriger Horatius,
Quam dixisti verum!
Fugit Euro citius
Tempus edax rerum.

Chorus

Ubi sunt, O pocula,
Dulciora melle,
Rixae, pax, et oscula
Rubentis puellae?
Crescit uva molliter,
Et puella crescit,
Sed poeta turpiter
Sitiens canescit.
Quid iuvat aeternitas
Nominis, amare
Nisi terrae filias
Licet, et potare?
TRANSLATION
Horace, crowned with laurels bright,
Truly thou hast spoken;
Time outspeeds the swift winds' flight,
Earthly power is broken.

Chorus

Give me cups that foaming rise,
Cups with fragrance laden,
Pouting lips and smiling eyes,
Of a blushing maiden.
Blooming grows the budding vine,
And the maid grows blooming;
But the poet quaffs not wine,
Age is surely dooming.
Who would grasp at empty fame?
'Tis a fleeting vision;
But for love and wine we claim,
Sweetness all Elysian.
—Tr. J. A. Pearce, Jr.

AMERICA

This singable Latin translation of America was made by Professor George D. Kellogg of Union College and appeared in The Classical Weekly.

Te cano, Patria,
candida, libera;
te referet
portus et exulum
et tumulus senum;
libera montium
vox resonet.
Te cano, Patria,
semper et atria
ingenuum;
laudo virentia
culmina, flumina;
sentio gaudia
caelicolum.
Sit modulatio!
libera natio
dulce canat!
labra vigentia,
ora faventia,
saxa silentia
vox repleat!
Tutor es unicus,
unus avum deus!
Laudo libens.
Patria luceat,
libera fulgeat,
vis tua muniat,
Omnipotens!

INTEGER VITÆ.

Horace. Book I, Ode xxii
Integer vitae, scelerisque purus
Non eget Mauris jaculis nec arcu,
Nec venenatis gravida sagittis,
Fusce, pharetra.
Sive per Syrtes, iter aestuosas,
Sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum, vel quae loca fabulosus
Lambit Hydaspes.
Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor aestiva recreatur aura;
Quod latus mundi nebulae malusque
Iuppiter urget;
Pone sub curru nimium propinqui
Solis, in terra domibus negata:
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
Dulce loquentem.
TRANSLATION
Fuscus, the man of life upright and pure
Needeth nor javelin, nor bow of Moor
Nor arrows tipped with venom deadly-sure,
Loading his quiver.
Whether o'er Afric's burning sand he rides,
Or frosty Caucasus' bleak mountain-sides,
Or wanders lonely, where Hydaspes glides,
That storied river.
Place me where no life-laden summer breeze
Freshens the meads, or murmurs 'mongst the trees;
Where clouds oppress, and withering tempests' breeze
From shore to shore.
Place me beneath the sunbeams' fiercest glare,
On arid sands, no dwelling anywhere,
Still Lalage's sweet smile, sweet voice e'en there
I will adore.
—Tr. William Greenwood

ROCK OF AGES

Iesu, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus,
Tu per lympham profluentem,
Tu per sanguinem tepentem,
In peccata mi redunda,
Tolle culpam, sordes munda.
Coram te nec iustus forem,
Quamvis tota vi laborem.
Nec si fide nunquam cesso,
Fletu stillans indefesso:
Tibi soli tantum munus:
Salva me, Salvator unus!
Nil in manu mecum fero
Sed me versus crucem gero;
Vestimenta nudus oro,
Opem debilis imploro;
Fontem Christi quaero immundus,
Nisi laves, moribundus.
Dum hos artus vita regit;
Quando nox sepulchre tegit;
Mortuos cum stare iubes;
Sedens iudex inter nubes;
Iesu, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus.
—Toplady. Tr. by Gladstone

DIES IRAE9

Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sybilla.
Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando iudex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!
Tuba, mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulcra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Mors stupebit, et natura,
Cum resurget creatura
Iudicanti responsura.
Liber scriptus proferetur,
Inquo totum continetur,
Unde mundus iudicetur.
Iudex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet, apparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus,
Quem patronum rogaturus,
Cum vix iustus sit securus?
Rex tremendae maiestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis!
Recordare, Iesu pie,
Quod sum causa tuae viae;
Ne me perdas illa die!
Quaerens me sedisti lassus,
Redemisti crucem passus:
Tantus labor non sit cassus!
Iuste iudex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis
Ante diem rationis!
—Thomas of Celano
TRANSLATION
Day of Wrath,—that Day of Days,—
When earth shall vanish in a blaze,
As David, with the Sibyl, says!
What a trembling will come o'er us,
When the Judge shall be before us,
For every hidden sin to score us!
The trumpet with its wondrous sound,
Piercing each sepulchral mound,
Shall summon all, the throne around.
Nature and death will stand aghast,
When those who to the grave have past,
Come answering to the judgment blast!
The Written Book shall be unrolled,
Wherein the deeds of all are told,
And shall the doom of all unfold.
For when the Judge shall be enthroned,
No secret shall be left unowned,
No crime or trespass unatoned.
When for a guilty wretch like me,
What plea, what pleader, will there be,
When scarcely shall the just go free!
King of tremendous majesty,
Whose grace saves all who saved may be,
Fountain of mercy, oh save me!
Forget not then, dear Son of God,
For my sake Thou thy way hast trod,
Nor let me sink beneath thy rod.
Yes, me to save Thou sat'st in pain,
Nor didst the bitter Cross disdain,—
Let not such anguish be in vain!
Unerring Judge, thy wrath restrain,
And let my sins remission gain,
While still the days of grace remain.
—Tr. Robert C. Winthrop

AD SANCTUM SPIRITUS10

Veni, Sancte Spiritus,
Et emitte coelitus
Lucis tuae radium.
Veni, pater pauperum,
Veni, dator munerum,
Veni, lumen cordium;
O lux beatissima,
Reple cordis intima
Tuorum fidelium!
Sine tuo numine
Nihil est in homine,
Nihil est innoxium.
Da tuis fidelibus
In te confitentibus
Sacrum septenarium;
Da virtutis meritum,
Da salutis exitum,
Da perenne gaudium!
TRANSLATION
Holy Spirit, come, we pray
Shed from Heaven thine inward ray,
Kindle darkness into day.
Come, Thou Father of the poor,
Come, Thou source of all our store,
Light of hearts forevermore.
Light most blissful! Fire divine!
Fill, oh! fill these hearts of Thine!
On our inmost being shine.
If in Thee it be not wrought
All in men is simply naught,
Nothing pure in deed and thought.
On the faithful who confide,
Solely in Thyself as guide,
Let Thy sevenfold gifts abide.
Grant them virtue's full increase,
Grant them safe and sweet release,
Grant them everlasting peace!

ADESTE, FIDELES

A Christmas Hymn
Adeste, fideles,
Laeti, triumphantes,
Venite, venite in Bethlehem:
Natum videte
Regem Angelorum:

Chorus

Venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus Dominum.
Deum de Deo,
Lumen de lumine,
Gestant puellae viscera:
Deum verum,
Genitum non factum:
Cantet nunc Io
Chorus Angelorum,
Cantet nunc aula caelestium:
Gloria in
Excelsis Deo:
Ergo qui natus
Die hodierna
Iesu, tibi sit gloria:
Patris aeterni
Verbum caro factum.
TRANSLATION
O come, all ye faithful,
Joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
Come and behold him.
Born, the King of Angels;
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.
God of God,
Light of Light,
Lo! He abhors not the Virgin's womb;
Very God,
Begotten, not created;
O come, let us adore Him, etc.
Sing choirs of Angels,
Sing in exultation,
Sing, all ye citizens of Heav'n above:
"Glory to God
In the highest";
O come, let us adore Him, etc.
Yea, Lord, we greet Thee,
Born this happy morning;
Jesu, to Thee be glory given;
Word of the Father,
Now in flesh appearing;
O come, let us adore Him, etc.

DE NATIVITATE DOMINI11

Puer natus in Bethlehem
Unde gaudet Ierusalem
Hic iacet in praesepio,
Qui regnat sine termino.
Cognovit bos et asinus
Quod puer erat Dominus.
Reges de Saba veniunt,
Aurum, thus, myrrham offerunt.
Intrantes domum invicem
Novum salutant Principem.
De matre natus virgine
Sine virile semine;
Sine serpentis vulnere
De nostro venit sanguine;
In carne nobis similis,
Peccato sed dissimilis;
Ut redderet nos homines
Deo et sibi similes
In hoc natali gaudio
Benedicamus Domino.
Laudetur sancta Trinitas;
Deo dicamus gratias.