The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw, Volume II

EPIGRAMMATA SACRA.

I.

Pharisaeus et Publicanus. Luc. xviii. 14-19.

En duo templum adeunt, diversis mentibus ambo.
Ille procul trepido lumine signat humum:
It gravis hic, et in alta ferox penetralia tendit.
Plus habet hic templi; plus habet ille Dei.

Ἄνδρες, ἰδοὺ, ἑτέροισι νόοις, δύω ἱρὸν ἐσῆλθον.
Τηλόθεν ὀῤῥωδεῖ κεῖνος ὁ φρικαλέος·
Ἀλλ' ὁ μὲν ὡς σοβαρὸς νηοῦ μυχὸν ἐγγὺς ἱκάνει·
Πλεῖον ὁ μὲν νηοῦ, πλεῖον ὁ δ' εἶχε Θεοῦ.

Two went up into the Temple to pray.

Two went to pray! O, rather say,
One went to brag, th' other to pray.
One stands up close, and treads on high,
Where th' other dares not send his eye.
One neerer to God's altar trod;
The other to the altar's God. Cr.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Two men unto the Temple went to pray.
That, with a downcast look, stood far away;
This, near the altar, himself highly bore:
This of the Temple, that of God hath more. B.

II.

In asinum Christi vectorem. Matt. xxi. 7.

Ille [43] suum didicit quondam objurgare magistrum:
Et quid ni discas tu celebrare tuum?
Mirum non minus est, te jam potuisse tacere,
Illum quam fuerat tum potuisse loqui.

Upon the asse that bore our Saviour.

Hath only Anger an omnipotence
In eloquence?
Within the lips of Love and Joy doth dwell
No miracle?
Why else had Balaam's asse a tongue to chide
His master's pride,
And thou, heaven-burthen'd beast, hast ne're a word
To praise thy Lord?
That he should find a tongue and vocal thunder
Was a great wonder;
But O, methinkes, 'tis a farre greater one
That thou find'st none. Cr.

MORE CLOSELY.

The ass of old had power to chide its wilful lord;
And hast not thou the power to speak one praiseful word?
Not less a marvel, sure, this silence is in thee
Than that the ass of old to speak had liberty. G.

III.

Dominus apud suos vilis. Luc. iv. 28-29.

En consanguinei! patriis en exul in oris
Christus! et haud alibi tam peregrinus erat.
Qui socio demum pendebat sanguine latro,
O consanguineus quam fuit ille magis!

The Lord 'despised and rejected' by His own people.

See, O my kinsmen, what strange thing is this!
Christ in's own country a great stranger is.
The thief which bled upon the Cross with Thee
Was more ally'd in consanguinity.[44] B.

IV.

Ad Bethesdae piscinam positus. Joan. v. 1-16.

Quis novus hic refugis incumbit Tantalus undis,
Quem fallit toties tam fugitiva salus?
Unde hoc naufragium felix medicaeque procellae,
Vitaque tempestas quam pretiosa dedit?

The cripple at the Pool of Bethesda.

What Tantalus is this, who health still craves
So oft, yet vainly, from the refluent waves?
And whence this happy wreck, this healing strife,
This storm that drifts its victim into life? Cl.

ANOTHER VERSION.

What new Tantalus is here,
Couch'd by this swift-ebbing wave,
Whom the healing flood comes near,
Then retiring fails to save?

O, what happy shipwreck this,
And a cure by conflict wrought!
Strange that woe should thus win bliss,
From disaster life be brought! G.

V.

Christus ad Thomam. Joan. xx. 26-29.

Saeva fides, voluisse meos tractare dolores!
Crudeles digiti, sic didicisse Deum!
Vulnera ne dubites, vis tangere nostra: sed, eheu,
Vulnera, dum dubitas, tu graviora facis.

Christ to Thomas.

Harsh faith, and wouldst thou probe these signs of woe?
O cruel fingers, would ye prove God so?
Touch them, lest thou shouldst doubt? Then have thy will;
But, ah, thy doubting makes them deeper still. Cl.

ANOTHER RENDERING.

O cruel faith, afresh my pangs to move!
O ruthless fingers, thus their Lord to prove!
See, touch the wounds; doubt not; but with such doubt
Thou makest all those wounds afresh gush out. A.

VI.

Quisquis perdiderit animam suam mea causa inveniet eam. Matt. xvi. 25.

I, vita, i, perdam: mihi mors tua, Christe, reperta est:
Mors tua vita mea est; mors tibi vita mea.
Aut ego te abscondam Christi, mea vita, sepulchro:
Non adeo procul est tertius ille dies.

Whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find it.

Away, my life! Lord Christ, I have Thy death:
My life's Thy death, and Thy death gives me breath.
But come, my life, I'll hide thee in His tomb:
The third day hence is not so long to come. A.

VII.

Primo mane venit ad sepulchrum Magdalena. Joan. xx. 1.

Tu matutinos praevertis, sancta, rubores,
Magdala; sed jam tum Sol tuus ortus erat.[45]
Jamque vetus merito vanos sol non agit ortus,
Et tanti radios non putat esse suos.
Quippe aliquo, reor, ille novus jam nictat in astro,
Et se nocturna parvus habet facula.
Quam velit ô tantae vel nuntius esse diei,
Atque novus Soli Lucifer ire novo!

[Mary] Magdalene early, when it was yet dark, cometh unto the sepulchre.

Thou holy Magdalene,
Ere rosy morn was seen,
Awokest; but e'en then
Thy Sun was in thy ken.

Now the great olden sun,
Rising as wont upon
The earth, is wilderèd
With new beams round him shed.

Lo, as a star he seems,
Or torch with nigh-quench'd beams;
Keeping himself still small
Before the Lord of All.

How well might'st thou, O Sun,
Submit to be outshone,
And, as a morning-star,
Herald One grander far! G.

VIII.

Quinque panes ad quinque hominum millia. Joan. vi. 9.

En mensae faciles, redivivaque vulnera coenae,
Quaeque indefessa provocat ora dape!
Aucta Ceres stupet arcana se crescere messe.
Denique quid restat? Pascitur ipse cibus.

On the miracle of multiplyed loaves.

See here an easie feast that knows no wound,
That under Hunger's teeth will needs be found;
A subtle harvest of unbounded bread:
What would ye more? Here Food itselfe is fed. Cr.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Eas'ly-furnish'd table!
And feast increas'd by eating:
Still the mouth entreating.

The bread itself, unable
To tell whence it flows,
Finds it most surely grows.

Finds itself guest—no fable!
Whence is the mystic dower?
From Him Who is all power. G.

IX.

Æthiops lotus. Act. viii. 38.

Ille niger sacris exit, quam lautus! ab undis:
Nec frustra Æthiopem nempe lavare fuit.
Mentem quam niveam piceae cutis umbra fovebit?
Tam volet et nigros sancta Columba lares.

On the baptized Ethiopian.

Let it no longer be a forlorne hope
To wash an Ethiope:
He's washt; his gloomy skin a peacefull shade
For his white soule is made:
And now, I doubt not, the Eternall Dove
A black-fac'd house will love. Cr.

ANOTHER VERSION.

How fair this Ethiop comes from th' holy fount!
To wash a Black we may not vain account.
How bright a soul is in a cloudy skin!
The Dove now loves a black house to dwell in. B.

X.

Publicanus procul stans percutiebat pectus suum. Luc. xviii. 13.

Ecce hic peccator timidus petit advena templum:
Quodque audet solum, pectora moesta ferit.
Fide miser; pulsaque fores has fortiter: illo
Invenies templo tu propiore Deum.

The publican standing afar off smote on his breast.

Lo, a sinner, timid stranger,
Stranger to the Lord our God,
Seeks, in consciousness of danger,
Where to leave sin's awful load.
He to the Temple now is come,
Bow'd in dread beside the door;
His pallid lips, behold, are dumb;
He smites his bosom, dares no more.
Ah, distress'd one, smite thee there
In that temple, God is near. G.

XI.

[In] obolum viduae. Marc. xii. 44.

Gutta brevis nummi, vitae patrona senilis,
E digitis stillat non dubitantis anus;
Istis multa vagi spumant de gurgite census:
Isti abjecerunt scilicet; illa dedit.

Κερματίοιο βραχεῖα ῥανὶς, βιότοιό τ' ἀφαυρῆς
Ἕρκος, ἀποστάζει χειρὸς ἀπὸ τρομερᾶς.
Τοῖς δὲ ἀνασκιρτᾷ πολὺς ἀφρὸς ἀναιδέος ὄλβου.
οἱ μὲν ἀπέῤῥιπτον· κεῖνα δέδωκε μόνον.

The widow's mites.

Two mites, two drops—yet all her house and land—
Falle from a steady heart though trembling hand:
The others' wanton wealth foams high and brave.
The other cast away; she only gave. Cr.

XII.

Maria vero assidens ad pedes ejus audiebat eum. Luc. x. 39.

Aspice, namque novum est, ut ab hospite pendeat hospes!
Hinc ori parat, hoc sumit ab ore cibos.
Tune epulis adeo es, soror, officiosa juvandis,
Et sinis has, inquit, Martha, perire dapes?

Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard His word.

Behold, a new thing here—host hanging on her Guest!
Preparing for His mouth, His mouth's words are her feast!
O Martha sister, spare thy labour and thy cost:
Tending the food that perisheth, diviner food is lost. G.

XIII.

In Spiritus Sancti descensum. Act. ii.

Ferte sinus, ô, ferte: cadit vindemia coeli,
Sanctaque ab aethereis volvitur uva jugis.
Felices nimium, queis tam bona musta bibuntur;
In quorum gremium lucida pergit hiems!
En caput, en ut nectareo micat et micat astro;
Gaudet et in roseis viva corona comis.
Illis, ô Superi, quis sic neget ebrius esse?
Illis, ne titubent, dant sua vina faces.

The descent of the Holy Spirit.

Bear, O bosoms, bear ye what Heaven's vintage showers,
Sacred clusters pouring from ethereal bowers.
Too happy, surely, ye who drink of wine so good;
It comes into your bosoms a sparkling, cooling flood.
Behold, with nectar'd star each head is shining, shining;
Around your purpl'd locks a crown of life entwining.
O Spirit of all flesh, to drink who'd be denied,
Since Thou, lest they should falter, mak'st wine a torch to guide? G.

XIV.

Congestis omnibus peregre profectus est. Luc. xv. 13.

Dic mihi, quo tantos properas, puer auree, nummos?
Quorsum festinae conglomerantur opes?
Cur tibi tota vagos ructans patrimonia census?
Non poterunt siliquae nempe minoris emi?

ON THE PRODIGALL.

The younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country.

Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad,
Whither away so frolick? why so glad?
What all thy wealth in counsile? all thy state?
Are husks so deare? troth, 'tis a mighty rate. Cr.

XV.

Non solum vinciri, sed et mori paratus sum. Act. xxi. 13.

Non modo vinc'la, sed et mortem tibi, Christe, subibo,
Paulus ait, docti callidus arte doli.
Diceret hoc aliter: Tibi non modo velle ligari,
Christe, sed et solvi [46] nempe paratus ero.

I am ready not to be bound only, but to dye.

Come death, come bonds, nor do you shrink, my eares,
At those hard words man's cowardize calls feares.
Save those of feare, no other bands feare I;
Nor other death than this—the feare to die. Cr.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Not bonds for Thee, Lord, but death too I'll brave,
Says Paul, adept in double-meanings grave.
The words meant more: his wish was to be bound
For Christ; but loosèd too, and with Him found. G.

XVI.

In Herodem σκωληκόβρωτον. Act. xii. 23.

Ille Deus, Deus! haec populi vox unica: tantum,
Vile genus, vermes credere velle negant.
At cito se miseri, cito nunc errasse fatentur;
Carnes degustant, ambrosiamque putant.

On Herod worshipped as a god, eaten of worms.

A god! a god! one-mouth'd the people cry;
Only the worms, vile tribe, his claim deny.
Yet they, too, soon confess themselves astray,
For in his flesh they find ambrosia. Cl.

XVII.

Videns ventum magnum timuit, et cum coepisset demergi, clamavit, &c. Matt. xiv.

Petre, cades, ô, si dubitas: ô, fide: nec ipsum,
Petre, negat fidis aequor habere fidem.
Pondere pressa suo subsidunt caetera: solum,
Petre, tuae mergit te levitatis onus.[47]

When he saw the wind boisterous he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, &c.

Peter! doubt, and thou sinkest! O, believe;
The sea will not thy faith, Peter, deceive.
Things by their weight subside into the wave;
Thy lightness, Peter, threats a wat'ry grave. G.

XVIII.

Obtulit eis pecunias. Act. viii. 18.

Quorsum hos hic nummos profers? quorsum, impie Simon?
Non ille hic Judas, sed tibi Petrus adest.
Vis emisse Deum? potius, precor, hoc age, Simon,
Si potes, ipse prius daemona vende tuum.

He offered them money.

Money! what wouldst thou, impious? Look and see,
'Tis Peter, not Iscariot, speaks to thee.
Wouldst thou buy God? Nay, Simon, change thy tone,
And try to sell that demon of thine own. Cl.

XIX.

Umbra S. Petri medetur aegrotis. Act. v. 15.

Conveniunt alacres, sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras,
Atque umbras fieri, creditis? umbra vetat.
O Petri umbra potens, quae non miracula praestat?
Nunc quoque, Papa, tuum sustinet illa decus.

The shadow of St. Peter heals the sick.

Beneath that shadow they delight to crowd;
To turn to shades by that shade not allow'd.
From Peter's shadow what may we not hope,
Now all thy glory it sustains, O Pope! G.

XX.

Tetigit linguam ejus, &c. ... et loquebatur ... et praecepit illis ne cui dicerent: illi vero eo magis praedicabant. Marc. vii. 33, 36.

Christe, jubes muta ora loqui; muta ora loquuntur:
Sana tacere jubes ora; nec illa tacent.
Si digito tunc usus eras, muta ora resolvens;
Nonne opus est tota nunc tibi, Christe, manu?

The dumbe healed, and the people enjoyned silence.

Christ bids the dumbe tongue speake; it speakes: the sound
Hee charges to be quiet; it runs round.
If in the first He us'd His finger's touch,
His hand's whole strength here could not be too much. Cr.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Christ, the mute lips Thou bidst to speak; and lo,
Straightway words flow:
Thou mute wouldst have the speaking lips; but they
Thee disobey.
If, then, a single finger Thou didst use
Mute tongues to loose,
Thy whole hand now we need; for old and young
Have ceaseless tongue. G.

XXI.

Sacerdos quidam descendens eadem via vidit, et praeteriit. Luc. x. 32.

Spectasne, ah, placidisque oculis mea vulnera tractas?
O dolor! ô nostris vulnera vulneribus!
Pax oris quam torva tui est! quam triste serenum!
Tranquillus miserum qui videt, ipse facit.

And a certaine priest comming that way looked on him, and passed by.

Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by,
Handling and turning them with an unwounded eye?
The calm that cools thine eye does shipwrack mine; for O,
Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so. Cr.

ANOTHER RENDERING.

Dost look upon my wounds, serene-faced Priest?
Thy placid eyes give wounds more deep and sore.
O, thy calm stare avert! pass on, at least:
They who see woe unmov'd cause it, and more. G.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Canst look, and by with look so tranquil pass,
Nor heed my wounds? O, wounds on wounds, alas!
O peace, too grim! on it set little store:
Who looks unmov'd on misery makes it more. A.

XXII.

Leprosi ingrati. Luc. xvii.

Dum linquunt Christum, ah morbus! sanantur euntes:
Ipse etiam morbus sic medicina fuit.
At sani Christum, mens ah male-sana! relinquunt:
Ipsa etiam morbus sic medicina fuit.

The ungrateful lepers.

Whilst leaving Christ—ah, fell disease!—
They're healèd as they go:
Their malady their medicine is,
Because He will'd it so.
But healèd now—ah, mind diseas'd!—
They from the Lord depart:
Their healing their disease is now,
Bred in an ingrate heart. G.

XXIII.

Ne soliciti estote tu crastinum. Matt. vi. 34.

I, miser, inque tuas rape non tua tempora curas:
Et nondum natis perge perire malis.
Mi querulis satis una dies, satis angitur horis:
Una dies lacrymis mi satis uda suis.
Non mihi venturos vacat expectare dolores:
Nolo ego, nolo hodie crastinus esse miser.

Be ye not fretted about to-morrow.

Go, wretched mortal, antedate the day,
Fill thee with care;
Work thyself mis'ries, in a perverse way,
Before they're there.
Enough for me the day's cares in the day,
The passing hour;
Enough the tears that daily, yea or nay,
In sorrow low'r.
I have no leisure thus to antedate
The coming woe,
Nor to-day darken with to-morrow's fate;
And so I go. G.

ANOTHER VERSION.

Wretch, to thy woes add not
to-morrow morn;
And haste not thou to
groan with ills unborn.
Each day's laments, each
hour's griefs, me suffice;
Each morn, noon, eve, with
rueful weeping eyes.
No leisure is to look for
griefs to be:
Stir not to-day to-morrow's
pains in me. A.

XXIV.

A telonio Matthaeus. Matt. ix. 9.

Ah satis, ah nimis est: noli ultra ferre magistrum,
Et lucro domino turpia colla dare.
Jam fuge; jam, Matthaee, feri fuge regna tyranni:
Inque bonam, felix i fugitive,[48] crucem.

Matthew called from the receipt of custom.

Enough, too much; no more a master's yoke
Endure, nor bow to lordly Lucre's stroke:
His service from thy slavish neck is broke.

Flee, Matthew, flee the cruel tyrant's sway,
And hie thee, like a happy runaway,
To the sweet cross that waits for thee to-day. R. Wi.

XXV.

Viduae filius e feretro matri redditur. Luc. vii. 15.

En redeunt, lacrymasque breves nova gaudia pensant;
Bisque illa est, uno in pignore, facta parens.
Felix quae magis es nati per funera mater:
Amisisse, iterum cui peperisse fuit.

The dead son re-delivered to his mother.

Sweet restoration! by new joys outweigh'd,
Brief sorrow is exil'd,
And the lorn widow is a mother made
Twice in her only child.

O happy mother! then a mother most
When all her hopes seem'd vain:
Happy, who wept beside a dear son lost,
And found him born again. Cl.

XXVI.

Bonum intrare in coelos cum uno oculo, &c. Matt. xviii. 9.

Uno oculo? ah centum potius mihi, millia centum:
Nam quis ibi, in coelo, quis satis Argus erit?
Aut si oculus mihi tantum unus conceditur, unus
Iste oculus fiam totus et omnis ego.

It is better to go into heaven with one eye, &c.

One eye? a thousand rather, and a thousand more,
To fix those full-fac't glories. O, he's poore
Of eyes that has but Argus' store!
Yet, if thou'lt fill one poore eye with Thy Heaven and Thee,
O grant, sweet Goodnesse, that one eye may be
All and every whit of me. Cr.

ANOTHER VERSION.

With one eye! Ah! but rather to me give
A hundred or a hundred-thousand, Lord.
All Argus' eyes were no superlative
To view the glories Thy three heavens afford.

Or, O my God, if unto those who die,
It be Thy will only to give one eye,
Grant my whole body that one eye to be,
That thus I may forever gaze on Thee. G.