The Hymns of Prudentius Part 3

Quae veterum tuba, quaeve lyra flatibus inc.l.i.ta vel fidibus divitis omnipotentis opus, quaeque fruenda patent homini laudibus aequiparare queat? 85

Te Pater optime mane novo, solis et orbita c.u.m media est, te quoque luce sub occidua sumere c.u.m monet hora cib.u.m, nostra Deus canet harmonia. 90

Quod calet halitus interior, corde quod abdita vena tremit, pulsat et incita quod resonam lingua sub ore latens caveam, laus superi Patris esto mihi. 95

Nos igitur tua sancte ma.n.u.s caespite conposuit madido effigiem meditata suam, utque foret rata materies flavit et indidit ore animam. 100

Tunc per amoena vireta iubet frondicomis habitare locis, ver ubi perpetuum redolet prataque multicolora latex quadrifluo celer amne rigat. 105

Haec tibi nunc famulentur, ait, usibus omnia dedo tuis: sed tamen aspera mortifero stipite carpere poma veto, qui medio viret in nemore. 110

Hic draco perfidus indocile virginis inlicit ingenium, ut socium malesuada virum mandere cogeret ex vet.i.tis ipsa pari peritura modo. 115

Corpora mutua--nosse nefas-- post epulas inoperta vident, lubricus error et erubuit: tegmina suta parant foliis, dedecus ut pudor occuleret. 120

Conscia culpa Deum pavitans sede pia procul exigitur.

innuba fernina quae fuerat, coniugis excipit inperium, foedera tristia iussa pati. 125

Auctor et ipse doli coluber plect.i.tur inprobus, ut mulier colla trilinguia calce terat: sic coluber muliebre solum suspicit atque virum mulier. 130

His ducibus vitiosa dehinc posteritas ruit in facinus, dumque rudes imitatur avos, fasque nefasque simul glomerans inpia crimina morte luit. 135

Ecce venit nova progenies, aethere proditus alter h.o.m.o, non luteus, velut ille prior: sed Deus ipse gerens hominem, corporeisque carens vitiis. 140

Fit caro vivida sermo Patris, numine quam rutilante gravis non thalamo, neque iure tori, nec genialibus inlecebris intemerata puella parit. 145

Hoc odium vetus illud erat, hoc erat aspidis atque hominis digladiabile discidium, quod modo cernua femineis vipera proteritur pedibus. 150

Edere namque Deum merita omnia virgo venena domat: tractibus anguis inexplicitis virus inerme piger revomit, gramine concolor in viridi. 155

Quae feritas modo non trepidat, territa de grege candidulo?

inpavidas lupus inter oves tristis obambulat et rabidum sanguinis inmemor os cohibet. 160

Agnus enim vice mirifica ecce leonibus inperitat: exagitansque truces aquilas per vaga nubila, perque notos sidere lapsa columba fugat. 165

Tu mihi Christe columba potens, sanguine pasta cui cedit avis, tu niveus per ovile tuum agnus hiare lupum prohibes, sub iuga tigridis ora premens. 170

Da locuples Deus hoc famulis rite precantibus, ut tenui membra cibo recreata levent, neu piger inmodicis dapibus viscera tenta gravet stomachus. 175

Haustus amarus abesto procul, ne libeat tetigisse manu exitiale quid aut vet.i.tum: gustus et ipse modum teneat, sospitet ut iecur incolume. 180

Sit satis anguibus horrificis, liba quod inpia corporibus ah miseram peperere necem, sufficiat semel ob facinus plasma Dei potuisse mori. 185

Oris opus, vigor igneolus non moritur, quia flante Deo conpositus superoque fluens de solio Patris artificis vim liquidae rationis habet. 190

Viscera mortua quin etiam post obitum reparare datur, eque suis iterum tumulis prisca renascitur effigies pulvereo coeunte situ. 195

Credo equidem, neque vana fides, corpora vivere more animae: nam modo corporeum memini de Phlegethonte gradu facili ad superos remea.s.se Deum. 200

Spes eadem mea membra manet, quae redolentia funereo iussa quiescere sarcophago dux parili redivivus humo ignea Christus ad astra vocat. 205

III. HYMN BEFORE MEAT

Blest Cross-bearer, Source of good, Light-creating, Word-begot, Gracious child of maidenhood, Bosomed in the Fatherhood, When earth, sea and stars were not.

With Thy cloudless, healing gaze s.h.i.+ne upon me from above: Let Thine all-enlightening rays Bless this meal and quicken praise, Praise unto Thy name of Love.

Lord, without Thee nought is sweet, Nought my life can satisfy, If Thy favour make not meet What I drink and what I eat; Let faith all things sanctify!

O'er this bread G.o.d's grace be poured, Christ's sweet fragrance fill the bowl!

Rule my converse, Triune Lord, Sober thought and sportive word, All my acts and all my soul.

Spoils of rose-trees are not spent, Nor rich unguents on my board: But ambrosial sweets are sent, Of faith's nectar redolent, From the bosom of my Lord.

Scorn, my Muse, light ivy-leaves Wherewith custom wreathed thy brow: Love a mystic crown conceives And a rhythmic garland weaves: Bind on thee G.o.d's praises now.

What more worthy gift can I, Child of light and aether, bring Than for boons the Maker high From His bounty doth supply Lovingly my thanks to sing?

He hath set 'neath our command All that ever rose to be, All that sky and sea and land Breed in air, in glebe and sand, Made my slaves, His own made me.

Fowler's craft with gin and net Feathered tribes of heaven ensnares: Osier twigs with lime o'erset That their airy flight may let His relentless guile prepares.

Lo! with woven mesh the seine Swimming shoals draws from the wave: Nor do fish the bait disdain Till they feel the barb's swift pain, Captives of the food they crave.

Native wealth that knows no fail, Golden wheat springs from the field: Tendrils lush o'er vineyards trail, Nursed of Peace the olives pale Berries green unbidden yield.

Christ's grace fills His people's need With these mercies ever fresh: Far from us be that foul greed, Gluttony that loves to feed On slain oxen's bloodstained flesh.

Leave to the barbarian brood Banquet of the slaughtered beast: Ours the homely, garden food, Greenstuff manifold and good And the lentils' harmless feast.

Foaming milkpails bubble o'er With the udders' snowy stream, Which in thickening churns we pour Or in wicker baskets store, As the cheese is pressed from cream.

Honey's nectar for our use From the new-made comb is shed: Which the skilful bee imbues With thyme's scent and airy dews, Plying lonely toils unwed.

Orchard-groves now mellowed o'er Bounteously their fruitage shed: See! like rain on forest floor Shaken trees their riches pour, High-heaped apples, ripe and red.

What great trumpet voice or lyre Famed of yore could fitly praise Gifts of the Almighty Sire, Blessings that His own require, Richly lavished through their days?

When morn breaks upon our sight, Hymns, O Lord, to Thee shall ring: Thee, when streams the midday light, Thee, when shadows of the night Bid us sup, our voices sing.

For my body's vital heat, For my heart-blood's pulsing vein, For my tongue and speech complete Unto Thee, Most High, 'tis meet That I raise my grateful strain.

'Twas, O Holy One, Thy care Wrought us from the plastic clay, Made us Thine own image bear, And for our perfection fair Did Thy Breath to man convey.

On the twain Thou didst bestow Leafy bowers in pleasaunce fair: Where spring's scents for aye did blow, And four stately streams did flow O'er meads pied with blossoms rare.