The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw Volume II Part 52

But mark, this Love that brings Faith joy Is not blind Cupid. Ah, bright Boy, Begone; thou shalt not, wouldst thou, stay; Go, get thee swift from light o' day; Go, get thee now to the vast shades, And there indulge thy escapades: Thou in Elysian realms mayst reign A fitting deity, not vain: Go therefore, and with thee thy bow And quiver. Well it is below That these for thee shall form a pyre, To which thy torch will furnish fire.

But, ah, thou hast a heart of stone, Who wouldest make Faith live alone, Loos'ning the sweet ties Love has found To bind Faith to her, herself bound.

O, it is cruel thus to sever Sisters whom G.o.d hath joined ever; Whose clasped hands so closely cling, E'en as vine-tendrils ring on ring: You may not tell there's more than one, So absolute the union.

Where shall you find beneath the sky Two differing so variously, And yet each life in other bound, Touch one, the other you shall wound: Or where, 'mid all the pairs on earth, Twins through marriage or through birth, Shall you find two so truly one?

Arms twining in affection, They clasp each other, chin to chin, Above, below, without, within, Embracing and embrac'd by turns; Yet not with such wild-fire as burns In l.u.s.t's hot touch, and clasp and grasp Eager and stinging as tongue of asp.

Not so closely interwine The graceful Elm and clinging Vine, When to bosom of the tree Bacchus' cl.u.s.ters prest you see, And the Nymph the fruit receives, And hides it amid dewy leaves; Ev'n as the poets tell of old, In legends of the Age of Gold.

Faith and Love know no such flame, Their pure twining brings no shame; Look for taint, you'll find it missing: 'Tis as flower flower kissing; Or twin-roses dewy dripping, And twin-bees their honey sipping.

The Turtle-dove, robb'd of her mate, Pines and mourns disconsolate; Yet still lives on in widow'd grief, Knowing at times Hope's sweet relief.

But Faith when once of Love bereft Loses her all, has nothing left; Nor mourns nor frets nor pales--she's dead, Struck to the heart astonied.

The Palm that by the wintry blast Sees her companion-tree downcast, Whose mighty shadow o'er her threw Protection when the fierce storm blew; Her umbrage sheds, and quivering Seeks that some fav'ring wind would bring Her branches with his boughs to mingle, Since she is left in sadness, single; Wretched, she wears and wastes away, Leaf following leaf in wan decay, Until at last, naked and bare, She s.h.i.+vers in the piercing air; And when the Spring comes, Winter sped, 'Tis vain to call her--she is dead!

But when Love from Faith is gone, Faith lingers not still on and on; That while her form yet meets your eye, You can p.r.o.nounce 'She'll surely die.'

SHE'S DEAD i' the instant: or you will Maintain a stark corpse liveth still, Whose soul has pa.s.s'd beyond the sky, Sunder'd until the last great Cry.

Faith is the body, Love the soul; Take Love from it, you take the whole: Now, now indeed thy Faith's alone, But being alone, lo, it is none.

To make it clear, turn Homer's page That paints Achilles' hate and rage, When, having mighty Hector slain, He dragg'd him dead over the plain-- That Hector whom the chariot feels Dragg'd helpless, lifeless at its wheels, Was it the same who, with proud crest, That chariot's lord had lately prest, Eager the victory to wrest?

Hercules' name and deeds dost see In ta's b.l.o.o.d.y tragedy, When dead the mighty hero lay, Of jealousy the poison'd prey.

His living strength the lion slew, And hide Nemaean round him threw: 'Gainst more than lion-rage of Death Dost summon the sad corpse of Faith?

Sure Love with love for Faith will burn, While Faith herself trusts Love in turn.

THEREFORE:

That Faith alone, lording it high, Which Hope despairs of, and with cry Of anguish Love can never love, Is not the Faith sent from Above: The Faith that thus would be alone, What is't to us--desolate, lone?

Faith then, that loved will not love Nor hope--may no such Faith me move!

But ever in my bosom lie Faith, Hope, and Love in trinity: Yea, Love himself shall Faith's best lover prove, And Faith confirm his strongest faith in Love. G.

BAPTISMUS NON TOLLIT FUTURA PECCATA.

Quisquis es ille tener modo quem tua mater[93] Achilles In Stygis aethereae provida tinxit aquis, Sa.n.u.s, sed non securus dimitteris illinc: In nova non tutus vulnera vivis adhuc.

Mille patent aditus; et plus quam calce petendus 5 Ad nigri metues spicula mille dei.

Quod si est vera salus, veterem meminisse salutem; Si nempe hoc vere est esse, fuisse pium; Illa tibi veteres navis quae vicerat Austros, Si manet in mediis usque superstes aquis; 10 Ac dum tu miseros in littore visis amicos, Et peccatorum triste sodalitium, Illa tibi interea tutis trahet otia velis, Expectans donec tu rediisse queas: Quin igitur da vina, puer; da vivere vitae; 15 Mitte suum senibus, mitte supercilium; Donemus timide, o socii, sua frigora brumae: Aeternae teneant hic nova regna rosae.

Ah, non tam tetricos sic eluctabimur Euros; Effractam non est sic revocare ratem. 20 Has undas aliis decet ergo extinguere in undis; Naufragium hoc alio immergere naufragio: Possit ut ille malis oculus modo naufragus undis, Jam lacrymis melius naufragus esse suis.

TRANSLATION.

BAPTISM CANCELS NOT AFTER-SINS.

O young Achilles, whom a mother's care Hath dipp'd as in a sacred Stygian wave; Whole, but yet not secure, thou hence dost fare, For there are wounds from which it will not save.

A thousand ways of entrance open lie For evil; not alone against thy heel The prince of darkness in his rage lets-fly The thousand arrows thou mayst dread to feel.

But if remember'd health may still have given True health, and to have been is still to be, Thou seem'st as one whose bark, by storms unriven, Still rides, as yet unconquer'd, on the sea; And, while on sh.o.r.e thy friends thou visitest, And the sad company of them that sin, With furled sails upon the waves at rest, Thy bark floats idly till thou art within.

But if for this thou criest overbold, 'Bring wine! enjoy the moment as it goes; Leave to old age its cares; dismiss the cold, While in new realms for ever reigns the rose!'

Ah, know that not in revels such as these Learn we to struggle with the spiteful gale; Nor thus can hope to rescue from rough seas The broken cable and the driven sail.

These waves must in another wave be wash'd, This s.h.i.+pwreck in another s.h.i.+pwreck drown'd; The eye in such ill storms so vilely dashed, A happier wreck in its own tears be found. CL.

Latin Poems.

PART FIRST. SACRED.

IV.

NEVER BEFORE PRINTED.

NOTE.

The Sancroft MS., as before, furnishes the following hitherto unprinted longer Poems, which I place under SACRED, as being throughout in subject and treatment such. The Rev. RICHARD WILTON, M.A., as before, has at once the praise and responsibility of the translations in the whole of this section. G.

PSALMUS I.

O te te nimis et nimis beatum, Quem non lubricus implicavit error; Nec risu misero procax tumultus.

Tu c.u.m grex sacer undique execrandis Strident consiliis, nec aure felix; Felix non animo, vel ore mixtus, Haud intelligis impios susurros.

Sed tu deliciis ferox repostis Cultu simplice, sobriaque cura Legem numinis usque et usque volvis.

Laeta sic fidas colit arbor undas, Quem immiti violentus aura Seirius frangit, neque contumacis.

NOTE.

This fragment of a Latin rendering of the first Psalm may be compared with BUCHANAN'S, but, I fear, not to its advantage. It were superfluous to give a translation of it; but see the parallel which follows. G.

IRA PROCELLAE.

At tu, profane pulvis, et lusus sacer Cujusvis aurae; fronte qua tandem feres Vindex tribunal? quanta tum, et qualis tuae Moles procellae stabit? O quam ferreo Frangere nutu, praeda frontis asperae, Sacrique fulminandus ah procul, procul A luce vultus, aureis procul a locis, Ubi longa gremio mulcet aeterno pios.

Sincera semper pax, et umbrosa super Insurgit ala, vividique nectaris Imbres beatos rore perpetuo pluit.

Sic ille, sic, o vindice, stat vigil, Et stabit ira torvus in impios, Seseque sub mentes bonorum Insinuat facili favore.

TRANSLATION.

THE WRATH OF THE JUDGMENT-WHIRLWIND.

But thou, O dust profane, and of each air The plaything doom'd, with what face wilt thou bear The Judgment-throne? how huge a stormy cloud Will lower upon thee! how wilt thou be bow'd With iron nod, the prey of frowning Face, By thunder to be driven far off, apace, From light of sacred Countenance! afar From golden regions, where the righteous are, Sooth'd in pure Peace's lap eterne, whose wing Towers high above them, overshadowing; While happy showers of nectar sweet imbue Their lips, as with an everlasting dew.

The wicked so His watchful ire will learn, And cower 'neath G.o.d's avenging countenance stern; The righteous so His love divine will feel With gentle lapse into their bosom steal. R. WI.

CHRISTE, VENI.

Ergo veni; quicunque ferant tua signa timores, Quae nos cunque vocant tristia, Christe, veni.

Christe, veni; suus avulsum rapiat labor axem, Nec sinat implicitas ire redire vias; Mutuus attonito t.i.tubet sub foedere mundus, Nec natura vagum dissona volvat opus.

Christe, veni; roseos ultra remeare per ortus Nolit, et ambiguos Sol trahat aeger equos.

Christe, veni; ipsa suas patiatur Cynthia noctes, Plus quam Thessalico tincta tremore genas; Astrorum mala caesaries per inane dolendum Gaudeat, horribili flore repexa caput; Sole sub invito subitae vis improba noctis Corripiat solitam, non sua jura, diem; Importuna dies, nec Eoi conscia pacti, Per desolatae murmura noctis eat.

Christe, veni; tonet Ocea.n.u.s pater, et sua nolit Claustra vagi montes sub nova sceptra meent.

Christe, veni; quodcunque audet metus, audeat ultra Fata id agant, quod agant; tu modo, Christe, veni.

Christe, veni; quacunque venis mercede malorum.