The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw Volume II Part 55

TRANSLATION.

MARTYRS.

Good speed ye made, in sooth, good speed, ye blest, And by a shorter course won heavenly rest; Over a narrow sea of your own blood Death's bark has borne you, by few gales withstood: While with slow oars we toil the sh.o.r.e to gain, Through boisterous fury of the boundless main.

_We_ waste with lingering, indolent decay; We are Death's pastime and his wanton play; O'er time and age and wide waves we are blown, Expos'd to furies and to chances thrown.

Wretched in full are we, perish at length; Fates seek us out, and try on us their strength.

We are Fate's skill, Evils' ambition fine, Death's utmost effort and deep-plann'd design.

In a long life wide field for Death there lies; In a short life grand deeds may daze men's eyes.[96]

By years we live we reckon not our life; Our life is short, with great deeds be it rife.

To spend long years, let not long life be thought; A long-liv'd deed oft in short life is wrought.

G.o.d not so much contracted your life's s.p.a.ce, As order'd Death the sooner to give place.

What earth's life loses, gains the life on high: By how much sooner, so much less we die. R. WI.

SPES.

Spes diva, salve! diva avidam tuo Necessitatem numine prorogans, Vindicta fortunae furentis, Una salus mediis ruinis.

Regina quamvis, tu solium facis Depressa parvi tecta tugurii; Surgit jacentes inter; illic Firma magis tua regna constant.

Cantus catenis, carmina carcere, Dolore ab ipso gaudiaque exprimis: Scintilla tu vivis sub imo Pectoris, haud metuens procellas.

Tu regna servis, copia pauperi, Victis triumphus, littora naufrago, Ipsisque d.a.m.natis patrona, Anchora sub medio profundo.

Quin ipse alumnus sum tuus, ubere Pendens ab isto, et hinc animam traho.

O Diva nutrix, o foventes Pande sinus, sitiens laboro.

TRANSLATION.

HOPE.

Hail, G.o.ddess Hope!

Who Fate remorseless movest Far off, and canst with raging Fortune cope; 'Mid ruin thou our sole salvation provest.

A mighty queen, Thy throne on roof-trees lowly And prostrate souls is fix'd, and there are seen The firm foundations of thy kingdom holy.

A gladsome hymn From fetters disengaging, And joy from grief, thou liv'st in bosom dim, A spark that laughs at tempests wildly raging.

A crown to slaves; Abundance to the needy; To s.h.i.+pwreck'd men a refuge from the waves; To conquer'd and condemn'd deliverance speedy.

An 'Anchor sure,'

The eternal Rock thou graspest, The strain of ocean 'stedfast' to endure; And Heaven's calm joys 'within the veil' thou claspest.

Nay, I thy child, Dependent here adore thee: From thee I draw my life, O Mother mild; Open thy fostering bosom, I implore thee. R. WI.

??S ??? ??? S??F???? S??F????.

Ecce tuos lapides! nihil est pretiosius illis; Seu pretium capiti dent, capiantve tuo.

Scilicet haec ratio vestri diadematis: hoc est, Unde coronatis vos decet ire comis.

Quisque lapis quanto magis in se vilis habetur, Ditior hoc capiti est gemma futura tuo.

Haec est, quae sacra didicit florere figura, Non nisi per lacrymas charta videnda tuas.

Scilicet ah dices, haec c.u.m spectaveris ora, Ora sacer sic, o sic tulit ille pater.

Sperabis solitas illinc, pia fulmina, voces; Sanctaque tam dulci mella venire via.

Sic erat illa, suas Famae c.u.m traderet alas, Ad calamum, dices, sic erat illa ma.n.u.s.

Tale erat et pectus, celsae domus ardua mentis, Tale suo plenum sidere pectus erat.

O bene fallacis mendacia pulchra tabellae, Et qui tam simili vivit in aere, labor!

c.u.m tu tot chartis vitam, Pater alme, dedisti, Haec merito vitam charta dat una tibi.

TRANSLATION.

ON STEPHEN'S CROWN.

[This poem seems only intelligible by our supposing that a double reference is intended; first, and faintly, to St. Stephen the proto-martyr; and mainly to Stephens (Stepha.n.u.s), father and son, Robert and Henry, the great scholars, commentators, printers, and publishers of the sixteenth century, whose books would always be in Crashaw's hands. Stephens, father and son, suffered persecution, banishment, poverty, and excommunication alike from Protestants and Catholics, while engaged in bringing out the Bible, Greek Testament, and numerous Cla.s.sic Authors. 'In two years Henry revised and published more than 4000 pages of Greek text.' In the latter years of his life, being driven from Geneva (as it is alleged) by the 'petty surveillance and censors.h.i.+p of the pious pastors there, he wandered in poverty over Europe, his own family often ignorant where he was to be found.']

Behold thy stones! more precious nought is seen, Whether they deck with precious rays serene Thy head, or from it take a precious glow.

This is your style of diadem; e'en so With crowned locks 'tis seemly ye should go: The viler in itself each stone may seem, A richer gem upon thy head will gleam.

Behold the Book where, seen through mist of tears, A sacred form in manhood's bloom appears.

Ah, you will say, when you behold this face, Such looks, O such, our father us'd to grace.

The accustom'd sounds you hope for--holy thunder, And the blest honey hid that sweet tongue under: So, o'er his pen, you say, that hand was bent, When her own wings to fetter'd Fame he lent.

Such was that breast, his spirit's lofty dwelling-- That breast with its own starry thoughts high swelling.

O pleasing fantasies of picture fair, And kindred forms which laboured bra.s.s may bear!

Since through thee, Sire, such countless writings live, Life unto thee let this one writing give. R. WI.

EXPOSTULATIO JESU CHRISTI

c.u.m MUNDO INGRATO.

Sum pulcher: at nemo tamem me diligit.

Sum n.o.bilis: nemo est mihi qui serviat.

Sum dives: a me nemo quicquam postulat.

Et cuncta possum: nemo me tamen timet.

Aeternus exsto: quaeror a paucissimis.

Prudensque sum: sed me quis est qui consulit?

Et sum Via: at per me quotusquisque ambulat?

Sum Veritas: quare mihi non creditur?

Sum Vita: verum rarus est qui me pet.i.t.

Sum Vera Lux: videre me nemo cupit.

Sum misericors: nullus fidem in me collocat.

Tu, si peris, non id mihi imputes, h.o.m.o: Salus tibi est a me parata: hac utere.[97]

TRANSLATION.

JESUS CHRIST'S EXPOSTULATION

WITH AN UNGRATEFUL WORLD.

I am all-fair, yet no one loveth Me: n.o.ble, yet no one would My servant be: Rich, yet no suppliant at My gate appears: Almighty, yet before Me no one fears: Eternal, I by very few am sought: Wise am I, yet My counsel goes for nought: I am the Way, yet by Me walks scarce one: The Truth, why am I not relied upon?

The Life, yet seldom one My help requires: The True Light, yet to see Me none desires: And I am merciful, yet none is known To place his confidence in Me alone.

Man, if thou perish, 'tis that thou dost choose it; Salvation I have wrought for thee, O use it! R. WI.