The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw Volume II Part 20

LVI.

_In cicatrices quas Christus habet in se adhuc superst.i.tes._ Joan. xx.

Quicquid spina procax, vel stylo clavus acuto, Quicquid purpurea scripserat hasta nota, Vivit adhuc tec.u.m; sed jam tua vulnera non sunt: Non, sed vulneribus sunt medicina meis.

_On the still-surviving markes of our Saviour's wounds._

Whatever story of their crueltie, Or naile, or thorne, or speare have writ in Thee, Are in another sence Still legible; Sweet is the difference: Once I did spell Every red letter A wound of Thine; Now, what is better, Balsome for mine. CR.

ANOTHER RENDERING.

Each b.l.o.o.d.y, cruel character, Thorn, nail, and spear had written, When here, as man's great Arbiter, On Calvary Thou wert smitten, Thou wearest still above, O Lord: But now no longer wounds they are; According to Thy Holy Word, They med'cine for my wounds declare. G.

LVII.

_Aeger implorat umbram D. Petri._ Act. v. 15.

Petre, tua lateam paulisper, Petre, sub umbra: Sic mea me quaerent fata, nec invenient.

Umbra dabit tua posse meum me cernere solem; Et mea lux umbrae sic erit umbra tuae.

_The sick implore St. Peter's shadow._

Under thy shadow may I lurke awhile, Death's busie search I'le easily beguile: Thy shadow, Peter, must show me the sun; My light's thy shadowe's shadow, or 'tis done. CR.

ANOTHER RENDERING.

O Peter, Peter, let thy shadow fall Where I in wretchedness a-weary crawl: Here vainly shall my fates upon me call.

Thy shadow me shall guide unto my sun-- Whoe'er sought Him in truth, and was undone?-- And so my light, thy shadow, shall be one. G.

LVIII.

_Quid turbati estis? Videte ma.n.u.s meas et pedes, quia ego ipse sum._ Luc. xxiv. 39.

En me et signa mei, quondam mea vulnera: certe, Vos nisi credetis, vulnera sunt et adhuc.

O nunc ergo fidem sanent mea vulnera vestram: O mea nunc sanet vulnera vestra fides.

_Why are ye troubled?... Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I myself._

'Tis I; behold My proofs, My wounds of old; Wounds which still bleed, if you will not believe.

O, now to heal your faith My wounds behold, And healing from your faith My wounds receive.

LIX.

_In vincula Petro sponte delapsa, et apertas fores._ Act. xii. 7, 10.

Ferri non meminit ferrum: se vincula Petro Dissimulant: nescit carcer habere fores.

Quam bene liber erit, carcer quem liberat! ipsa Vincula quem solvunt, quam bene tutus erit!

_The chains spontaneously fell from Peter, and the (prison)-doors opened._

Iron forgets 'tis iron; the chains dissemble too; Nor has the prison doors for Peter now.

Free truly is that pris'ner who by the prison's freed; Whom chains themselves unbind free is indeed.

LX.

_Deferebantur a corpore ejus sudaria, &c._ Act. xix. 12.

Imperiosa premunt morbos, et ferrea fati Jura ligant, Pauli lintea tacta manu.

Unde haec felicis laus est et gloria lini?

Haec, reor, e Lachesis pensa fuere colo.

_From his body there were brought unto the sick handkerchiefs, &c._

They quell disease, and sway Fate's iron bands, These lordly linen cloths touched by Paul's hands.

Whence rose the glory of their happy fame?

From the Fates' distaff, sure, these kerchiefs came. R. WI.

LXI.

_Christus vitis ad vinitorem Patrem._ Joan. xv. 1-6.

En serpit tua, purpureo tua palmite vitis Serpit, et, ah, spretis it per humum foliis.

Tu viti succurre tuae, mi Vinitor ingens: Da fulcrum; fulcrum da mihi: quale? crucem.

_Christ the Vine to the Vinedresser-Father._

Lo, Thy vine trails, trails with a purple shoot, Scatt'ring its leaves before it beareth fruit.

Succour Thy vine, great Vinedresser, from loss: Support, support me, Lord: how? With Thy cross. G.

LXII.

_Pene persuades mihi ut fiam Christia.n.u.s._ Act. xxvi. 28.

Pene? quid hoc pene est? Vicinia saeva salutis!

O quam tu malus es proximitate boni!

Ah, portu qui teste perit, bis naufragus ille est; Hunc non tam pelagus, quam sua terra premit.

Quae n.o.bis spes vix absunt, crudelius absunt: Pene sui felix, emphasis est miseri.

_Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian._

_Almost?_ What word is this we hear?

O doubly lost, with heaven so near!

To perish in the neighbourhood Of vast but unavailing good!