The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Stulte Cupido, Quid tua flamma parat?
Annos sole sub ipso Accensae pereunt faces?
Sed fax nostra potentior istis, Flammas inflammare potest, ipse uritur ignis, Ecce flammarum potens Majore sub flamma gemit.
Eheu, quid hoc est? En Apollo Lyra tacente, ni sonet dolores, Coma jacente squallet aeternus decor Oris, en, dominae quo placeat magis, Languido tardum jubar igne promit.
Pallente vultu territat aethera.
Mundi oculus lacrymis senescit, Et solvit pelago debita, quodque hauserat ignibus, His lacrymis rependit.
Noctis adventu properans se latebris recondit, Et opacas tenebrarum colit umbras, Namque suos odit d.a.m.nans radios nocensque lumen.
An lateat tenebris dubitat, an educat diem, Hinc suadet hoc luctus furens, inde repugnat amor.
TRANSLATION (_full_).
ON APOLLO PINING FOR DAPHNE.
Cupid, foolishest of pets, What woe thy swift-sent flame begets!
Surely before the flas.h.i.+ng Sun Torches pale to extinction?
But our torch is mightier far; It able is 'gainst fire to war, Yea, fire itself to burn and char.
The igni-potent in amaze, Lo, groans, his huge heart all a-blaze With keener flame than his own rays.
Ah, what is this? Apollo burns, And as distraught in anguish mourns.
Lo, see his lyre mute and unstrung, Or only grief-notes from it wrung: Lo, his golden locks neglected, And his radiant face dejected; Beauty eterne distain'd, rejected.
The great Sun-G.o.d is in love, And seeks in vain his Fair to move: Hence his weird pallor, and those cries That the sky shudd'ring terrifies; Hence the world's day-bringing eye Tears dim, such as in mortals' lie; Hence those showers often falling, The Sea her erst gifts recalling; Hence welcome the approaching night, That mourning he may veil his light-- Veil his light, and in shadows deep His great anguish in secret weep.
Nor, when vermeil-draped Morning, With her smile the East adorning, Touches with her rosy finger Eyes that 'neath their lashes linger, Seeking to wake the G.o.d of Day, That round the world his beams may play, Does he haste at all to rise To his 'fulgent throne i' the skies; But rather would abide within The clouds whereon he rests his chin; Hating his own beams' splendour now, Since Daphne scorns to list his vow: Thus he lingers, and still weighs Whether Day or Night to raise.
Raging grief he cannot smother, Says the one; and Love the other.
Cupid, tricksiest of pets, What woe thy swift-sent flame begets![99] G.
AENEAS PATRIS SUI BAJULUS.
Moenia Trojae, hostis et ignis, Hostes inter et ignes, Aeneas spolium pium Atque humeris venerabile pondus Excipit, et 'Saevae nunc o nunc parcite flammae; Parcite haud, clamat, mihi; Sacrae favete sarcinae: Quod si negatis, nec licebit Vitam juvare, sed juvabo funus Rogusque fiam patris ac bustum mei.'
His dictis, acies pervolat hostium, Gest.i.t, et partis veluti trophaeis Ducit triumphos. Nam furor hostium Jam stupet, et pietate tanta Victor vincitur; imo et moritur Troja libenter, funeribusque gaudet, Ac faces admitt.i.t ovans, ne lateat tenebras Per opacas opus ingens pietatis.
Debita sic patri solvis tua, sic pari rependis Officio. Dederat vitam tibi, tu reddis huic: Felix, parentis qui pater diceris esse tui.
TRANSLATION (_full_).
aeNEAS THE BEARER OF HIS FATHER.
The walls of Troy--the walls of Troy!
'Tis an old tale you will enjoy: A foe is there amid the fire, A foe 'twixt foemen in their ire.
Aeneas takes a pious load With upward prayer to his G.o.d; E'en his old father, whose gray head Lay 'mong the dying and the dead: O venerable spoil in truth, Fit from the demons to fetch ruth.
Fierce roar the flames, and fiercer still Rages the fight on plain and hill.
'Spare the old man,' Aeneas cries; 'Spare the white hairs; or if he dies, Be mine the privilege of his pyre; Be mine with him at once t'expire.'
Scarcely are the true words spoken, When through line of battle broken Swift he pa.s.ses; and this brave son His father bears in triumph on; Reck'ning that he a trophy has That the conquerors' doth surpa.s.s.
He safely goes: for, lo, amaz'd, The foe upon them wistful gaz'd: The conquerors the conquer'd are By filial love so strong, so fair.
The flames Troy willingly receives, Jubilant that the old man lives; Welcomes the torches, that the night May not conceal this deed of light.
All praise to thee, high-hearted son!
Thou an undying name hast won: The debt of love thou hast repaid Unto thy father, who is made Thy debtor now; for life he gave, And thou in turn his life dost save.
Happy the son whom thus we see Father of his own sire to be. G.
PHOENICIS GENETHLIACON ET EPICEDION.
Phnix alumna mortis, Quam mira tua puerpera!
Tu scandis haud nidos, sed ignes.
Non parere sed perire ceu parata: Mors obstetrix; atque ipsa tu teipsam paris, Tu tuique mater ipsa es, Tu tuique filia.
Tu sic odora messis Surgis tuorum funerum; Tibique per tuam ruinam Reparata, te succedis ipsa. Mors o Faecunda; sancta o lucra pretiosae necis!
Vive, monstrum dulce, vive, Tu tibique suffice.
TRANSLATION.
OF THE GENERATION AND REGENERATION OF THE PHNIX.
Phnix, nursling of Death, How wondrous is thy birth!
Thou gainest not thy breath I' nest, like birds of Earth: 'Mid fire all flaming hot Thou strangely art begot; The leaping flames thee cherish When thou seem'st to perish.
Lo, Death thy midwife is; Lo, thyself thou bearest.
O tell me how is this, That mystery thou preparest?
Thou mother of thyself!
Thou daughter of thyself!
When thy 'pointed hour is done, Thou an od'rous nest entwinest; And, as for thy destruction, Thou 'midst its fires reclinest.
Most surely thou'rt consum'd; Most surely thou'rt relum'd.
O fruitful Death!
O gainful Death!
Live then, self-contained bird; Most pleasing wonder.
The old legend is absurd; But truth lies under. G.
EPITAPHIUM.
Quisquis nectareo serenus aevo Et spe lucidus aureae juventae, Nescis purpureos abire soles, Nescis vincula ferreamque noctem Imi careris horridumque Ditem, 5 Et spectas tremulam procul senectam, Hinc disces lacrymas, et huc repones.
Hic, o scilicet hic brevi sub antro Spes et gaudia mille, mille, longam, Heu longam nimis! induere noctem. 10 Flammantem nitidae facem juventae Submersit Stygiae paludis unda.
Ergo, si lacrymas neges doloris, Huc certo lacrymas feres timoris.
NOTE.
I correct, in l. 6, 'tremulam' for 'tremulum;' l. 7, 'disces' for 'discas,' and 'huc' for 'hinc.' G.
TRANSLATION.
EPITAPH.
Ye that still, serene in peace, Lying in the lap of ease, Believe the hopes of golden youth, And have not heard the bitter truth, How s.h.i.+ning suns fade at a breath; Ye, with little dread of death, Or fear of chains and iron night Of man's last prison, or the sight Of gloomy Dis; that think to keep Old age away,--look here, and weep.
Here, to this one narrow room, A thousand joys and hopes have come; Here bright minutes many a one Have a lasting night put on: Youth's torch, that flash'd such light about, Is in the Stygian wave put out.
Then, if you grudge poor grief a tear, Heave, at least, a sigh for fear. A.
