The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw - LightNovelsOnl.com
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XX.
_Tetigit linguam ejus, &c. ... et loquebatur ... et praecepit illis ne cui dicerent: illi vero eo magis praedicabant._ Marc. vii. 33, 36.
Christe, jubes muta ora loqui; muta ora loquuntur: Sana tacere jubes ora; nec illa tacent.
Si digito tunc usus eras, muta ora resolvens; Nonne opus est tota nunc tibi, Christe, manu?
_The dumbe healed, and the people enjoyned silence._
Christ bids the dumbe tongue speake; it speakes: the sound Hee charges to be quiet; it runs round.
If in the first He us'd His finger's touch, His hand's whole strength here could not be too much. CR.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Christ, the mute lips Thou bidst to speak; and lo, Straightway words flow: Thou mute wouldst have the speaking lips; but they Thee disobey.
If, then, a single finger Thou didst use Mute tongues to loose, Thy whole hand now we need; for old and young Have ceaseless tongue. G.
XXI.
_Sacerdos quidam descendens eadem via vidit, et praeteriit._ Luc. x. 32.
Spectasne, ah, placidisque oculis mea vulnera tractas?
O dolor! o nostris vulnera vulneribus!
Pax oris quam torva tui est! quam triste serenum!
Tranquillus miserum qui videt, ipse facit.
_And a certaine priest comming that way looked on him, and pa.s.sed by._
Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that pa.s.sest by, Handling and turning them with an unwounded eye?
The calm that cools thine eye does s.h.i.+pwrack mine; for O, Unmov'd to see one wretched is to make him so. CR.
ANOTHER RENDERING.
Dost look upon my wounds, serene-faced Priest?
Thy placid eyes give wounds more deep and sore.
O, thy calm stare avert! pa.s.s on, at least: They who see woe unmov'd cause it, and more. G.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Canst look, and by with look so tranquil pa.s.s, Nor heed my wounds? O, wounds on wounds, alas!
O peace, too grim! on it set little store: Who looks unmov'd on misery makes it more. A.
XXII.
_Leprosi ingrati._ Luc. xvii.
Dum linquunt Christum, ah morbus! sanantur euntes: Ipse etiam morbus sic medicina fuit.
At sani Christum, mens ah male-sana! relinquunt: Ipsa etiam morbus sic medicina fuit.
_The ungrateful lepers._
Whilst leaving Christ--ah, fell disease!-- They're healed as they go: Their malady their medicine is, Because He will'd it so.
But healed now--ah, mind diseas'd!-- They from the Lord depart: Their healing their disease is now, Bred in an ingrate heart. G.
XXIII.
_Ne soliciti estote tu crastinum._ Matt. vi. 34.
I, miser, inque tuas rape non tua tempora curas: Et nondum natis perge perire malis.
Mi querulis satis una dies, satis angitur horis: Una dies lacrymis mi satis uda suis.
Non mihi venturos vacat expectare dolores: Nolo ego, nolo hodie crastinus esse miser.
_Be ye not fretted about to-morrow._
Go, wretched mortal, antedate the day, Fill thee with care; Work thyself mis'ries, in a perverse way, Before they're there.
Enough for me the day's cares in the day, The pa.s.sing hour; Enough the tears that daily, yea or nay, In sorrow low'r.
I have no leisure thus to antedate The coming woe, Nor to-day darken with to-morrow's fate; And so I go. G.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Wretch, to thy woes add not to-morrow morn; And haste not thou to groan with ills unborn.
Each day's laments, each hour's griefs, me suffice; Each morn, noon, eve, with rueful weeping eyes.
No leisure is to look for griefs to be: Stir not to-day to-morrow's pains in me. A.
XXIV.
_A telonio Matthaeus._ Matt. ix. 9.
Ah satis, ah nimis est: noli ultra ferre magistrum, Et lucro domino turpia colla dare.
Jam fuge; jam, Matthaee, feri fuge regna tyranni: Inque bonam, felix i fugitive,[48] crucem.
_Matthew called from the receipt of custom._
Enough, too much; no more a master's yoke Endure, nor bow to lordly Lucre's stroke: His service from thy slavish neck is broke.
Flee, Matthew, flee the cruel tyrant's sway, And hie thee, like a happy runaway, To the sweet cross that waits for thee to-day. R. WI.
XXV.
_Viduae filius e feretro matri redditur._ Luc. vii. 15.
En redeunt, lacrymasque breves nova gaudia pensant; Bisque illa est, uno in pignore, facta parens.
Felix quae magis es nati per funera mater: Amisisse, iterum cui peperisse fuit.
_The dead son re-delivered to his mother._
