And now of late came tributary kings,

Bringing him nothing but new fears from th' East,

More deep suspicions, and more deadly stings, With which his feverous cares their cold increased;

And now his dream (Hell's firebrand), still

more bright,

Showed him his fears, and killed him with the sight.

LXIV

No sooner therefore shall the Morning see
(Night hangs yet heavy on the lids of Day),
But all the counsellors must summoned be
To meet their troubled lord: without delay
Heralds and messengers immediately

Are sent about, who posting every way
To th' heads and officers of every band,
Declare who sends, and what is his command.

LXV

Why art thou troubled, Herod? what vain fear Thy blood-revolving breast to rage doth move? Heaven's King, Who doffs Himself weak flesh to

wear,

Comes not to rule in wrath, but serve in love: Nor would He this thy feared crown from thee

tear,

But give thee a better with Himself above.

Poor jealousy! why should He wish to prey
Upon thy crown, Who gives His own away?

LXVI

Make to thy reason, man, and mock thy doubts; Look how below thy fears their causes are; Thou art a soldier, Herod; send thy scouts, See how He's furnished for so feared a war. What armour does He wear? a few thin clouts. His trumpets? tender cries.

So much? rude shepherds.

alas,

His men, to dare
What His steeds?

Poor beasts! a slow ox and a simple ass.

IL FINE DEL PRIMO LIBRO.

THE HYMN OF ST. THOMAS

IN ADORATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT
Ecce Panis Angelorum: Adoro Te

WITH

ITH all the powers my poor heart hath
Of humble love and loyal faith,

Thus low (my hidden life) I bow to Thee,

Whom too much love hath bow'd more low for me.
Down, down, proud Sense, discourses die,

Keep close, my soul's inquiring eye;
Nor Touch nor Taste must look for more,
But each sit still in his own door.

Your ports are all superfluous here,
Save that which lets in Faith, the ear.
Faith is my skill; Faith can believe
As fast as Love new laws can give.
Faith is my force: Faith strength affords
To keep pace with those pow'rful words.

1 Gates-doors.

And words more sure, more sweet than they,
Love could not think, Truth could not say.

O let Thy wretch find that relief Thou didst afford the faithful thief. Plead for me, Love! allege and show That Faith has farther here to go,

And less to lean on: because then

Though hid as God, wounds writ Thee man;
Thomas might touch, none but might see
At least the suffering side of Thee;

And that too was Thyself which Thee did cover,
But here ev'n that's hid too which hides the other.

Sweet, consider then, that I,
Though allowed nor hand nor eye
To reach at Thy loved face; nor can
Taste Thee God, or touch Thee Man,
Both yet believe, and witness Thee
My Lord too, and my God, as loud as he.

Help, Lord, my faith, my hope increase,
And fill my portion in Thy peace:

Give love for life; nor let my days

Grow, but in new powers to Thy Name and Praise.

O dear memorial of that Death

Which lives still, and allows us breath,

Rich, Royal Food, Bountiful Bread,

Whose use denies us to the dead;
Whose vital gust alone can give
The same leave both to eat and live.
Live ever, Bread of loves, and be
My life, my soul, my surer self to me.

O soft, self-wounding Pelican,1
Whose breast weeps balm for wounded man:
Ah, this way bend Thy benign flood
To a bleeding heart that gasps for blood.
That blood, whose least drops sovereign be
To wash my worlds of sins from me.

Come Love! come Lord! and that long day
For which I languish, come away.
When this dry soul those eyes shall see,
And drink the unseal'd source of Thee:
When Glory's sun, Faith's shades shall chase,
And for Thy veil give me Thy face. Amen.

LAUDA SION SALVATOREM

THE HYMN FOR THE BLESSED SACRAMENT

I

RISE, royal Sion! rise and sing

you can

Thy soul's kind Shepherd, thy heart's King. Stretch all thy powers; call if Harps of heaven to hands of man. This sovereign subject sits above The best ambition of thy love.

II

Lo, the Bread of Life, this day's
Triumphant text, provokes thy praise;
The Living and Life-giving Bread,
To the great twelve distributed;
When Life, Himself, at point to die
Of love, was His Own legacy.

1 An emblem of Christ: so used by Dante.

III

Come, Love and let us work a song
Loud and pleasant, sweet and long;
Let lips and hearts lift high the noise
Of so just and solemn joys,

Which on His white brows this bright day
Shall hence for ever bear away.

IV

Lo, the new law of a new Lord,
With a new Lamb blesses the board:
The aged Pascha pleads not years,
But spies Love's dawn, and disappears.
Types yield to truths; 1 shades shrink away;
And their Night dies into our Day.

V

But lest that die too, we are bid
Ever to do what He once did:
And by a mindful, mystic breath,
That we may live, revive His Death;
With a well-bless'd Bread and Wine,
Transumed, and taught to turn Divine.

VI

The Heaven-instructed house of Faith
Here a holy dictate hath,

That they but lend their form and face;
Themselves with reverence leave their place,

1 Cf. "Et antiquum documentum novo cedat ritui " of the "Tantum Ergo."

2 Changed, converted.