XVII. O hear a suppliant heart, all crushed My hope, my fear! my Judge, my Friend! IX. TRANSLATION OF "CHRISTE, VENI," EVEN SO COME, LORD JESUS. O come; whatever fears Thy standards carry, 65 Come, Lord; though labouring heaven whirl from its place, And its perplexèd paths no more can trace; Though sympathising earth astonied reel, 5 And nature jarrèd cease its round to wheel. Come, Lord; though sun refuse with rosy beam Come, Lord; though moon look more aghast at night Let come what will, do Thou, Lord, only come. ΙΟ 15 20 25 X. ST. MARY MAGDALENE, OR THE WEEPER. Lo! where a wounded heart with bleeding eyes conspire. THE WEEPER. I. HAIL, sister springs! Thawing crystal! snowy hills II. Heavens thy fair eyes be; 'Tis seed-time still with thee; And stars thou sow'st, whose harvest dares Promise the Earth, to countershine Whatever makes heaven's forehead fine. III. But we are deceived all: Stars indeed they are too true; It is not for our Earth and us 5 ΙΟ .15 IV. Upwards thou dost weep: Heaven's bosom drinks the gentle stream. Thine floats above, and is the cream. V. Every morn from hence, 20 25 A brisk cherub something sips, Whose sacred influence Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips; Then to his music; and his song Tastes of this breakfast all day long. 30 VIII. Not the soft gold which Steals from the amber-weeping tree, As the drops distill'd from thee. Sorrow's best jewels lie in these Caskets, of which Heaven keeps the keys. IX. When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest majesty: (For she is a Queen): Then is she dress'd by none but thee. Then, and only then, she wears Her proudest pearls: I mean, thy tears, X. 45 50 XII. There's no need at all, That the balsam-sweating bough His med'cinable tears; for now More sovereign and sweet, from you. XIII. Yet let the poor drops weep, (Weeping is the ease of Woe): Softly let them creep, Sad that they are vanquish'd so. They, though to others no relief, XIV. Golden though he be, Golden Tagus murmurs though. Content and quiet he would go; So much more rich would he esteem XV. Well does the May that lies Smiling in thy cheeks, confess The April in thine eyes; Mutual sweetness they express. No April e'er lent kinder showers, Nor May returned more faithful flowers. 70 75 80 85 90 |