XVII.

O hear a suppliant heart, all crushed
And crumbled into contrite dust.

My hope, my fear! my Judge, my Friend!
Take charge of me, and of my end.

IX.

TRANSLATION OF "CHRISTE, VENI,"
BY REV. R. WILTON, M.A.

EVEN SO COME, LORD JESUS.

O come; whatever fears Thy standards carry,
Or sorrows summon us, Lord, do not tarry.

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Come, Lord; though labouring heaven whirl from its place, And its perplexèd paths no more can trace;

Though sympathising earth astonied reel,

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And nature jarrèd cease its round to wheel.

Come, Lord; though sun refuse with rosy beam
To rise, and sickly drives a doubtful team.

Come, Lord; though moon look more aghast at night
Than when her cheeks with panic fear are white;
Though ominous comets through the dolorous air
Hurtle, and round their brow dread fire-wreaths wear;
Though spite of struggling sun Night's sudden sway
Impious and lawless seize the accustom'd day;
Mistimèd Day, mindless of eastern glow,
Through moanings of forsaken Night should go.
Come, Lord; though father Ocean roars and lowers,
That his mov'd mountain-bars own other powers.
Come, Lord; whate'er Fear dares, e'en let it dare;
Let Fates do what they will, be Thou but there.
Come, Lord; with whate'er recompense of ill,
Whate'er Thy coming cost, O come, Lord, still.
Thee and Thine eyes, O what 'twill be to see!
Thee to enjoy e'en so, what will that be!

Let come what will, do Thou, Lord, only come.

ΙΟ

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X.

ST. MARY MAGDALENE, OR THE WEEPER.

Lo! where a wounded heart with bleeding eyes conspire.
Is she a flaming fountain, or a weeping fire?

THE WEEPER.

I.

HAIL, sister springs!
Parents of silver-footed rills!
Ever bubbling things!

Thawing crystal! snowy hills
Still spending, never spent! I mean
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene!

II.

Heavens thy fair eyes be;
Heavens of ever-falling stars.

'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;
For they but seem to fall,
As Heaven's other spangles do :

It is not for our Earth and us
To shine in things so precious.

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ΙΟ

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IV.

Upwards thou dost weep:

Heaven's bosom drinks the gentle stream.
Where th' milky rivers creep,

Thine floats above, and is the cream.
Waters above th' heavens, what they be
We are taught best by thy tears and thee.

V.

Every morn from hence,

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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.

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VIII.

Not the soft gold which

Steals from the amber-weeping tree,
Makes Sorrow half so rich

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.

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XII.

There's no need at all,

That the balsam-sweating bough
So coyly should let fall

His med'cinable tears; for now
Nature hath learn'd to extract a dew

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,
Balsam may be for their own grief.

XIV.

Golden though he be,

Golden Tagus murmurs though.
Were his way by thee,

Content and quiet he would go;

So much more rich would he esteem
Thy silver, than his golden stream.

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.

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