English

THE FIRST BOOK

Orleans was hush'd in sleep. Stretch'd on her couch
The delegated Maiden lay; with toil
Exhausted, and sore anguish, soon she closed
Her heavy eyelids; not reposing then,
For busy phantasy in other scenes
Awaken'd: whether that superior powers,
By wise permission, prompt the midnight dream,
Instructing best the passive faculty;
Or that the soul, escaped its fleshly clog,
Flies free, and soars amid the invisible world,
And all things are that seem .

What will there be to remember
Of us in the days to be —
Whose fate was a trodden ember
And even our doubt not free?
Parliaments built of paper,
And the soft swords of gold
That twist like a waxen taper
In the weak aggressor's hold.
A hush around Hunger slaying,
A city of serfs unfed —
What shall we leave for saying
To praise us when we are dead?

Adapted from the Vita Nuova of Dante

What Mary is when she a little smiles
I cannot even tell or call to mind,
It is a miracle so new, so rare.

My Soule (still faint in doing well : and strong
in working ill ) now, now thyselfe retire
From outward Cares: or else amidst their throng
poure out thy Sorrowes to thy heau'nly Sire .

Thy scatter'd thoughts (in Fancies lewd, as light)
gather together; and with all thy Pow'rs ,
(Vnited) shew thy sinne and cursed plight:
sith meeke Confession, grace for sinne procures.

Weighing my deeds , I finde too light they be;

Vile Flesh , why dost thou so my Spirit impugne,
That still the Sonne of Righteousnesse I wrong
who di'd to make you liue?
No Moment breathe I, but I breathe out Sinne
That ends with shame , where Sorrow doth beginne ,
which makes me glad to grieue .

In thee fraile Flesh , I feele my bloud to boyle
With heate of such desires as make the Soile
but Sinne , in graine to beare
My Spirits (that in that Bloud doe swim with paine,
Yet floate they, sith false pleasures them sustaine)

The Way to Heau'n (that truest Port of Peace )
is straite and straight vntill at Hell we be:
Where, on the right hand then, we turne with ease ,
for, when we passe that Point; then, well are wee.

But, being straite , but few that Way doe wend;
and being straight , the crooked misse it still:
Then, to this Port , but few their course doe bend.
sith most are crooked; euer bent to Ill .

As when a Master hath most mortall Foes ,
his Seruants , and men made by him, will be
Most persecuting Enemies to those ,
till with their Lord and Master they agree.

So, all thy Creatures (Lord) doe rise in Armes
against great Sinners (if impenitent)
To plague them with all kinde of killing harmes ,
till they be ruin'd quite, or made repent.

But being one with Thee, our Enemies

Kisse me, ├┤ kisse me, with Loues honyed Kisse ,
├┤ dearest Loue, and sweet'st-Heart of my Soule:
Whose loue is like pure Wine that cordiall is;
& doth sowre eares, with Comforts sweet, controle.

Thy Name is like so sweet suffused Balme :
which makes chast Soules eu'n sick for loue of thee:
Whose Passions (striuing in a blessed calme
on Sorrowes Seas) to thee still rowling be.

Drawe me (deare Loue) then, after thee Ile runne

L ord , in thy Loue, let me be none of them
that loue but in a Calme; a time beleeue;
But when a Storme ariseth, doe blaspheme;
and with infernall Sp'rits , thy Sp'rit doe grieue.

Thus what I need , I craue ; but what I feare
thou know'st (deare Lord:) I feare I am too bold
To seeke thy loue , because I doe appeare
no correspondence with thy loue to hold:

For, he that merits hate (Lord) how can he

Deare Lord , when sinfull thoughts doe me assaile
to thy deare Wounds then let me hye with speed;
When burning lust against my thoughts preuaile,
quench it, by minding me how long they bleede!

In all Extreames I finde no Meane so good
as thy wide Wounds to keepe my Soule still whole:
They cannot dye that drown'd are in thy bloud;
for, that is Aqua vitae to the Soule!

Thy Death is my desert ; then doe I not