[A Latin poem by THOMAS OF CELANO (a Neapolitan village), about A. D. 1250. Perhaps no poem has been more frequently translated. A German collector published eighty-seven versions in German. Dr. Coles, of Newark, N. J., has made thirteen. Seven are given in the "Seven Great Hymns of the Mediæval Church," Randolph & Co., N. Y. The version here given preserves the measure of the original.] Mors stupebit, et natura, Quum resurget creatura, Judicanti responsura. Liber scriptus proferetur, In quo totum continetur, Unde mundus judicetur. Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet, apparebit : Nil inultum remanebit. Quid sum, miser! tunc dicturus, Rex tremendæ majestatis, Recordare, Jesu pie, Quærens me, sedisti lassus, Redemisti, crucem passus : Tantus labor non sit cassus ! Juste Judex ultionis, Donum fac remissionis Ante diem rationis ! Ingemisco tanquam reus, Qui Mariam absolvisti, Preces meæ non sunt dignæ, Inter oves locum præsta, Confutatis maledictis, Oro supplex et acclinis, Cor contritum quasi cinis, Gere curam mei finis! Lacrymosa dies illa, Qua resurget ex favillâ Judicandus homo reus ; Huic ergo parce, Deus! THOMAS A CELANO. Death and Nature, mazed, are quaking, On the written Volume's pages, Sits the Judge, the raised arraigning, What shall I then say, unfriended, King of majesty tremendous, Holy JESUS, meek, forbearing, Worn and weary, thou hast sought me ; By thy cross and passion bought me Spare the hope thy labors brought me ! Righteous Judge of retribution, As a guilty culprit groaning, Flushed my face, my errors owning, Hear, O God, my spirit's moaning! Thou to Mary gav'st remission, In my prayers no grace discerning, Give me, when thy sheep confiding When the wicked are confounded, Prostrate, all my guilt discerning, Day of weeping, when from ashes JOHN A. DIx. STABAT MATER DOLOROSA. [A Latin poem, written in the thirteenth century by JACOPONE, a Franciscan friar, of Umbria. Of this and the two preceding poems Dr. Neale says: "The De Contemptu is the most lovely, the Dies Ira the most sublime, and the Stabat Mater the most pathetic, of mediæval poems.”] STABAT Mater dolorosa Juxta crucem lacrymosa, Dum pendebat filius; Cujus animam gementem, Contristatam et dolentem, Pertransivit gladius. O quam tristis et afflicta, Mater unigeniti, Quæ mœrebat et dolebat, Pia mater, dum videbat Nati pœnas inclyti! Quis est homo qui non fleret, Christi matrem si videret In tanto supplicio ? Quis non posset contristari Piam matrem contemplari Dolentem cum filio? Pro peccatis suæ gentis, Dum emisit spiritum. Eia mater, fons amoris, Fac, ut tecum lugeam. Cordi meo valide. Tui nati vulnerati, Fac me vere tecum flere, Donec ego vixero; Juxta crucem tecum stare, Et tibi me sociare In planctu desidero. Virgo virginum præclara, Fac me tecum plangere ; STOOD the afflicted mother weeping, Near the cross her station keeping Whereon hung her Son and Lord; Through whose spirit sympathizing, Sorrowing and agonizing, Also passed the cruel sword. Oh! how mournful and distressèd Who the man, who, called a brother, For his people's sins atoning, Yield his spirit up to God. Make me feel thy sorrow's power, Holy mother, this be granted, That the slain one's wounds be planted Firmly in my heart to bide. Of him wounded, all astounded All the pangs with me divide. Make me weep with thee in union; With the Crucified, communion In his grief and suffering give; Near the cross, with tears unfailing, I would join thee in thy wailing Here as long as I shall live. Maid of maidens, all excelling! Make thou me a mourner too; Make me bear about Christ's dying, Share his passion, shame defying; All his wounds in me renew. |