[Jacopone da Todi, O vita de Iesù Cristo, “Laude”, LI, 13th century.]
O Life of Jesus Christ!
Mirror of Verity!
Mine own deformity
I see in that clear Light.
Somewhat, methought, I was;
Somewhat, methought, I seemed;
The Self of which I dreamed
I gladly did survey.
But gazing on that Glass,
The light thenceforth that streamed
On my true nature gleamed:—
Down in the depths it lay!
Needs must I weep and pray;
For, far as earth from skies,
Seeing from Being lies—
Distant as day from night.
And in that Looking-Glass
I saw myself indeed,
All cruelty and greed,
I read my nature clear.
I saw my faith revealed
A halting, doubting creed,
A hope, a guess indeed,
A vanity, a fear.
I saw my love appear
Corrupt, contaminate,
And, all around me, wait
Amazement and affright.
And in that Looking-Glass
My justice I behold;
A waste, a shame untold,
Virtue and kindness dead.
The innocent condemned,
God's honour bought and sold;
The wicked uncontrolled,
The good uncomforted—
Shame on my sinful head!
I held ill-doers dear,
And turned away in fear
From love and truth and right.
And looking in that Glass,
My prudence did I view
Senseless and useless too—
The folly of the brute.
For laws that God had made,
No reverence I knew;
I turned away to woo
The world, and world's repute.
I tore up reason's root;
From man's estate I turned,
For bestial life I burned,
Yea, worse than beast's my plight!
And looking in that Glass,
My temperance I saw,
Unreined by any law,
Lascivious and unwise.
I could not rule my heart
To modesty and awe;
Towards evil must I draw—
Look licence in the eyes.
In false discretion's guise,
Reason—to whom I knew
My loyalty was due—
I scorned and put to flight.
And looking in that Glass
I saw my fortitude:—
'Twere folly twice renewed
To say one word of it!
Far worse than words can tell,
Unfit for aught of good,
Infirm and poor, it stood,
My frailty infinite!
Once more I weeping sit,
Lamenting sins unknown,
Virtues all falsely shown,
Vice crouching out of sight.
O false esteem of self!
How couldst thou dare to bring,
As offerings to thy King,
These worthless works of thine?
Thy nature, all deformed,—
Ah, what an evil thing
To urge it, tottering,
Before that Light Divine!
These errors that are mine,
Must loose me from their sway;
Disorder must away,
Ere God with man unite.
Justice can never give
To men contaminate
That glorious realm and great
Where nothing base can grow.
So he who will not strive
To enter virtue's gate,
Would find the paths too strait
Where heavenly peoples go.
Not even Hell below
To his despair is kind;
Nor gladness will he find
In Heaven's radiance bright.
Lord, Thou hast shown me now,
In Thy fair holiness,
Mine utter nothingness;
Yea, less than nothing I!
And from this gazing springs
An eager humbleness;
Prisoned in wretchedness,
My will but lives to die.
My mind's humility
Is not made vile by ill,
But, loving virtue still,
Through vileness, gains Thy height.
I cannot be re-born
Till mine own self be dead;
My life out-poured, out-shed,
Sheer essence to renew:
On glorious Nothingness
He only can be fed,
Whom God Himself hath led;—
Here man hath naught to do.
O glorious state and true!
In Nothingness to cease,
Desire and mind at peace
In calmness infinite.
Ah! how my earth-bound thoughts
Are hideous and mean,
Beside those heights serene,
Where virtue's treasures be.
That Deep whereon I gaze,
I cannot swim therein,
I must be swallowed clean,
Like men who drown at sea.
Shoreless Infinity!
I sink in Thee, the Whole;
Thy fullness storms my soul,
Thou Sweetness and Thou Light!
