[Jacopone da Todi, O novo canto, “Laude”, LXIV, 13th century.]
O New Song, of heavenly strain,
Man's lamenting Thou hast slain,
Raised him from his misery.
In a piercing major key,
Yet with soft timidity,
Sweetest singing charms the ear;
Now ensues a minor strain,
Gently floating down again,
Sweeter still, and still more clear.
Such a descant, pure and keen,
Never sure was heard or seen,
So divine in harmony.
And the Singers, glad and fair,
Making in the wintry air,
Strains so sweet, and so sonorous,
—Ah, the blessed Angels they,
Chanting thus in parts their lay,
Singing in a varied chorus,
To the Babe, th' Incarnate Word;
And the little Babe hath heard,
Lovely in His Infancy.
Music fills the midnight sky
"Glory be to God on high!"
Say the voices resonant.
"And on earth there shall be peace,
"Strife shall die and wars shall cease,
All the world be jubilant!"
Then together let us sing,
Laud and honour to our King,
Christ, adored and blest is He.
On an earthly parchment writ
Is this music infinite,
Blazoned firm, and fair, and clear.
We who stand on earth-bound feet,
We may claim this music sweet,
If we listen, we may hear.
God's own hand the scroll hath given,
For He writes the notes in heaven,
Teacheth us the melody.—
There, where Love the heart hath stirred,
There that singing shall be heard,
Faith shall hear it and shall know.
For God's great Divinity,
In its wondrous Majesty,
Is incarnate here below.
Hence comes Hope, both fair and true,
Lifts our hearts to God anew,
Gives us courage joyously.
He that enters at this door,
He shall hear for evermore,
Songs of love within his heart:
To God's image he aspires,
Of the Beauty he desires,
He shall now become a part.
Like the heavenly seraphim,
Love shall flame so high in him,
He shall gain divinity.
Hark! the first nocturn is given
To the valiant troop from heaven,
To the noble martyr band:
Stephen singing at their head,
Risen from his stony bed,
And his comrades round him stand.
Jesus Christ their life doth give,
Grafted in His Stem they live,
Red Pomegranate flower is He.
The Confessors following,
Do the second noctura sing,
On their voices it is borne;
And the great Evangelist,
He must be their rhapsodist,
For His words their notes adorn,
Treble notes, and clearer far
This their strain, than others are,—
Rare it is in harmony.
Next the Innocents are heard,
For their nocturn is the third;
Sweetly do they take their part.
They around the Holy Child,
Ages-long have knelt and smiled,
Sweet companions for His Heart.
"Christ is born," their voices say;
"Jesus Christ is born to-day,
Praise, O God, we sing to Thee!"
O ye sinners, erring throng,
Serving evil lords so long,
Come and hail this Infant Birth!
Come, and make a joyful sound;
God with Man henceforth is found,
He is come to dwell on earth.
As a Little Boy He's here;
Long-desired, we hold Him dear;
Very precious shall He be.
Erring men, on evil bent,
He hath called you to repent,
Come to Him in penitence.
Penitence your hearts shall stay,
Driving every sin away,
Purging heart, and soul, and sense.
Verily the humble mind
Penitent, the truth shall find,
Blessedness and piety.
Humble men, and innocent,
Upright men, and diligent,
Come before Him, come and sing.
Let Him not in vain entreat,
Come and kneel before His feet,
Giving glory to your King.
Ye shall have your hearts' desire,
Tasting, with the heavenly choir,
Feasts of Love eternally.
