[Jacopone da Todi, Oi dolze amore, “Laude”, LXIX, 13th century.]
O Gentle Love,
Who died for Love,
I pray Thee, slay me for Love!
Love, Who didst lead
To death indeed,
Thy Lover upon the Cross,
O tell me why
Thy Dear must die?
—'Twas to redeem my loss.
Then try me by fire,
For 'tis all my desire
To die in the arms of Love.
If Thou didst not spare
Thy Beloved there;
How should I escape from Thee?
Thy Love hath took
Me with an hook,
Thy fish from out of the sea:
Then spare me not,
For 'tis all my thought
To perish, immersed in Love.
The Cross hath lifted
Love, Heaven-gifted,
Never to let it go:
And the Cross shall take me,
Lift me, break me,
For all the world to know.
If I shrink and flee,
My name shall be
Blotted out from the Book of Love.
To the Cross I sprang,
On the Cross to hang
To taste true life as I die:
How sweet is thy breath,
O honied Death!
For thee I long and I sigh.
Mine ardent soul
Would pay its toll,
And perish, heart-rent by Love.
Lo! the world shall heed:
On the Cross I read
This scroll that in blood is writ
That giveth to me
God's own degree
In philosophy, science and wit:
And each golden line
Bears God's own sign,
Emblazoned and bordered with Love.
O Love of the Lamb!
O Ocean calm!
Of thy depths what tongue can tell?
In Thee am I drowned,
For Above and Around,
Thy fathomless waters well!
And the straightest road,
To the Heart of God,
Is the Swirl and the Folly of Love.
