I have the hope within me To comfort and to bless! Shall I ever win the prize itself? Oh, tell me, tell me, Yes! Exult, O dust and ashes! The Lord shall be thy part; His only, His for ever, Thou shalt be, and thou art! Exult, O dust and ashes! The Lord shall be thy part; His only, His for ever, Thou shalt be, and thou art! BERNARD OF CLUNY. (Translation of JOHN MASON NEALE.) FOR THE BAPTIST. last and greatest herald of heaven's King, Girt with rough skins, hies to the desert wild, Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, Which he than man more harmless found, and mild: His food was locasts, and what young doth spring, With honey that from virgin hills distilled; Parched body, hollow eyes, sole uncouth thing Made him appear long since from earth exiled. There burst he forth; "All ye, whose hopes rely On God, with me amidst these deserts Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus, Cuneta stricte discussurus. Tuba mirum spargens sonum Per sepulcra regionum, Coget omnes ante thronum. 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, 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, Culpâ rubet vultus meus, Supplicanti parce, Deus! Qui Mariam absolvisti, Preces meæ non sunt dignæ, Sed Tu bonus fac benigne Ne perenni cremer igne! Inter oves locum præsta, Et ab hædis me sequestra, Statuens in parte dextrâ. Confutatis maledictis, Flammis acribus addictis, Voca me cum benedictis! Oro supplex et acclinis, Lacrymosa dies illâ ! THOMAS DE CELANO. DIES IRE. TRANSLATION OF WILLIAM J. IRONS. Oh what fear man's bosom rendeth Wondrous sound the Trumpet flingeth, Death is struck, and Nature quaking, To its Judge an answer making! Lo, the Book, exactly worded! When the Judge His seat attaineth, What shall I, frail man, be pleading, King of Majesty tremendous, Think! kind Jesu, my salvation Faint and weary Thou hast sought me, Righteous Judge of retribution, Guilty, now I pour my moaning, Thou the sinful woman savedst, Thou the dying thief forgavest; And to me a hope vouchsafest ! Worthless are my prayers and sighing, Yet, good Lord, in grace complying, Rescue me from fires undying! With Thy favor'd sheep, oh place me! While the wicked are confounded, Low I kneel with heart submission; Ah! that Day of tears and mourning! From the dust of earth returning, Man for judgment must prepare him; Spare, O God, in mercy spare him! Lord, who didst our souls redeem, Grant a blessed Requiem! Amen. DIES IRE. PARAPHRASE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. THAT day of wrath, that dreadful day, When, shrivelling like a parchèd scroll, |