They said, This is of a truth that Prophet.
When Christ had given the multitude so much,
So many miracles to see, taste, touch;
Now Prophet, King, the holiest name Heaven wishes,
Was Christ: I'd rather call it 'Loaves and fishes.'
Whate'er Christ was, to their stay'd appetite
'Twas all more truly 'Loaves and fishes' dight. R. Wi.
CLXVI.
Christus ambulabat in porticu Salomonis, et hyems erat. Joan. x. 22.
Bruma fuit? non, non; ah, non fuit ore sub isto:
Si fuit, haud anni, nec sua bruma fuit.
Bruma tibi vernis velit ire decentior horis,
Per sibi non natas expatiata rosas.
At tibi ne possit se tam bene bruma negare,
Sola haec, quam vibrat gens tua, grando[83] vetat.
It was winter, and Jesus walked in Solomon's porch.
Was't winter? No, O no; beneath that Face:
At least no natural winter there found place.
Winter for Thee would breathe Spring's beauteous hours,
With roses crowd its unaccustom'd bowers.
But lest so sweetly Winter should retire,
Lo, this hail hinders, hurl'd by Jewish ire. R. Wi.
CLXVII.
Dederunt nummos militibus. Matt. xxviii. 12.