Joan. vi. 14, 26.
Jam credunt, Deus es: Deus est, qui teste palato,
Quique ipso demum est judice dente Deus.
Scilicet haec sapiunt miracula: de quibus alvus
Proficere, et possit pingue latus fluere.
Haec sua fecisti populo miracula credunt.
Gens pia, et in ventrem relligiosa suum!
The miracle of the loaves.
Now truly they believe that Thou art God!—
God witnessèd by palate and by tooth!—
They know the smack of miracles that load
And swell their paunches; yea, believe, forsooth.
To a most pious race, Lord, Thou appealest,
And stomachs most believing Thou revealest. G.
III.
In lacrymas Christi patientis.
Saeve dolor! potes hoc? oculos quoque perpluis istos?
O quam non meritas haec arat unda genas!
O lacrymas ego flere tuas, ego dignior istud,
Quod tibi cunque cadit roris, habere meum.
Siccine? me tibi flere tuas! ah, mi bone Jesu,
Si possem lacrymas vel mihi flere meas!
Flere meas? immo immo tuas, hoc si modo possem:
Non possem lacrymas, non ego flere meas.
Flere tuas est flere meas, tua lacryma, Christe,
Est mea vel lacryma est si tua, causa mea est.
Of the tears of the suffering Christ.
O cruel Pain! I ask thee how
Thou canst do what thou'rt doing now?
Dost thou also—or is't my fears?—
Drench His sweet eyes with scalding tears?
O how that show'r furrows amain
His undeserving cheek, as rain!
More meet it were that I should know
The tears that from His anguish flow:
More meet it were that I should feel
All dews that down His wan cheek steal:
O is it thus? Would that it were!
That I might weep Thy laden tear:
Yea, blessèd Jesus, would that I
For mine own self could weeping lie:
Mine own tears weep? nay, they are Thine,
For all Thy tears, alas, are mine.
Ah, not a tear that Thou didst shed,
When sorrow bow'd Thy sacred head,
But came of human woe or guilt,
For which at last Thy Blood was spilt;
And even if the tears were Thine,
Being for my sake, they're rather mine. G.