XXXI.
Cum tot signa edidisset, non credebant. Joan. xii. 37.
Quanta amor ille tuus se cunque levaverit ala,
Quo tua cunque opere effloruit alta manus;
Mundus adest, contraque tonat, signisque reponit
Signa, adeo sua sunt numina vel sceleri,
Imo, ô nec nimii vis sit temeraria verbi,
Ille uno sensu vel tua cuncta premit.
Tot tantisque tuis mirac'lum hoc objicit unum,
Tot tantisque tuis non adhibere fidem.
Though they beheld so many miracles, they believed not.
However high in Thy great love Thou wingest,
And whatsoe'er within Thy hand Thou bringest,
Against Thee, with its thunders, stands the world,
Sign answering sign; Sin's banners all unfurl'd.
Nay—and let not the bold rash word appal—
One thought o' the world makes all Thy wonders fall:
Against Thy mightiest signs this one it wields—
To the vast whole of Thine, no faith it yields. G.
XXXII.
In nubem, quae Dominum abstulit. Act. i. 9.
O nigra haec! quid enim mihi candida pectora monstrat,
Pectora cygneis candidiora genis?
Sit vero magis alba, suo magis aurea Phoebo,
Quantumcunque sibi candida; nigra mihi est.
Nigra mihi nubes! et qua neque nigrior Austros,
Vel tulit irati nuntia tela Dei.
Nigra! licet nimbos, noctem neque detulit ullam.
Si noctem non fert, at rapit, ecce, diem.
On the cloud which received the Lord.
O, this black cloud! a white breast does it show—
A breast more white than a swan's neck of snow?
More bright than golden sunshine let it be!
However fair itself, 'tis black to me.
From blacker cloud ne'er issu'd stormy blast,
Nor thunderbolts of angry heaven were cast.
Black! though no showers or shadows round it play;
If Night it bring not, yet it takes our Day. R. Wi.