The Pharisees insidiously watching the words of Christ.
O self-baffl'd Pharisee,
Vainly dost thou weary thee,
Hoping at His holy mouth
To catch other than the Truth:
Stainless, holy, pure is He,
Guileless as Simplicity.
Who would e'er expect black Night
In the bosom of the Light,
When the young sun in splendour burns,
And the dawn to roses turns?
Who, again, would seek to mark
Acheron plunging i' the dark,
Where white Cynthia's starry steeds
Lave them by the glitt'ring meads?
Who would aconite think to get
From the fragrant violet?
Or, watching by the babbling rill
Gushing in pureness from the hill,
Think thence poison to distil?
In fine, instance nearer thee—
Would any ever hope to see
Aught of good in Pharisee? G.
XLVIII.
Matt. ix. 20.
Falleris, et nudum male ponis, pictor, Amorem;
Non nudum facis hunc, cum sine veste facis.
Nonne hic est, dum sic digito patet ille fideli,
Tunc cum vestitus, tunc quoque nudus Amor?
Touched the hem of His garment.
Erringly, painter, thou portrayst Love bare:
Not bare you make him, though no clothes he wear.
Here, while laid open to believing hand,
Though clothed indeed, bare truly see Him stand. R. Wi.
XLIX.
Tolle oculos, tolle, ô tecum tua sydera nostros.
Ah quid enim, quid agant hic sine sole suo?
Id quod agant sine sole suo tua sydera, coelum:
Id terrae haec agerent hic sine sole suo.
Illa suo sine sole suis caeca imbribus essent:
Caeca suis lacrymis haec sine sole suo.
The departing Saviour.