“Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionum,
Cogit omnes ante thronum,”
but the imitation falls little short of the original. Dr. Johnson characteristically passes this ode over in silence—perhaps because of his opinion that sacred poetry was a contradiction in terms. His great namesake, and in some respects curious antitype, was more generous to another poem we shall quote—Father Southwell’s “Burning Babe.” “So he had written it,” he told Drummond, “he would have been content to destroy many of his.”
“As I, in hoary winter’s night, stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty Babe all burning bright did in the air appear,
Who, scorchéd with exceeding heat, such floods of tears did shed
As though his floods should quench his flames with what his tears were fed;