Classic Poem

TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN OF FLORENTIUS VOLUSENUS, SCOTUS,
IN HIS DIALOGUE " DE ANIMI TRANQUILLITATE."

Why do I, O most gracious God!
So heavily complain?
And at thy providence most just,
Why do I thus repine?

Since by reflecting I perceive,
And certainly do know,
That I, my wretched self alone,
Am cause of all my woe.

Who wittingly do strive in vain,
From darkness light to bring;
And life and solid joys expect
Under Death's awful reign.

As bitter wormwood never doth
Delicious honey yield,
Nor can the cheerful grape be reap'd
From thistles in the field;

So who, in this uncertain life,
Deceitful joys pursue,
They fruits do seek upon such trees
On which it never grew.

That fading beauty men admire,
Of person, and of face;
That splendor of rich ornament,
Which stately buildings grace;

That train of noble ancestors,
Which gives illustrious birth,
Wealth luxury: then add to these
All the delights on earth:

Yea, whatsoever object doth
Invite our wandering sight,
And whatsoe'er our touch doth feel
With pleasure and delight,

They all, like despicable dust
And atoms, fly away;
And are mere dreams of the short night,
Which we have here to stay.

That which is past is nothing sure,
And what of joy to come
Impatiently we want; when got,
Is quickly past and gone:

And when 'tis past, like other things,
It nothing will be thought;
Should then that dream which nothing is,
So anxiously be sought!

Go now, go fool, to catch the wind!
Prepare thy nets to bind;
Which thing no man but he that's mad
Did ever yet pretend.

See if thou canst thy shadow grasp,
Which no man yet could find;
It flies the more the more that thou
To follow art inclin'd.

That which will leave thee 'gainst thy will
Thou freely shouldst forsake;
And wisely choose these better things
Which none from thee can take.

What comfort can that mortal have
Who earth's whole wealth ingrost,
If, after this short span of life,
His soul's for ever lost?

With how much wiser conduct he
His course of life doth steer,
Who by his pious endeavours
Of doing good whilst here;

And by an holy, humble life,
When he shall hence remove,
Secures a passage for himself
Into the heavens above.

Meanwhile, wouldst thou a small taste have
Of real happiness?
And whilst thou on this earth doth dwell,
Some pleasant days possess?

Lay down all fears and anxious cares;
To things within thy power
Confine thy wish; and make thy will
Strict reason's laws endure.

If thou affection do transgress
The bounds by reason plac'd,
In noise and trouble thou shalt live,
Both wretched and disgrac'd.

If thou wouldst perfect peace enjoy,
Thy heart see thou apply
To know Christ, and him crucified;
This is the only way.

How happy is that man, who doth
This blessed peace attain!
He all the joys on earth, besides,
Will know to be but vain.

He doth not set his heart on wealth,
The care of worldly men,
But strives to do that which is good,
And heaven's reward to gain.

He flies the fond delights which we
So ardently affect;
Shuns them as crosses, and as things
Which contemplations check.

What we for greatest blessings take,
He wholly doth disdain:
And counts all things but loss and dung,
That Christ's love he might gain.

What other men do grievous think,
He calmly can endure;
He knows none truly can rejoice,
Whose right in Christ's not sure.

He on the cross of Christ alone
His wondering thoughts employs,
Where in his death he hidden sees
Life and eternal joys.

Thus he can honey from the rocks,
And oil draw from hard stones;
A gift to few, and seldom given,
By Heaven, amongst men's sons.

'Tis he alone long life deserves,
And his years sweetly pass,
Who holds that treasure in his breast,
Whose worth doth all surpass.

What can he want of outward things,
Who hath this pearl of price,
Which we should buy at any rate,
And all things else despise?

Woe's me! how much do other men
In seas of trouble live,
Whose ruin oft and endless cares,
Ev'n things they wish do give!

'Tis he alone in earnest can
Wish for his dying day;
All mankind's terrors, yea, with tears
Expostulate its stay.

O! would to God my soul just now
Were rais'd to such a frame,
As freely to part hence, which soon
Must be, though I reclaim.

This present flies, another life
Is swiftly hasting on,
The way that leads to which, is through
The cross of Christ alone.

How canst thou, without grief and tears,
Think on these impious wounds,
Which thou didst cause, through which to thee
Salvation free rebounds?

Thou, who shun'st all fatigue, and gives
Thyself to soft delight,
With what assurance canst thou crave
What is the labourer's right?

If a strict life thou canst not reach,
At least let him not see
Thee much unlike himself, with whom
Thou wouldst partaker be.

That which resembles most the sun
We truly may call bright;
And what is most like to the snow,
Will whitest be to sight.

These things are sweet which in their taste
With honey may compare,
And these are swift which can contend
With the light flying air;

So, sure, the more thou art like Christ,
More perfect thou'rt indeed;
For, of all true perfection, he
Both pattern is, and head.

Who are persuaded of this truth,
When sore affliction grieve,
This comfort have, that, ev'n in this,
They more like Christ do live.

Men of this stamp are very scarce,
Whose virtue doth them bear
Above the vulgar; for what's great,
Difficult is, and rare.

But we to mind salvation's work
Will never be advis'd;
And that all things are vanity,
Till death hath us surpris'd:

Then to reflect we first begin,
And our past lives abhor,
And all these empty joys which we
So much admir'd before.

Then under terrors we would fly
To Christ, the only rock
Of life; whom in prosperity
We never did invoke.

The fear which can no merit have
Drives us to' implore his grace;
So great his mercy, that in vain
We ne'er shall seek his face.

But yet we ought, without delay,
Examine our estate;
And saving interest get in Christ,
Far better soon than late.

If any other way we seek
Our passions to oppose,
Or get tranquillity of mind,
We time and labour lose.