Englands Antiphon | Page 3

these relations yet

is--slowly setting men free. In the hardest winter the roots are still alive
in the frozen ground.
In the silence of the monastery, unnatural as that life was, germinated
much of this deeper life. As we must not judge of the life of the nation
by its kings and mighty men, so we must not judge of the life in the
Church by those who are called Rabbi. The very notion of the kingdom
of heaven implies a secret growth, secret from no affectation of
mystery, but because its goings-on are in the depths of the human
nature where it holds communion with the Divine. In the Church, as in
society, we often find that that which shows itself uppermost is but the
froth, a sign, it may be, of life beneath, but in itself worthless. When
the man arises with a servant's heart and a ruler's brain, then is the
summer of the Church's content. But whether the men who wrote the
following songs moved in some shining orbit of rank, or only knelt in
some dim chapel, and walked in some pale cloister, we cannot tell, for
they have left no name behind them.
My reader will observe that there is little of theory and much of love in
these lyrics. The recognition of a living Master is far more than any
notions about him. In the worship of him a thousand truths are working,
unknown and yet active, which, embodied in theory, and dissociated
from the living mind that was in Christ, will as certainly breed worms
as any omer of hoarded manna. Holding the skirt of his garment in one
hand, we shall in the other hold the key to all the treasures of wisdom
and knowledge.
I think almost all the earliest religious poetry is about him and his
mother. Their longing after his humanity made them idolize his mother.
If we forget that only through his humanity can we approach his
divinity, we shall soon forget likewise that his mother is blessed among
women.
I take the poems from one of the Percy Society publications, edited by
Mr. Wright from a manuscript in the British Museum. He adjudges
them to the reign of Edward I. Perhaps we may find in them a sign or
two that in cultivating our intellect we have in some measure neglected
our heart.

But first as to the mode in which I present them to my readers: I have
followed these rules:--
0. Wherever a word differs from the modern word only in spelling, I
have, for the sake of readier comprehension, substituted the
modern form, with the following exception:--Where the spelling
indicates a different pronunciation, necessary for the rhyme or the
measure, I retain such part of the older form, marking with an
acute accent any vowel now silent which must be sounded.
0. Where the word used is antique in root, I give the modern synonym in
the margin. Antique phrases I explain in foot-notes.
It must be borne in mind that our modern pronunciation can hardly fail
in other cases as well to injure the melody of the verses.
The modern reader will often find it difficult to get a rhythm out of
some of them. This may arise from any of several causes. In the first
place many final _e_'s were then sounded which are now silent; and it
is not easy to tell which of them to sound. Again, some words were
pronounced as dissyllables which we treat as monosyllables, and others
as monosyllables which we treat as dissyllables. I suspect besides, that
some of the old writers were content to allow a prolonged syllable to
stand for two short ones, a mode not without great beauty when
sparingly and judiciously employed. Short supernumerary syllables
were likewise allowed considerable freedom to come and go. A good
deal must, however, be put down to the carelessness and presumption
of the transcribers, who may very well have been incapable of detecting
their own blunders. One of these ancient mechanics of literature caused
Chaucer endless annoyance with his corruptions, as a humorous little
poem, the last in his works, sufficiently indicates. From the same
sources no doubt spring as well most of the variations of text in the
manuscripts.
The first of the poems is chiefly a conversation between the Lord on the
cross and his mother standing at its foot. A few prefatory remarks in
explanation of some of its allusions will help my readers to enjoy it.
It was at one time a common belief, and the notion has not yet, I think,
altogether vanished, that the dying are held back from repose by the

love that is unwilling to yield them up. Hence, in the third stanza, the
Lord prays his mother to let