Rampolli | Page 7

seeks himself, poor restless wretch!--
I fall upon his bosom, tearful:?I once, like thee, with woe was wan;?But I grew well, am strong and cheerful,?And know the eternal rest of man.
Thou too must find the one consoler?Who inly loved, endured, and died--?Even for them that wrought his dolour?With thousand-fold rejoicing died.
He died--and yet, fresh each to-morrow,?His love and him thy heart doth hold;?Thou mayst, consoled for every sorrow,?Him in thy arms with ardour fold.
New blood shall from his heart be driven?Through thy dead bones like living wine;?And once thy heart to him is given,?Then is his heart for ever thine.
What thou didst lose, he keeps it for thee;?With him thy lost love thou shalt find;?And what his hand doth once restore thee,?That hand to thee will changeless bind.
IV.
Of the thousand hours me meeting,?And with gladsome promise greeting,?One alone hath kept its faith--?One wherein--ah, sorely grieved!--?In my heart I first perceived?Who for us did die the death.
All to dust my world was beaten;?As a worm had through them eaten?Withered in me bud and flower;?All my life had sought or cherished?In the grave had sunk and perished;?Pain sat in my ruined bower.
While I thus, in silence sighing,?Ever wept, on Death still crying,?Still to sad delusions tied,?All at once the night was cloven,?From my grave the stone was hoven,?And my inner doors thrown wide.
Whom I saw, and who the other,?Ask me not, or friend or brother!--?Sight seen once, and evermore!?Lone in all life's eves and morrows,?This hour only, like my sorrows,?Ever shines my eyes before.
V.
If I him but have,[1]?If he be but mine,?If my heart, hence to the grave,?Ne'er forgets his love divine--?Know I nought of sadness,?Feel I nought but worship, love, and gladness.
[Footnote 1: Here I found the double or feminine rhyme impossible without the loss of the far more precious simplicity of the original, which could be retained only by a literal translation.]
If I him but have,?Pleased from all I part;?Follow, on my pilgrim staff,?None but him, with honest heart;?Leave the rest, nought saying,?On broad, bright, and crowded highways straying.
If I him but have,
Glad to sleep I sink;?From his heart the flood he gave
Shall to mine be food and drink;?And, with sweet compelling,?Mine shall soften, deep throughout it welling.
If I him but have,
Mine the world I hail;?Happy, like a cherub grave
Holding back the Virgin's veil:?I, deep sunk in gazing,?Hear no more the Earth or its poor praising.
Where I have but him?Is my fatherland;?Every gift a precious gem?Come to me from his own hand!?Brothers long deplored,?Lo, in his disciples, all restored!
VI.
My faith to thee I break not,?If all should faithless be,?That gratitude forsake not?The world eternally.?For my sake Death did sting thee?With anguish keen and sore;?Therefore with joy I bring thee?This heart for evermore.
Oft weep I like a river?That thou art dead, and yet?So many of thine thee, Giver?Of life, life-long forget!?By love alone possessed,?Such great things thou hast done!?But thou art dead, O Blessed,?And no one thinks thereon!
Thou stand'st with love unshaken?Ever by every man;?And if by all forsaken,?Art still the faithful one.?Such love must win the wrestle;?At last thy love they'll see,?Weep bitterly, and nestle?Like children to thy knee.
Thou with thy love hast found me!?O do not let me go!?Keep me where thou hast bound me?Till one with thee I grow.?My brothers yet will waken,?One look to heaven will dart--?Then sink down, love-o'ertaken,?And fall upon thy heart.
VII.
HYMN.
Few understand?The mystery of Love,?Know insatiableness,?And thirst eternal.?Of the Last Supper?The divine meaning?Is to the earthly senses a riddle;?But he that ever?From warm, beloved lips,?Drew breath of life;?In whom the holy glow?Ever melted the heart in trembling waves;?Whose eye ever opened so?As to fathom?The bottomless deeps of heaven--?Will eat of his body?And drink of his blood?Everlastingly.?Who of the earthly body?Has divined the lofty sense??Who can say?That he understands the blood??One day all is body,?One body:?In heavenly blood?Swims the blissful two.
Oh that the ocean?Were even now flushing!?And in odorous flesh?The rock were upswelling!?Never endeth the sweet repast;?Never doth Love satisfy itself;?Never close enough, never enough its own,?Can it have the beloved!?By ever tenderer lips?Transformed, the Partaken?Goes deeper, grows nearer.?Pleasure more ardent?Thrills through the soul;?Thirstier and hungrier?Becomes the heart;?And so endureth Love's delight?From everlasting to everlasting.?Had the refraining?Tasted but once,?All had they left?To set themselves down with us?To the table of longing?Which will never be bare;?Then had they known Love's?Infinite fullness,?And commended the sustenance?Of body and blood.
VIII.
Weep I must--my heart runs over:?Would he once himself discover--?If but once, from far away!?Holy sorrow! still prevailing?Is my weeping, is my wailing:?Would that I were turned to clay!
Evermore I hear him crying?To his Father, see him dying:?Will this heart for ever beat!?Will my eyes in death close never??Weeping all into a river?Were a bliss for me too sweet!
Hear I none but me bewailing??Dies his name an echo failing??Is the world at once struck dead??Shall I from his eyes, ah! never?More