Cantus ad Sextam
The Cry of the Soul at Sext
The soul, crying 'Oci, oci,' weeps under its earthly sojourn and gazes on the suffering Lamb, finding its composure undone by the Passion.
“Oci, oci,” the soul cries out in this state, again and again shedding tears under this earthly sojourn, praising and glorifying with great effort Christ, who bore so much for its guilt.1 At this hour the soul seems drunk with love; but around midday, when the heat grows stronger so that she may be more deeply pierced by love's goads, she soon recounts the Passion of Christ. So weeping, she looks on the tender Lamb—the Lamb without blemish, crowned with thorns, bruised by the scourges, pierced by the nails, and bloodied in so many places by the wound in his side.✦ Then the devout mind cries out with lamentations: Oci! Oci, oci—how wretched I am!2 Because the pale face of the dying One unsettles the composure of my mind, and so do the failing eyes of the One hanging on the Cross.
The Signs of Love
The soul questions the meaning of Christ's death, recognizes it as a sign of love that joins highest to lowest, and resolves to recall these signs to resist sin.
Was this what was fitting for you, she says — that you, gentle Lamb, should suffer so shameful an end in death?✦ Or had you planned to conquer the Evil One this way? And was all this done as a sign of love? These are the signs of love: joining last to first, you bind them together, fastening the highest to the lowest, showing that, dying this way, you love us beyond measure, while you poured yourself out completely through so many open wounds.✦✦34 You are a new friend; you are new wine. That is how the Wise One names you, and it's entirely just: for the whole Son yields a sweet taste, pouring out the cask of his flesh, though the vessel is beautiful. Warned by such great signs, let the penitent now believe that Christ gives himself to him from the heart. I will remember these signs so that Satan cannot harm me—for nothing so calms the fury of sin.5 Recalling these signs, I cry, “Oci, oci!” Sweet Jesus, I lament that I love you too little; yet I long to be reined in by the bridle of discipline, just as you were caught for me by the hook of love.6
The Hook of Charity
The soul reflects on the hook of love that drew Christ to death, and wonders at how His sacrifice draws the soul's affection in return.
What a hook love set before you, when it compelled you to die for humankind! But the pleasing bait also hid the hook, when, through this, it showed that you would win souls. The barb of the hook was not hidden from you; yet its piercing did not deter you. No—it pleased you to rush upon it, because desire for the bait drew you on. So for me, wretched as I am, whom you loved, you knowingly threw yourself onto death's sting when you offered yourself to the Father as a pure victim, and with your blood you washed the filthy one clean. So who would wonder if I sigh for you—I, joined without any merit to such a zealous man? For you draw my affection in a marvelous way, ending your life for me with such a dreadful death.
Longing for Death with Christ
The soul, inspired by Job, desires to nest in Christ's side and die with Him, crying out for executioners to fasten it to the cross.
Truly, I should no longer merely sigh—no, according to Job's word, I should tear my hair, prepare a little nest in the hollow of his side, and breathe my last there.7 Indeed, unless I die with you, I won't rest; crying “Oci, oci,” I'll never fall silent; from this longing I'll truly never grow lukewarm, no matter how much the world despises me for it.✦8 Then, like someone out of her mind, she cries out: Let the executioners come who will fasten this wretched one to Your Cross, Christ. For that end will be sweet to me; dying that way, I will embrace You with my own arms.9
Christ the Physician and the Eucharistic Feast
Christ is revealed as a gentle physician who soothes pain and feeds the soul with His body and blood, offering the key of Paradise to those who receive worthily.
Truly, there is no other way to soothe the raging pain that pierces my heart hour after hour, unless you, the abundant fountain of sweetness, are the physician of my pain. You are truly a gentle physician: you never sting, but gently draw the vice from the heart. For those you join firmly to yourself through love, you always anoint with your gifts.10 Alas, how damnably blind the world is! Though it's been dreadfully wounded by its enemies, it turns away from this Physician, even when he stands ready, opening his sweet side to the sick! Alas, why don't you, human being, store up in your memory the benefits of Christ's passion? For through this, the snares of the plunderer have been broken; through this, Christ has enriched you with the greatest goods.11 Indeed, he fed you with his own body when you were weak, and freely bathed you in his own blood; finally, he opened his sweet heart for you, so that it would become clear how much he loved you. Oh, how sweet a bath, how pleasant a food, which becomes the key of Paradise for the one who receives it worthily! And for the one you refresh, no labor is heavy, even though you are a weariness to lazy hearts.
The Heart's Rest and the Martyrdom of Love
The soul discovers Christ's heart as a resting place, longs to be wounded with Him, and enters a continuous martyrdom of groans, sighs, and tears, languishing in love until the end of its earthly sojourn.
Indeed, the sluggish heart hardly gives any thought to why Christ shows his finest heart, set upon the arms of the cross, and it doesn't notice that this heart offers itself as a resting place.12 Whenever this resting place is shown to a devout mind, it grips that mind just as tightly as a hawk is wholly fixed on the red meat by which it's called back.13 After this, the soul cries out as if out of her mind: Oh resting place, flesh bloodied in so many places for my sake—why am I not wounded with you?14 While you die, am I not bound to you? Still, though this is denied to me in my wretchedness, I for one will choose a new torment: unceasing groaning and weeping, until I leave this burdensome sojourn in the world. After this the sweet soul, burning more and more fervently, fails in all her sense, her body wasting away; now she can barely speak, but as her affection grows she lies on her bed, languishing. With the sweet instrument of her throat shattered, her tongue only quivering, and her voice gone, she laments the Lord with a wounded heart, her devout mind making up for words with tears. So for someone in such distress, all that brings comfort is weeping and keeping her heart occupied with sighs; for she cannot tear her eyes away from Christ's wounds or separate her heart from them. And so her spirit is captivated, as if the dying Beloved were present to her; she does not withdraw her gaze from the Cross at all, because the eye is where the affection is. Groans, sighs, tears, and laments are her delights, her food, her nourishment—by which she has meanwhile been found a new martyr; so they give growth to her martyrdom.
Read the original Latin
Oci, oci, anima clamat in hoc statu, Crebro fundens lacrymas sub hoc incolatu, Laudans et glorificans magno cum conatu Christum, qui tot pertulit suo pro reatu.
In hac hora anima ebria videtur; Sed circa meridiem calor quum augetur, Ut amoris stimulis magis perforetur, Mox ab illa passio Christi recensetur.
Plorans ergo respicit Agnum delicatum, Agnum sine macula, spinis coronatum, Lividum verberibus, clavis perforatum, Per tot loca lateris fossa cruentatum.
Tunc exclamat pia mens Oci cum lamentis, Oci, oci; miseram! quia meae mentis Turbat statum pallidus vultus morientis, Et languentes oculi in Cruce pendentis.
Siccine decuerat (inquit) te, benignum Agnum, mortis exitum pati tam indignum? Vel sic disposueras vincere malignum? Et hoc totum factum est ob amoris signum?
Haec amoris signa sunt, et postrema primis Copulans associas, summa figens imis, Monstrans ut, sic moriens, nos animas nimis, Dum te totum funderes tot apertis rimis.
Tu amicus novus es, tu es novum mustum; Sic te vocat Sapiens, et est satis iustum: Totus enim filius reddens dulcem gustum, Fundens carnis dolium, licet vas venustum.
Tantis signis monitus poenitens iam credat, Quod praecordialiter Christus ei se dat: Ista signa recolam, ne me Satan laedat, Nam peccati rabiem nihil ita sedat.
Ista signa recolens, Oci, oci clamo, Dulcis Iesu, querulor, quod te minus amo; Stringi tamen cupio disciplinae chamo, Sicut pro me captus es charitatis hamo.
Quantum hamum charitas tibi praesentavit, Mori quum pro homine te sollicitavit! Sed et esca placita hamum occupavit, Quum lucrari animas te per hoc monstravit.
Te quidem aculeus hami non latebat; Sed illius punctio te non deterrebat: Immo hunc impetere tibi complacebat, Quia desiderium escae attrahebat.
Ergo pro me misera, quam tu dilexisti, Mortis in aculeum sciens impegisti, Quum te Patri victimam mundam obtulisti, Et in tuo sanguine sordidam abluisti.
Quis miretur igitur, pro te si suspiro, Iuncta sine meritis tam zelanti viro? Nam affectum allicis meum modo miro, Pro me vitam finiens exitu tam diro.
Vere iam non debeo tantum suspirare, Immo, iuxta verbum Iob, crines lacerare, In caverna lateris nidulum parare, Et extremum spiritum illic exhalare.
Plane nisi moriar tecum, non quiescam; Oci, oci clamitans, nunquam conticescam; Ab hoc desiderio vere non tepescam, Quantumcumque saeculo propter hoc vilescam.
Tunc, ut demens, clamitat: Veniant lanistae, Qui affigant miseram Cruci tuae, Christe: Erit enim exitus mihi dulcis iste, Sic amplectar moriens propriis ulnis te.
Vere sic, non aliter, rabiens doloris, Qua cor meum singulis terebratur horis, Deliniri poterit; nisi tu dulcoris Fons abundans, medicus mei sis doloris.
Plane dulcis medicus es, qui nunquam pungis, Sed a corde vitium leniter emungis: Nam quos tibi firmiter per amorem iungis, Tuis charismatibus semper eos ungis.
Heu quam damnabiliter mundus est coecatus, Qui quum sit ab hostibus dire vulneratus, Hunc declinat medicum, quum adsit praeparatus, Languido aperiens suum dulce latus!
Heu cur beneficia Christi passionis Penes te memoriter, homo, non reponis! Per hanc enim laquei rupti sunt praedonis, Per hanc Christus maximis te ditavit bonis.
Suo quippe corpore languidum te pavit, Quem in suo sanguine gratis balneavit: Demum suum dulce cor tibi denudavit, Ut sic innotesceret quantum te amavit.
O quam dulce balneum, esca quam suavis, Quae sumenti digne fit Paradisi clavis! Et ei, quem reficis, nullus labor gravis, Licet sis fastidio cordibus ignavis.
Cor ignavi siquidem minime perpendit Ad quid Christus optimum suum cor ostendit Super alas positum crucis, nec attendit, Quod reclinatorii vices hoc praetendit.
Hoc reclinatorium quoties monstratur Piae menti, toties ei glutinatur, Sicut et accipiter totus inescatur Super carnem rubeam, per quam revocatur.
Post hoc clamat anima quasi dementata: O reclinatorium, caro cruentata Per tot loca propter me, cur non vulnerata Tecum sum? dum moreris, non sum colligata?
Licet tamen miserae sit istud negatum, Mihi quidem eligam novum cruciatum, Gemitum videlicet, iugemque ploratum, Donec mundi deseram gravem incolatum.
Post haec dulcis anima plus et plus fervescens, Sensu toto deficit, corpore tabescens; Iam vix loqui sufficit, sed affectu crescens Suo lecto decubat, utpote languescens.
Ergo dulcis gutturis organo quassato, Lingua tantum palpitans, sonitu sublato, Sed pro verbis pia mens fletu compensato, Lamentatur Dominum, corde sauciato.
Sic languenti siquidem nil nisi plorare Libet, et satagere corde suspirare; Suos enim oculos nescit revocare A Christi vulneribus, aut cor separare.
Sic est autem animus illius illectus, Quasi ei praesens sit moriens Dilectus; Et a Cruce minime retrahit aspectus, Quia illic oculus, ubi est affectus.
Gemitus, suspiria, lacrymae, lamenta, Sibi sunt deliciae, cibus, alimenta, Quibus nova Martyr est interim inventa, Sic suo martyrio praebent incrementa.
Scripture echoes
- ↩1Pet.1.19;John.1.29 — but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot John.1.29 — The next day he sees Jesus coming toward him and says, "Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"
- ↩John.1.29 — The next day he sees Jesus coming toward him and says, "Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"
- ↩John.15.13 — No one has greater love than this: that someone lay down his life for his friends.
- ↩Phil.2.6-Phil.2.8 — who, existing in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to exploit, Phil.2.7 — but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness, and appearing as a human being. Phil.2.8 — And he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
- ↩Rom.6.8;Gal.2.20;2Tim.2.11 — Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. Gal.2.20 — I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. 2Tim.2.11 — This saying is trustworthy: For if we died with him, we will also live with him;
Notes
- 1 ↩Medieval nightingale-cry (cf. OF ocire, “to kill”), conventional in Philomena poetry; kept as the source’s bird-call rather than paraphrased.
- 2 ↩Oci is the nightingale's traditional cry in this poem (Philomena), often heard as an Old French play on ocire, 'to kill'; kept as the source cry rather than smoothed into a generic 'Alas'.
- 3 ↩Read as 2sg of animare in the sense of loving/enlivening: dying, you love us / give us life beyond measure. Acc. pl. of anima ('souls') is less likely without a governing verb.
- 4 ↩rimis = clefts/fissures; in Passion context, the open wounds of Christ through which he pours himself out.
- 5 ↩praecordialiter is rendered 'from the heart' (from the breast/heart, with intimate heartfelt self-gift); alternatives include 'heartfeltly' or 'from the depths of the heart.'
- 6 ↩Medieval nightingale cry (OF oci from ocire, "to kill"), kept here as the poem's spiritual refrain: a call to kill sin / die to self, not a modern English idiom.
- 7 ↩caverna lateris: the wound in Christ's side, a common medieval image of refuge and dwelling in the Passion.
- 8 ↩Medieval nightingale cry (from Old French ocire, 'to kill'), conventional in Philomena devotion: the soul/bird cries out for death in union with the Crucified.
- 9 ↩Classical lanista is a gladiator-trainer; in this Passion-register lyric it functions as executioner/torturer, the agents who fix the body to the cross.
- 10 ↩Rendered as 'gifts' (charismata / gifts of grace). A more technical alternative is 'charisms'.
- 11 ↩praedonis: 'plunderer/robber' is the devil figure whose snares are broken by the Passion; hanc refers to Christ's passion (from s1).
- 12 ↩reclinatorium is a reclining-place or prop for rest; vices means it serves in that role. In context, Christ's heart on the cross is held forth as the soul's place of rest.
- 13 ↩reclinatorium: the previous stanza treats Christ’s heart on the cross as a resting-place/support for reclining; kept as “resting place” for continuity with PechamPhil.1.5.23–25.
- 14 ↩reclinatorium: rendered as resting-place (the wounded body of Christ as the soul's place of repose); continues the image from the previous stanza.
John Pecham (Peckham), Philomena companion
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