AD l’amor ch’è uenuto en carne a noi se dare
The Descent of Divine Love
The soul is invited to contemplate the radical humility of the Incarnation, where the King of Heaven abandons his glory to be born in a stable.
Let’s offer praise and sing with honor to the Love who came in the flesh to give himself to us. Honor him, soul, since he comes to save you; go—do not delay any longer in reaching him! He holds nothing back from sharing himself with you, because he wants to unite you completely with himself; how, then, can you bear not to surrender yourself to him, not to receive him wholly and embrace him with love? Think how much he gives you and what he asks of you, for he commands no more than you can do; he leaves heaven and walks upon the earth, sending no wealth ahead for his use; he chooses to stay in a stable, leaving his palace behind, and brings none of his servants with him. Your throne of fine gold, gleaming with jewels, your crown shining so brightly—why have you left them now? The ranks of cherubim, the seraphim burning so brightly—that joyful court, how could you abandon it? A court so honored, filled with such servants and young attendants—and for love of your brothers, why do you leave it, Lord?1 Instead of such a beautiful throne, you received a manger with only a little hay to lie on; instead of a crown of stars, you were wrapped in swaddling clothes with an ox and a donkey beside you, even though you had been so greatly honored; now Joseph and Mary are your companions, where once you had a court of such great honor around you. You seem to have become drunk, or mad and senseless, leaving behind so great a kingdom and such vast riches; but how did you come to show such madness? Could you possibly have found any greater height?2 I see that these are the mighty works of love without measure, which brings such exalted greatness down to so lowly a state. O gracious Love, who have you fallen in love with, who has wounded you so deeply that you go about like a madman? I see that this love has you in its power and has bound you so tightly that you've given yourself completely and can no longer resist. I know well that this love is leading you to your death, since its fire never weakens or dies down.
The Bargain of the Heart
Christ and the soul engage in a dialogue regarding the nature of this love, which acts as a divine magnet drawing the soul into a total exchange of self.
Never before was love so boundless that it held such power at the moment of its birth; for he sold himself before he was even born. Love has purchased you, and you hold nothing of yourself back; and no sentence remains but this: that love should kill you and so conquer you upon the cross, in pain.✦✦ With that first wound, love made such an exchange, seizing everything with such force; it drew wisdom, power, and life to itself more strongly than any magnet draws iron—bringing such majesty down to such lowliness, making you stay in a stable and, for love’s sake, shrink from neither its wretchedness nor its stench.3 Whether you don’t understand or cannot feel it, Jesus, you have come down to such lowliness: in you the light of splendor seems to grow dim, and power and perception seem lost; wounded love strikes, and you do not defend yourself—you surrender to its force, giving up your strength. I know well, little child, that you possess perfect wisdom and all the power of full maturity; how, then, could you, as such a small child, contain your entire will within such lowliness? So great was the love that bound you completely and concealed within itself your wisdom, strength, and power. Love made you lie there, wrapped in such humble swaddling cloths, and made you so helpless that you had to receive help. Oh, dear little rags, able to swaddle the high God and bind him as though he had nothing at all! Wrapped in you was a treasure so precious and pure—worth more than every jewel and all the gold—even though you were so cheap and plain.4 What name can be given to such immeasurable love, which has bound the Almighty himself? No love born of a child or any other relative could ever rise to such a height—seizing the mind so completely, binding all its strength, and sweetly drawing it beyond every awareness of itself. I can plainly see that a father naturally loves his son, and that a mother tenderly gives him her whole heart; but I don’t see him giving everything to his son—not if he still holds on to judgment, reason, strength, and courage. I see that he spares himself, unwilling to die for him or to endure torment or pain. Anyone who wanted to find love would have to be willing to lose their life, keep nothing dear for themselves, buy poverty as a precious pearl, and endure for love’s sake a mortal wound to the heart. Whoever gives wants to see what they receive in return, loving as they are loved by the one who loves them. What can any creature give you, supreme Goodness, when out of love you have given yourself to us? All that a creature is worth, beside your dignity, is lower than worthlessness; so to whom have you given yourself? How, then, will you ever be repaid for such immeasurable generosity?5 Can our sickness give you any delight?
The Bridal Covenant
Christ speaks as the Bridegroom, offering his own blood as a dowry to the soul, promising heavenly riches in exchange for the soul's surrender.
Now that you have us—a worthless gain, it seems to me—gold goes begging for tin just so its beauty might be seen. You seem almost frantic to find us, and consider the exchange you’re making: trading joy for sorrow and riches for poverty. Isn't it sheer madness to keep neither reason nor will for yourself, all to purchase love?6 Measureless Love, your strength is so great that you can bring the divine height so low. You have wounded the heart of supreme Beauty, so that he might wed himself to our wretchedness as his delight. Jesus seems beside himself, unable to care for himself: love has wounded him so deeply that pain tastes sweet to him.7 O God in love, tell me about this love that so wonderfully renews those who love and makes them rejoice. If only I could gaze upon your beautiful face, rest in the sight of it, and desire nothing else. So I’d like to hear how love has bound you, and whether I can make such a bargain as to feel some of this warmth.8 My bride, who asks this of me, marvel at this great deed and consider the bargain love has made me undertake. By your prayer you command me; I am drawn far beyond myself, striving toward you, and love makes me suffer. So don’t delay any longer in giving yourself to me. As I give myself to you, receive me, and give me your heart.910 I am in love with you, my bride, whom I love so deeply; come to me, for I long so much to unite myself with you as family.11 Love has bound and caught me like a hook; that is why I call you my bride, so that I may embrace you in purity. Consider how far I have descended for you, down to your lowliness; love for you has taken hold of me—be kindled with ardor. For you, I leave riches behind and embrace poverty and bitter suffering, giving up every delight. I trade sweetness for great adversity, and true peace for pain and want; now may you recognize and receive such perfect love, giving love in return for love. I know you can’t give me wealth or talent, grant me understanding, or make me greater; apart from yourself, what can you give me in payment? You have no other thing of value to bestow; this drives me mad: command Love to give me your heart, which I ask for always.12 This is the bargain I want to make with you, and for it I want to give you myself with all my riches. I’ve brought treasure down from heaven to exchange a life of glory for a bitter death. Take sweetness from me and give me sorrow and pain: love that never rests has made me lavish everything.1314 I ask little of you and give you so much, and I don’t even spare myself: I’m willing to die for you. If you consider what I command, what burden am I placing on you? I ask for love as my gift—will you hold back from giving it? Love drives me mad; I can do nothing else. You’ve made me give so much that I’m more reckless than a gambler. A bride brings a dowry to her husband; she isn't endowed by him. The dowry is settled before he agrees to marry her. No man seems so lowly that someone would provide a dowry for his sake—unless he has found a woman of high standing and hopes to raise himself through an illustrious marriage, lifting his low estate to honorable rank.15 I don't expect high rank or greatness from you, my bride, to whom I have given myself so completely. For your sake, I take on frailty, shame, and poverty. So let your love always rest in me, because you've given me no dowry; instead, I want to endow you, giving all my blood in anguish on the cross. As your dowry I give you immeasurable riches, greater than anyone has ever imagined, and they will fill you completely. I store them in heaven, where they are kept for you: they cannot be stolen or ever perish on their own. I want to clothe you in light brighter than the sun, but first I strip you of guilt and its stench. You’ll be crowned with a crown of stars and seated on a throne of gems and pure gold; your robe will be adorned with precious stones and pearls, and your chamber prepared with rich hangings and a canopy. Everything will be divine—but I’m speaking to you in images, because you have no power to imagine such splendor.
The Consummation of Love
The soul responds with a final, desperate plea for union, culminating in a communal invitation to feast upon the sweetness of the incarnate Love.
To give you this glory, I descended so low and chose to rest in a filthy stable. So let such exalted love be loved in return—the love that comes with such riches, joyfully giving itself away. Don't let your heart be idle when it finds me burning with love; let your mind grow warm and embrace me fervently.✦ Love, I beg you, give yourself to me as my bride, for love is what I ask of you; I want to seek nothing but to find love. Love gives me no rest: it keeps stripping everything from me, binding me tightly, and never stops setting me on fire. Then begin to love, my dearly loved bride. I bought you at a great price; I have nothing greater left to give. Jesus, my sweet bridegroom, tell me how I can love you as deeply as I know I should. You didn't consider it too painful to suffer for me, because you wanted to save me after I had fallen into sin. I see that for my sake, the divine Majesty came to make a queen of a servant and pull me out of every foulness. Love, I am entirely yours, because you created me and bought me back when I was condemned to death. Anyone who recovered something precious that was lost would guard it well and love it all the more. No one but you, Christ, can claim any share in me. You made this purchase; now preserve what you have bought.16 Love, if I could give myself to you even more completely than I have, there's nothing in me that would hold back; but I have nothing more to give. If I possessed the world and everything it produces—and still more besides—I would give it all to you, my life. So I give you what lies within my power: all my willing and hoping, all my loving and longing, with my whole heart. I know you haven't changed, yet you ask nothing more of me. I give you whatever you command, along with a boundless desire that has no end, so that it may go even further and pour itself out completely, caught up in you. Love has wounded my heart so deeply that, if it could die and had a thousand lives, it would give them all for you, my love. Love, your bride, who longs so deeply to embrace you, asks what more she can give. O my sweet life, don't leave me in anguish; let me gaze upon your gracious face. If even you couldn't defend yourself against love, how can I resist and bear such burning passion? Have compassion on me, merciful Jesus! Do not leave me, my bridegroom, ever deprived of you. If I lament and grieve when your joyful love doesn't graciously give itself to me, it truly feels like an anguished death; since you have betrothed me, you would be cruel to deny me—for the world tastes like gall to me, and so does all its sweetness.17 Now I want to sing, because my love has been born and has redeemed me; he has placed the ring of love upon me. Love sets me so aflame that he has given himself to me in the flesh. I will hold him in my embrace, for he has become my brother. O sweet little child, I have conceived you in my heart and held you in my arms; therefore I cry out: Love! Lovers, I invite you to a wedding so joyful, a feast so sweet wherever love is tasted. He is united with us, bringing the riches of love and gracious delights wherever love is found. Soul, renew yourself now; embrace this bridegroom. He gives himself so delightfully—let us cry out: Love! Love! Love, keep us intoxicated with love, held in your embrace and transformed into love; and always come to our aid, so that we aren’t deceived but are found in love, our hearts forever lifted high. Love, you were born for us; keep feeding us with love—the sweetness no Pharisee or scribe can taste.
Read the original Latin
AD l’amor ch’è uenuto en carne a noi se dare, andiamo a laude fare et canto con honore.
Honoral, da che uiene, alma, per te saluare; uia, più non tardare ad lui de peruenire! de sé non se retene che non te uoglia dare parte, perché uol fare te seco tutto unire; porrai donqua soffrire a llui che non te rendi, et lui tutto non prendi et abracci con amore?
Pensa quanto te dona et a te que demanda, però che non comanda più che non possi fare; lo ciel sì abandona et per terra sì anda, et ante sé non manda richeza per usare; en stalla sì uol stare, palazo abandonato, seco non ha menato alcun suo seruitore.
La sedia d’auro fino de gemme resplendente, corona sì lucente, or perché l’ài lassata? orden de cherubini, seraphin tanto ardente, quella corte gaudente co l’ài abandonata? corte tanto honorata de tal semi & donzelli et per amor fratelli, perché lassi, Signore?
Per sedia tanto bella presepe hai receuuto, et poco feno hauuto doue fussi locato; per corona de stelle en pancelli enuoluto, boue & aseno tenuto ch’eri sì honorato; ora sè acompagnato da Ioseph & Maria, ch’aueui en compagnìa corte de tanto honore.
Ebrio par deuentato o matto senza senno, lassando sì gran renno et sì alte richeze; ma com’è ciò scontrato de tal matteza segno? hauereste tu pegno altre trouar alteze? uegio che son forteze d’amor senza mesura, che muta tanta altura en sì basso ualore.
Amor de cortesìa, de cui sè namorato, che t’à sì uulnerato, che pazo te fa gire? uegio che t’à en balìa, sì forte t’à legato, che tutto te sè dato, già non poi contradire; ben so che a morire questo amor sì te mena, da poi che non allena né cessa suo calore.
Già non fu mai ueduto amor sì smesurato, ch’allora quando è nato hagia tanta potenza; poi che s’è uenduto emprima che sia nato, l’amor t’à comparato, de te non fai retenza; et non reman sentenza, se non che te occida l’amor et sì conquida en croce con dolore.
Ha facto tal baratto en la prima ferita, omne cosa rapita con sì gran forteza; ad sé ha tanto tracto senno, uirtù & uita, più ch’onne calamita ferro; sì grande alteza ad cusì uil bassezza en stalla farte stare, per amor non schifare defecto né fetore.
E che tu non conoschi o non hai sentimento, ad tale abassamento, Iesù, tu sè uenuto; en te par che s’offoschi luce de splendimento, potere & uedimento pare che sia perduto; batte l’amor feruto et tu non te defendi, a sua forza t’arendi donando tuo uigore.
Ben so che, garzoncello, hai perfecto sapere, et tutto quel potere ch’à la perfecta etade; donqua co picciolello poteue contenere tutto lo tuo uolere en tanta uilitade? grand’era caritade, tutto sì te legaua, et en sé occultaua senno, forza & ualore.
En cusì uil pancelli enuolto te fe’ stare, et forte abisognare che riceuissi aiuto. o cari cenciarelli, potendo sì fasciare et l’alto Dio legare, co fosse destituto; en que era inuoluto sì caro & fin thesauro sopr’omne gemma & auro en uil prezo et colore!
Co se dé nominare amor sì smesurato, lo qual sì ha legato ad sé l’Omnipotente? già non se pò montare ad grado de tal stato amor che fosse nato de figlio o de parente, che prenda sì la mente, legando omne forteza, trahendo con dolceza fuor d’omne suo sentore.
Ben uegio che ama figlio lo patre per natura, et matre con dolzura tutto suo cuor li dona; ma che perda consiglio, senno, forza & ualura, questo non m’afigura che tutto en lui lo pona; ueggio che a sé perdona, non uolendo morire per lui, né sofferire tormento né dolore.
Chi, per amor trouare, uolesse perder uita, nulla cosa gradita ad sé più retenere, pouertà comperare per cara margarita, mortale al cor ferita per questo sostenere; chi dona, uol uedere de que fosse cambiato, amando com’è amato da lo suo amadore.
Que dar può creatura ad te, somma bontade, ché tu per caritate ad lei te sè donato? tutta la sua ualura alla tua dignitate è pegio che uiltate; dunqua, a cui te sè dato? or co sirai cambiato de sì gran cortesìa? la nostra malsanìa puoti donar sapore?
Or ecco che tu ce habbi, parme, sì uil guadagno, demanda l’auro stagno per mostrar sua belleza; trouar par che n’arrabbi, et pensa qual fai cagno, letitia dar per lagno, per pouertà richeza; or non è gran matteza ad sé non retenere senno né suo uolere per comparar amore?
Amor esmesurato, grande sì hai forteza, che la diuina alteza puoi tanto abassare; lo cor hai uulnerato de la somma belleza, nostra piacer laideza per poter desponsare; de sé non pò curare, Iesù pare empazito, l’amor sì l’à ferito, pena li par dolzore.
O ennamorato Dio, d’esto amor me nouella, che sì ben renouella gli amanti rengioire, contemplar si poss’io tua faccia tanto bella, reposome con ella né altro uo sentire; però uorrei udire com’egli t’à legato, se far posso mercato sentir d’esto calore.
Sposa che me demandi, ammiri lo gran facto, pensando lo baracto ch’amor m’à facto fare; pregando me comandi, sì fuor de me son tracto, enuerso te combacto, l’amor me fa penare; donqua più non tardare ad me che non te rendi; como me do, sì prendi, ad me dona tuo core.
De te so namorato, o sposa, cui tant’amo; soccorri tanto bramo teco far parenteza. l’amor sì m’à legato et preso como l’hamo; però sposa te chiamo, abracciar con netteza. pensa ch’a tua bassezza per te sì so desceso, amor de te m’à preso, encende con ardore.
Per te lasso richeze et prendo pouertade, forte penalitade, lassando onne dilecto. commuto le dolceze en grande auersitate, uera tranquillitate en dolore & defecto; amor cusì perfecto ora sia conosciuto da te & receuuto dando amor per amore.
So non me puoi donare richeza né talento, né darme entendemento, né poterme engrandire; de fuor de te que dare me puoi per pagamento? cosa de ualimento non è de tuo largire; questo famme empazire, amor ch’ài en balìa che lo tuo cor me dia, qual demando tuttore.
En ciò sta mio mercato che tieco uoglio fare, et per ciò uoglio dare me con tutta richeza; da cielo agio recato thesauro per cambiare uita con gloriare per morte d’amareza; prende da me dolceza, dando dolor & pena, l’amor che non ha lena m’à facto sprecatore.
A tte poco ademando et molto sì tte dono, et già non me perdono; per te uoglio morire. se pensi que comando, en que cosa me pono, amor chiedo per dono, terrati de largire? amor faime empazire, altro non posso fare, tanto m’ài facto dare, più so che giocatore.
Sposa dota marito, da lui non è dotata; prima dota è tractata che la uoglia sponsare. nullo par sì smarrito per cui dota sia data, già se non ha trouata donna de grande affare, uolendo exaltare sé per gran parenteza leuando sua basseza ad dignità d’onore.
Alteza non aspecto né alcuna magiorìa da te, o sposa mia, ad cui sì me so dato; prendo per te defecto uergogna & meschinìa; or donque sempre sia en me tuo amor locato, perché non m’ài dotato, ma te uoglio dotare, tutto mio sangue dare en croce con dolore.
En dota sì te dono richeze esmesurate, che non fo mai pensate, ben te porran rempire; en cielo sì le pono, lì te son conseruate, non ponno esser robbate, né per sé mai perire; de luce te uestire più che sole sì uoglio, però prima te spoglio de colpa & de fetore.
De corona de stelle sirai encoronata, en sedia collocata de gemme et auro fino; de margarite & perle serà la ueste ornata, la zambra apparecchiata de drappi & baldachino; tutto sirà diuino, ma parlote en figura, perché non hai ualura pensar esso candore.
Per darte questo stato descesi a tal basseza, en stalla de laideza hauer uolsi riposo; sia donque recambiato amor de tanta alteza, che uiene con tal richeza per donarse gioioso; cor non stia otioso de me trouar feruente, rescaldese la mente, abracci con feruore.
Amor, priego, me dona, sposa, ch’amor demando, altro non uo cercando se non amor trouare; l’amor non me perdona, tutto me ua spogliando, forte me ua legando, non cessa d’enflammare. donqua prendi ad amare, sposa cotanto amata, ben t’aggio comparata, più dar non ho ualore.
Iesù, dolce mio sposo, dimme que posso fare, che io te possa amare quanto te so tenuta; ch’a te non fo penoso per me pena portare, uolendome saluare ch’en colpa era caduta; per me, uegio, è uenuta la maiestà diuina de serua far regina, trarmi d’ogni fetore.
Amor, tutta so tua poi che m’ài creata, et hame recomparata ch’era dannata a morte; chi la derrata sua hauesse retrouata, per lui è ben guardata et amata più forte; nullo ce può hauer sorte en me, se non tu, Christo; facesti questo acquisto, sìene conseruatore.
A tte più che me tutta, amor, se dar potesse non è che nol facesse; ma più non ho che dia; lo mondo & ciò che fructa se tutto el possedesse, et più se ancora hauesse darìate, uita mia; dòtte che ho en balìa: uoler tutto & sperare, amare & desiare con tutto el mio core.
So che non sè cambiato, ma più tu non demandi; dòtte quanto comandi, et uolere enfinito, che non è terminato, che ancora più non andi, et tutto non se spandi en te stando rapito; l’amor ha el cor ferito, che se morir potesse et mille uite hauesse, per te darebbe, amore.
Demandi che più dia, amor, questa tua sposa che tanto è desiosa te potere abracciare; o dolce uita mia, non me far star penosa, tua faccia gratiosa me dona a contemplare; se non potesti fare tu da l’amor defesa, co posso far contesa portar tanto calore?
Donqua, prendi cordoglio de me, Iesù pietoso! non me lassar, mio sposo, de te star mai priuata. s’io me lamento & doglio quando tuo amor gioioso non se dà gratioso, ben par morte acorata; da che m’ài desponsata, sarestime crudele, lo mondo me par fiele et omne suo dolzore.
Voglio ormai far canto che l’amor mio è nato et hame recomperato; d’amor m’à messo anello, l’amor m’encende tanto, ch’en carne me s’è dato, terrollome abracciato, ch’è facto mio fratello; o dolce garzoncello, en cor t’ò conceputo et en braccia tenuto, però sì grido: amore.
Amanti, uoi enuito a noze sì gioiose, che son sì saporose doue l’amor si proua; egli è con noi unito con richeze amorose, delitie gratiose doue l’amor se troua; alma, or te renoua, abraccia questo sposo, el se dà sì delectoso, gridiamo: amore, amore.
Amor, or ne manteni d’amore enebriati, teco stare abracciati en amor trasformato; et sempre ne souieni che non siamo engannati, ma en amor trouati col cor sempre leuato; per noi, amor, sè nato, d’amor sempre ne ciba, qual pharyseo o scriba non gusta per sapore.
Scripture echoes
- ↩1Cor.6.20 — For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.
- ↩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.
- ↩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.
Notes
- 1 ↩The reading “semi” is uncertain; in context it appears to denote members or servants of the heavenly court.
- 2 ↩The syntax and the force of “pegno” are uncertain; the line is rendered as a rhetorical question suggesting that Christ's humility is itself the highest greatness.
- 3 ↩The compressed opening is understood in light of the preceding stanza: love’s first wound brings about an exchange in which Christ gives himself for humanity.
- 4 ↩Rendered “as though he had nothing at all”; the phrase emphasizes the incarnate God's chosen poverty and dependence.
- 5 ↩Literally evokes being exchanged or receiving something in return; here it asks what recompense could answer such generosity.
- 6 ↩The dialectal “cagno” is understood as an exchange or bargain, a reading supported by the surrounding contrasts.
- 7 ↩The compact syntax is ambiguous; this rendering takes Christ as delighting to wed himself to human wretchedness.
- 8 ↩Literally, “if I can make a bargain”: the poet asks whether he may enter into love’s exchange and share in its ardor.
- 9 ↩Literally “the bargain” or “exchange”: the incarnation is presented as love’s astonishing exchange of self-gift.
- 10 ↩The dialectal wording is uncertain; it appears to describe the speaker striving or pressing toward the bride.
- 11 ↩Literally, “to make kinship”; here it expresses Christ’s desire to enter into an intimate bond with the bride.
- 12 ↩The phrase is read as an address to Christ, who has Love under his command; its personification is preserved in English.
- 13 ↩The compressed phrase is understood as Christ exchanging his glorious heavenly life for a bitter death.
- 14 ↩Literally, a squanderer or spendthrift; here it presents love as making Christ give himself and his riches without reserve.
- 15 ↩The medieval Italian smarrito can mean lost, wretched, or abject here; “so lowly” best fits the contrast with the woman’s high standing and the man’s resulting elevation.
- 16 ↩Literally, “his lost property” or “what he had lost”; rendered as “something precious that was lost” to preserve the image of recovery and the speaker’s personal worth to Christ.
- 17 ↩The source says literally, “you would be cruel”; “to deny me” makes explicit the action implied by the preceding plea not to be deprived of the bridegroom.
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