Church-rents and schismes
Church-rents and schismes
Splendid rose, (alas!)1 Where are you? In the chair where you so lately triumphed and shone, a worm sits, whose many feet and hair are the more foul, the more divine you were. This, this has done it—this bit the root and bottom of the leaves; and when the wind once perceived it, it blew them underfoot, where rude unhallowed steps crush and grind their beautiful glories. I see only shreds of you in your chair, and those all bitten. Why does my Mother blush? Is she the rose, and does she show it that way? Indeed, Christ's precious blood gave you your color once; and when your foes thought to let it out, the bleeding did you good, and made you look much fresher than before.✦2 But when debates and fretting jealousies wormed and worked within you more and more, your color faded, and calamities turned your ruddy complexion into pale and bleak: your health and beauty both began to break. Then your different parts came loose and sprang apart; and when your neighbors saw it, they rushed in like a north wind and threw them in the dirt where pagans tread. O dear, kind Mother, where will I get myself enough eyes to weep—as many eyes as there are stars? Since it is night, and much of Asia and Europe are fast asleep, and even all of Africa too—if only I could at least, with these two poor eyes, lick up all the dew that falls by night and pour it out for you!3
Read the original English
BRave rose, (alas!) where art thou? in the chair Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine, A worm doth sit, whose many feet and hair Are the more foul, the more thou wert divine. This, this hath done it, this did bite the root And bottome of the leaves: which when the winde Did once perceive, it blew them under foot, Where rude unhallow'd steps do crush and grinde Their beauteous glories. Onely shreds of thee, And those all bitten, in thy chair I see.
Why doth my Mother blush? is she the rose, And shows it so? Indeed Christs precious bloud Gave you a colour once; which when your foes Thought to let out, the bleeding did you good, And made you look much fresher then before. But when debates and fretting jealousies Did worm and work within you more and more, Your colour faded, and calamities Turned your ruddie into pale and bleak: Your health and beautie both began to break.
Then did your sev'rall parts unloose and start: Which when your neighbours saw, like a north-winde, They rushed in, and cast them in the dirt Where Pagans tread. O Mother deare and kinde, Where shall I get me eyes enough to weep, As many eyes as starres? Since it is night, And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep, And ev'n all Africk; would at least I might With these two poore ones lick up all the dew, Which falls by night, and poure it out for you!
Scripture echoes
- ↩1Pet.1.19 — but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot
Notes
- 1 ↩Source 'brave' is period English for fine/splendid/excellent, not courageous; rendered for modern sense.
- 2 ↩Early modern 'then' is comparative 'than' (fresher than before), not temporal 'then'.
- 3 ↩'these two poor ones' continues the eyes-for-weeping image of s2; rendered as 'these two poor eyes' for clarity, not a second pair of persons.
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