Pro Domo Dei.[128]

Ut magis in mundi votis aviumque querelis Jam veniens solet esse dies, ubi cuspide prima Palpitat, et roseo lux praevia ludit ab ortu; Cum nec abest Phoebus, nec Eois laetus habenis Totus adest, volucrumque procul vaga murmura mulcet: Nos ita; quos nuper radiis afflavit honestis Relligiosa dies; nostrique per atria coeli-- Sacra domus nostrum est coelum--jam luce tenella Libat adhuc trepidae fax nondum firma diei: Nos ita jam exercet nimii impatientia voti, Speque sui propiore premit. Quis pectora tanti Tendit amor coepti, desiderio quam longo Lentae spes inhiant, domus o dulcissima rerum, Plena Deo domus! Ah, quis erit, quis, dicimus, ille-- O bonus, o ingens meritis, o proximus ipsi, Quem vocat in sua dona, Deo--quo vindice totas Excutiant tenebras haec sancta crepuscula? Quando, Quando erit, ut tremulae flos heu tener ille diei, Qui velut ex oriente suo jam altaria circum Lambit, et ambiguo nobis procul anuit astro, Plenis se pandat foliis, et lampade tota Laetus, ut e medio cum sol micat aureus axe, Attonitam penetrare domum bene possit adulto Sidere, nec dubio pia moenia mulceat ore? Quando erit, ut convexa suo quoque pulchra sereno Florescant, roseoque tremant laquearia risu? Quae nimium informis tanquam sibi conscia frontis Perpetuis jam se lustrant lacrymantia guttis? Quando erit, ut claris meliori luce fenestris Plurima per vitreos vivat pia pagina vultus? Quando erit, ut sacrum nobis celebrantibus hymnum Organicos facili et nunquam fallente susurro Nobile murmur agat nervos; pulmonis iniqui Fistula nec monitus faciat malefida sinistros? Denique, quicquid id est quod res hic sacra requirit, Fausta illa et felix--sitque o tua--dextra, suam cui Debeat haec Aurora diem. Tibi supplicat ipsa, Ipsa tibi facit ara preces. Tu jam illius audi, Audiet illa tuas. Dubium est, modo porrige dextram, Des magis, an capias: audi tantum esse beatus, Et damnum hoc lucrare tibi. Scis ipse volucres Quae rota volvat opes; has ergo, hic fige perennis Fundamenta Domus Petrensi in rupe, suamque Fortunae sic deme rotam. Scis ipse procaces Divitias quam prona vagos vehat ala per Euros; Divitiis illas, age, deme volucribus alas, Facque suus nostras illis sit nidus ad aras: Remigii ut tandem pennas melioris adeptae, Se rapiant, dominumque suum super aethera secum. Felix o qui sic potuit bene providus uti Fortunae pennis et opum levitate suarum, Divitiisque suis aquilae sic addidit alas.

TRANSLATION.

THE PRAYER OF PETERHOUSE FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD [=ITS CHAPEL].

As bids the Day a keener longing stir The waking world, and warblings cheerier To birds inspires, when comes she o'er the hills, As quivering dart the streaks of Morn, and thrills Through lattic'd sky from roseate East the light Presaging his approach; nor absent quite, Nor glorying in his slacken'd reins, the Sun Is present all; and birds, to music won By gentle touch, are murmuring far and near,-- So we, on whom with radiance severe A solemn day begins to dawn; whose eye Now sees glide through the heavenly courts which lie, With portals wide--God's house is heaven, we say-- The flame unsteady of still wavering Day Slenderly stealing in; the prospect nigher, Our hearts too labour with extreme desire, And throb with hopes impatient of their end. How love of such a work our heart doth rend! How long desire makes hopes in leash restrain'd To pant! O sweetest House, on which has rain'd The torrent of God's fulness. Ah, who is he, Ah, who--O good, O huge in charity, O nigh to God Himself,--Whom to descend On His own gracious gifts he prays--shall lend This sacred twilight power to drive away All gloom, and shake her raiment into day? Ah, when, thou pitifully trem'lous bloom Of glimmering Day, that as from bridal room In the Orient cam'st to kiss our altar-stone, And beckonest to us from a star alone, In yonder distance shining doubtfully,-- Ah, when wilt thou expand to Day, and, free In conscious joy of thy full splendour, pour A flood of light, as when the Sun doth soar In golden mid-day, and, to full age grown, Shine through and through the pile, and make it own With awe thy sway, nor let the sacred walls Doubt thy embrace? Blest he to whom befalls To see the vaulted roofs span their fair sky, And break in flowers, while fretted ceilings lie Trembling with rosy laughter; which do now, As wearing of their shame a conscious brow, Bedew their formless face with dropping tear. When shall it be? the window growing clear With better light, that many a page devout May live, and life from glassy face breathe out. Ah, when, as hymn of praise we celebrate, Shall solemn-breathing murmur make vibrate The organ's nerves with graceful ceaseless hum; Nor pipe of lung unjust intruding come, Each harsh, uncertain note for ever dumb? Whatever else, in fine, this Sanctuary May need, that right-hand bless'd and happy be, And be it thine! to which the Dawn shall owe Its day. The altar kneels to thee. Do thou List to her prayer, and she will thine allow; Stretch out thy laden hand, and doubtful live Whether thou dost not more receive than give; That thou art happy do thou only hear, And turn thy loss to gain in yonder sphere. Thou know'st what wheel makes riches fly away; These riches therefore here securely lay, Fountains of a House perennial, On the Petrensian rock; from Fortune shall Her own wheel thus be wrench'd. Thou knowest how prone A wing bears up unconstant riches, blown On vagrant, veering winds. Come, take away These wings from fleeting riches, make them stay At these our altars, and build here their nest; Till arm'd with wings to better flight redress'd, They may transport themselves to the home of rest, Bearing their master with them. Blest that man Who knowing prudently the times to scan, The airiness of wealth to profit brings, And him on Fortune's pinions deftly flings, And to his riches adds an eagle's wings. S.S.