Hymn For Christmas-Day (Hymnus VIII. Kalendas Ianuarias)

Hymnus VIII. Kalendas Ianuarias


        Quid est, quod artum circulum
    sol iam recurrens deserit?
    Christusne terris nascitur,
    qui lucis auget tramitem?

        Heu quam fugacem gratiam
    festina volvebat dies,
    quam pene subductam facem
    sensim recisa extinxerat!

        Caelum nitescat laetius,
    gratetur et gaudens humus,
    scandit gradatim denuo
    iubar priores lineas.

        Emerge dulcis pusio,
    quem mater edit castitas,
    parens et expers coniugis,
    mediator et duplex genus.

        Ex ore quamlibet Patris
    sis ortus et verbo editus,
    tamen paterno in pectore
    sophia callebas prius.

        Quae prompta caelum condidit,
    caelum diemque et cetera,
    virtute verbi effecta sunt
    haec cuncta: nam verbum Deus.

        Sed ordinatis seculis,
    rerumque digesto statu
    fundator ipse et artifex
    permansit in Patris sinu,

        donec rotata annalium
    transvolverentur milia,
    atque ipse peccantem diu
    dignatus orbera viseret.

        Nam caeca vis mortalium
    venerans inanes nenias
    vel aera vel saxa algida,
    vel ligna credebat Deum.

        Haec dum sequuntur, perfidi
    praedonis in ius venerant,
    et mancipatam fumido
    vitam barathro inmerserant:

        Stragem sed istam non tulit
    Christus cadentum gentium
    inpune ne forsan sui
    Patris periret fabrica.

        Mortale corpus induit,
    ut excitato corpore
    mortis catenam frangeret
    hominemque portaret Patri.

        Hic ille natalis dies,
    quo te creator arduus
    spiravit et limo indidit
    sermone carnem glutinans.

        Sentisne, virgo nobilis,
    matura per fastidia
    pudoris intactum decus
    honore partus crescere?

        O quanta rerum gaudia
    alvus pudica continet,
    ex qua novellum seculum
    procedit et lux aurea!

        Vagitus ille exordium
    vernantis orbis prodidit,
    nam tunc renatus sordidum
    mundus veternum depulit.

        Sparsisse tellurem reor
    rus omne densis floribus,
    ipsasque arenas syrtium
    fragrasse nardo et nectare.

        Te cuncta nascentem puer
    sensere dura et barbara,
    victusque saxorum rigor
    obduxit herbam cotibus.

        Iam mella de scopulis fluunt,
    iam stillat ilex arido
    sudans amomum stipite,
    iam sunt myricis balsama.

        O sancta praesepis tui,
    aeterne rex, cunabula,
    populisque per seclum sacra
    mutis et ipsis credita.

        Adorat haec brutum pecus
    indocta turba scilicet,
    adorat excors natio,
    vis cuius in pastu sita est.

        Sed cum fideli spiritu
    concurrat ad praesepia
    pagana gens et quadrupes,
    sapiatque quod brutum fuit:

        Negat patrum prosapia
    perosa praesentem Deum:
    credas venenis ebriam
    furiisve lymphatam rapi.

        Quid prona per scelus ruis?
    agnosce, si quidquam tibi
    mentis resedit integrae,
    ducem tuorum principum.

        Hunc, quem latebra et obstetrix,
    et virgo feta, et cunulae
    et inbecilla infantia
    regem dederunt gentibus,

        peccator intueberis
    celsum coruscis nubibus,
    deiectus ipse et inritus
    plangens reatum fletibus:

        Cum vasta signum bucina
    terris cremandis miserit,
    et scissus axis cardinem
    mundi ruentis solverit:

        Insignis ipse et praeminens
    meritis rependet congrua,
    his lucis usum perpetis,
    illis gehennam et tartarum.

        Iudaea tunc fulmen crucis
    experta, qui sit, senties,
    quem te furoris praesule
    mors hausit et mox reddidit.




Hymn For Christmas-Day


    Why doth the sun re-orient take
    A wider range, his limits break?
    Lo! Christ is born, and o'er earth's night
    Shineth from more to more the light!

    Too swiftly did the radiant day
    Her brief course run and pass away:
    She scarce her kindly torch had fired
    Ere slowly fading it expired.

    Now let the sky more brightly beam,
    The earth take up the joyous theme:
    The orb a broadening pathway gains
    And with its erstwhile splendour reigns.

    Sweet babe, of chastity the flower,
    A virgin's blest mysterious dower!
    Rise in Thy twofold nature's might:
    Rise, God and man to reunite!

    Though by the Father's will above
    Thou wert begot, the Son of Love,
    Yet in His bosom Thou didst dwell,
    Of Wisdom the eternal Well;

    Wisdom, whereby the heavens were made
    And light's foundations first were laid:
    Creative Word! all flows from Thee!
    The Word is God eternally.

    For though with process of the suns
    The ordered whole harmonious runs,
    Still the Artificer Divine
    Leaves not the Father's inmost shrine.

    The rolling wheels of Time had passed
    O'er their millennial journey vast,
    Before in judgment clad He came
    Unto the world long steeped in shame.

    The purblind souls of mortals crass
    Had trusted gods of stone and brass,
    To things of nought their worship paid
    And senseless blocks of wood obeyed.

    And thus employed, they fell below
    The sway of man's perfidious foe:
    Plunged in the smoky sheer abyss
    They sank bereft of their true bliss.

    But that sore plight of ruined man
    Christ's pity could not lightly scan:
    Nor let God's building nobly wrought
    Ingloriously be brought to nought.

    He wrapped Him in our fleshly guise,
    That from the tomb He might arise,
    And man released from death's grim snare
    Home to His Father's bosom bear.

    This is the day of Thy dear birth,
    The bridal of the heaven and earth,
    When the Creator breathed on Thee
    The breath of pure humanity.

    Ah! glorious Maid, dost thou not guess
    What guerdon thy chaste soul shall bless,
    How by thy ripening pangs is bought
    An honour greater than all thought?

    O what a load of joy untold
    Thy womb inviolate doth hold!
    Of thee a golden age is born,
    The brightness of the earth's new morn!

    Hearken! doth not the infant's wail
    The universal springtide hail?
    For now the world re-born lays by
    Its gloomy, frost-bound apathy.

    Methinks in all her rustic bowers
    The earth is spread with clustering flowers:
    Odours of nard and nectar sweet
    E'en o'er the sands of Syrtes fleet.

    All places rough and deserts wild
    Have felt from far Thy coming, Child:
    Rocks to Thy gentle empire bow
    And verdure clothes the mountain brow.

    Sweet honey from the boulder leaps:
    The sere and leafless oak-bough weeps
    A strange rich attar: tamarisks too
    Of balsam pure distil the dew.

    Blessèd for ever, cradle dear,
    The lowly stall, the cavern drear!
    Men to this shrine, Eternal King,
    With dumb brutes adoration bring.

    The ox and ass in homage low
    Obedient to their Maker bow:
    Bows too the unlearn'd heartless crowd
    Whose minds the sensual feast doth cloud.

    Though, by the faithful Spirit impelled,
    Shepherds and brutes, unreasoning held,
    Yea, folk that did in darkness dwell
    Discern their God in His poor cell:

    Yet children of the sacred race
    Blindly abhor the Incarnate grace:
    By philtres you might deem them lulled
    Or by some bacchic phrenzy dulled.

    Why headlong thus to ruin stride?
    If aught of soundness in you bide,
    Behold in Him the Lord divine
    Of all your patriarchal line.

    Mark you the dim-lit cave, the Maid,
    The humble nurse, the cradle laid,
    The helpless infancy forlorn:
    Yet thus the Gentiles' King was born!

    Ah sinner, thou shalt one day see
    This Child in dreadful majesty,
    See Him in glorious clouds descend,
    While thou thy guilty heart shalt rend.

    Vain all thy tears, when loud shall sound
    The trump, when flames shall scorch the ground,
    When from its hinge the cloven world
    Is loosed, in horrid tumult hurled.

    Then throned on high, the Judge of all
    Shall mortals to their reckoning call:
    To these shall grant the prize of light,
    To those Gehenna's gloomy night.

    Then, Israel, shalt thou learn at length
    The Cross hath, as the lightning, strength:
    Doomed by thy wrath, He now is Lord,
    Whom Death once grasped but soon restored.