In the reign of Julius II., the banished families who had been plundered by the Borgias were restored to their rights and honors at Rome; and there was a princess of the house of Sarelli then at Rome, whose sanctity of life and manners was held to go back to the traditions of primitive Christianity, so that she was renowned not less for goodness than for rank and beauty.
In those days, too, Raphael, the friend of Fra Bartolommeo, placed in one of the grandest halls of the Vatican, among the Apostles and Saints, the image of the traduced and despised martyr whose ashes had been cast to the winds and waters in Florence. His memory lingered long in Italy, so that it was even claimed that miracles were wrought in his name and by his intercession. Certain it is, that the living words he spoke were seeds of immortal flowers which blossomed in secret dells and obscure shadows of his beautiful Italy.
1
"Jesus, crown of virgin spirits,Whom a virgin mother bore,Graciously accept our praisesWhile thy footsteps we adore."Thee among the lilies feedingChoirs of virgins walk beside,Bridegroom crowned with glorious beautyGiving beauty to thy bride."Where thou goest still they followSinging, singing as they move,All those souls forever virginWedded only to thy love."2
I cannot forbear quoting Mr. Norton's beautiful translation of this sonnet in the Atlantic Monthly for February, 1859: —
"So gentle and so modest doth appearMy lady when she giveth her salute,That every tongue becometh trembling mute,Nor do the eyes to look upon her dare.And though she hears her praises, she doth goBenignly clothèd with humility,And like a thing come down she seems to beFrom heaven to earth, a miracle to show.So pleaseth she whoever cometh nigh her,She gives the heart a sweetness through the eyesWhich none can understand who doth not prove.And from her lip there seems indeed to moveA spirit sweet and in Love's very guise,Which goeth saying to the soul, 'Aspire!'"3
Splendor of the Father's glory,Bringing light with cheering ray,Light of light and fount of brightness,Day, illuminating day!In our prayers we call thee Father,Father of eternal glory,Father of a mighty grace:Heal our errors, we implore thee!Form our struggling, vague desires;Power of spiteful spirits break;Help us in life's straits, and give usGrace to suffer for thy sake!Christ for us shall be our food;Faith in him our drink shall be;Hopeful, joyful, let us drinkSoberness of ecstasy!Joyful shall our day go by,Purity its dawning light,Faith its fervid noontide glow,And for us shall be no night!4
"'Neath Saint Michael's watch is givenPeace on earth and peace in heaven."5
"Jesus, the very thought of theeWith sweetness fills my breast;But sweeter far thy face to see,And in thy presence rest!"Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,Nor can the memory findA sweeter sound than thy blest name,O Saviour of mankind!"O hope of every contrite heart,O joy of all the meek,To those who fall how kind thou art,How good to those who seek!"But what to those who find! Ah, thisNor tongue nor pen can show!The love of Jesus, what it isNone but his loved ones know."6
Jesus most beautiful, from thrones in glory,Seeking thy lost sheep, thou didst descend!Jesus most tender, shepherd most faithful,To thee, oh, draw thou me, that I may follow thee,Follow thee faithfully world without end!7
Hail, thou Star of Ocean,Thou forever virgin,Mother of the Lord!Blessed gate of Heaven,Take our heart's devotion!Virgin one and only,Meekest 'mid them all,From our sins set free,Make us pure like thee,Freed from passion's thrall!Grant that in pure living,Through safe paths below,Forever seeing Jesus,Rejoicing we may go!8
Cæsar Borgia was created Duc de Valentinois by Louis XII. of France.
9
This very ancient hymn is the fountain-head from which through various languages have trickled the various hymns of the Celestial City such as —
"Jerusalem, my happy home!"
and Quarles's —
"O mother dear, Jerusalem!"
10
Jesus, best comfort of my soul,Be Thou my only love,My sacred saviour from my sins,My door to heaven above!O lofty goodness, love divine,Blest is the soul made one with thine!Alas, how oft this sordid heartHath wounded thy pure eye!Yet for this heart upon the crossThou gav'st thyself to die!Ah, would I were extended thereUpon that cold, hard tree,Where I have seen Thee, gracious Lord,Breathe out thy life for me!Cross of my Lord, give room! give room!To Thee my flesh be given!Cleansed in thy fires of love and pain,My soul rise pure to heaven!Burn in my heart, celestial flame,With memories of Him,Till, from earth's dross refined, I riseTo join the seraphim!Ah, vanish each unworthy traceOf earthly care or pride,Leave only, graven on my heart,The Cross, the Crucified!11
"Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven."
