the meads, or murmurs 'mongst the trees;
Where clouds oppress, and withering tempests' breeze
From shore to shore.

Place me beneath the sunbeams' fiercest glare,
On arid sands, no dwelling anywhere,
Still Lalage's sweet smile, sweet voice _e'en there_
I will adore.

--Tr. William Greenwood

ROCK OF AGES

Iesu, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus,
Tu per lympham profluentem,
Tu per sanguinem tepentem,
In peccata mi redunda,
Tolle culpam, sordes munda.

Coram te nec iustus forem,
Quamvis tota vi laborem.
Nec si fide nunquam cesso,
Fletu stillans indefesso:
Tibi soli tantum munus:
Salva me, Salvator unus!

Nil in manu mecum fero
Sed me versus crucem gero;
Vestimenta nudus oro,
Opem debilis imploro;
Fontem Christi quaero immundus,
Nisi laves, moribundus.

Dum hos artus vita regit;
Quando nox sepulchre tegit;
Mortuos cum stare iubes;
Sedens iudex inter nubes;
Iesu, pro me perforatus,
Condar intra tuum latus.

--Toplady. Tr. by Gladstone

_DIES IRAE_[7]

Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sybilla.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando iudex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

Tuba, mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulcra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.

Mors stupebit, et natura,
Cum resurget creatura
Iudicanti responsura.

Liber scriptus proferetur,
Inquo totum continetur,
Unde mundus iudicetur.

Iudex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet, apparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus,
Quem patronum rogaturus,
Cum vix iustus sit securus?

Rex tremendae maiestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis!

Recordare, Iesu pie,
Quod sum causa tuae viae;
Ne me perdas illa die!

Quaerens me sedisti lassus,
Redemisti crucem passus:
Tantus labor non sit cassus!

Iuste iudex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis
Ante diem rationis!

--Thomas of Celano

[Footnote 7: "This marvelous hymn is the acknowledged masterpiece
of Latin poetry and the most sublime of all uninspired hymns."
--Schaff.]

Translation

Day of Wrath,--that Day of Days,--
When earth shall vanish in a blaze,
As David, with the Sibyl, says!

What a trembling will come o'er us,
When the Judge shall be before us,
For every hidden sin to score us!

The trumpet with its wondrous sound,
Piercing each sepulchral mound,
Shall summon all, the throne around.

Nature and death will stand aghast,
When those who