Trench, in his Sacred Latin Poetry, has given us many of the best of his lyrics, so many and so various that we are made familiar with his characteristics. We seem to know him. The only one of these which I have selected for this little book is his poem on the Martyrdom of St. Stephen, which Trench calls a sublime composition; and we see that it well deserves the name, when, in imagination, we take the place of the old monk and become a spectator of that first martyrdom, passing with him from the present to that early dawn of Christianity, and from the description of the bloody scene, to the rapt ecstasy in which he apostrophizes the suffering saint and beholds the sympathizing Saviour in the opening heaven, upholding him and strengthening him in the triumph of his mar tyrdom. Dr. Trench accords to him the highest place among the writers of Latin Sacred Poetry, but not without some doubt whether that honor may not properly belong to Archbishop Hildebert. He would except the authors of the Dies Ira and the Stabat Mater, if the harps on which those unequalled strains were improvised did not seem to have been immediately broken into silence. The He died July 8, 1177, and his epitaph, written by himself, was preserved for several hundred years on the walls of the Abbey, near the door of the choir, where the echo of his hymns had been so often heard. tone of penitent humility, and the impressive, solemn, movement of the epitaph, have induced me to insert it here as a part of this sketch, to exhibit his character, by his own hand, as it was his last desire to appear. EPITAPHIUM. Hæres peccati, natura filius iræ, Exiliique reus, nascitur omnis homo. Unde superbit homo, cujus conceptio culpa, Nasci pœna, labor vita, necesse mori? Vana salus hominis, vanus decor, omnía vana— Inter vana nihil vanius est homineDum magis alludit præsentis gloria vitæ, Præterit, immo fugit,non fugit, immo perit. Post hominem vermis, post vermem fit cinis, heu, heu! Sic redit ad cinerem gloria nostra simul. Hic ego qui jaceo, miser et miserabilis Adam, Unam pro summo munere posco pre= cem Peccavi, fateor, veniam peto, parce fa= tenti, Parce pater; fratres parcite; parce Ieus! EPITAPH. An heir of sin and child of wrath by nature here below, A stranger every man is born-an exile's life to know. Whence doth he boast himself in pride whose thought is guilt, innate, Whose birth is pain, whose life is toil, and death his only fate? Vain health of man, vain beauty too, vain boast of earthly pride, Vain thing is man, among the vain, vainer than all beside. The glory of this present life, what time it doth delight, Doth quickly pass, not pass but fly, not fly but perish quite. And then, to man the worm succeeds, and after worms the dust, At once to dust he must return with every earthly trust. And I, poor Adam lying here, 'tis mercy all I need, One only prayer I now can make for heaven's last gift I plead, My sins confess, my pardon seek-oh let a sinner live! Father, and brothers in the faith, and God, oh God, forgive! DE. S. STEPHANO. Heri mundus exultavit, Heri chorus angelorum Falsos testes statuunt, Viperarum filii. Agonista, nulli cede— Certa certus de mercede, ST. STEPHEN. Yesterday the world, elated, Angels, then their voices raising, Stephen, proto-martyr, Deacon, Cruel Jews and infidels. They like beasts of prey were raging, Their secure defeat presaging, And of light the enemies— Lying witnesses providing, And with sharpened tongues deriding- And thy sure reward securing, Fear not witnesses abounding, All confute, with truth confounding Satan's desperate synagogue. |