Quando habeat gladium tua, Christe, tragoedia nullum, Quis fuerit gladius, Virgo beata, tuus? Namque nec ulla alias tibi sunt data vulnera, Virgo, Quam quae a vulneribus sunt data, Christe, tuis. Forsan quando senex jam caligantior esset, Quod Simeon gladium credidit, hasta fuit. Immo neque hasta fuit, neque clavus, sed neque spina: Hei mihi, spina tamen, clavus et hasta fuit. Nam queiscunque malis tua, Christe, tragoedia crevit, Omnia sunt gladius, Virgo beata, tuus. _A sword shall pierce through thy own soul._ Since in the tragedy Wrought upon Calvary, No sword, O Christ, hast Thou, Whence, then, shall come the blow To Mary, virgin-mother? Not any wounds are given, Save as her Son is riven: No sword, O Christ, hast Thou; Whence, then, shall come the blow To Mary, virgin-mother? Perchance the dim-ey'd seer By sword intended spear: No sword, O Christ, hast Thou; Whence, then, shall come the blow To Mary, virgin-mother? Not spear or nail or thorn, Yet by all these I'm torn: No sword, O Christ, hast Thou; O whence, then, comes the blow To Mary, virgin-mother? In the dread tragedy Wrought upon Calvary, Whate'er, O suff'ring Lord, Smote Thee, pierc'd as a sword Mary, the virgin-mother. G. CLV. _In sanguinem circumcisionis dominicae. Ad convivas, quos haec dies apud nos solennes habet._ Heus, conviva! bibin'? Maria haec, Mariaeque puellus, Mittunt de prelo musta bibenda suo. Una quidem est, toti quae par tamen unica mundo, Unica gutta, suo quae tremit orbiculo. O bibite hinc; quale aut quantum vos cunque bibistis, Credite mi, nil tam suave bibistis adhuc. O bibite et bibite, et restat tamen usque bibendum: Restat, quod poterit nulla domare sitis. Scilicet hic, mensura sitis, mensura bibendi est: Haec quantum cupias vina bibisse, bibis. _On the blood of the Lord's circumcision._ Ah, friend, wilt drink? Mary and her Babe divine Send from their press, for drinking, this new wine. One drop, yet this round world in worth resembling, A single drop in tiny circlet trembling. Drink hence; whate'er ye've drunk, how much soever, Trust me, such pleasant drink ye've met with never. Drink, drink again; to drink is left for you-- Is left what mortal thirst can ne'er subdue. Thirst's limit here will drinking's bound define: You drink all that you would drink of this wine. R. WI. CLVI. _Puer Jesus inter doctores._ Luc. ii. 46. Fallitur, ad mentum qui pendit quemque profundum, Ceu possint laeves nil sapuisse genae. Scilicet e barba male mensuratur Apollo; Et bene cum capitis stat nive, mentis hyems. Discat, et a tenero disci quoque posse magistro, Canitiem capitis nec putet esse caput.