This counterfeit mysticism, fed from dubious sources and calling itself love of God, taints the pure intuitions of some of the genuine mystics and metaphysical erotics; they were not always able to steer clear of spurious outgrowths. (Here, too, the psychological naivete of mediaeval times must to some extent be held responsible.) Conspicuous amongst these is St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who in his _Sermones in Canticum_ took the "Song of Songs" as a base for mystically-sexual imaginings. There is nothing really new in this direction. But I will cite a few stanzas written by St. Bernard which might equally well have come from one of the amorous nuns: TO THE SIDE-WOUND OF CHRIST. Lord, with my mouth I touch and worship Thee, With all the strength I have I cling to Thee, With all my love I plunge my heart in Thee, My very life blood would I draw from Thee, Oh, Jesus! Jesus! Draw me unto Thee! How sweet Thy savour is! Who tastes of Thee, Oh, Jesus Christ, can relish naught but Thee! Who tastes Thy living sweetness lives by Thee; All else is void; the soul must die for Thee, So faints my heart--so would I die for Thee! (_Transl. by_ EMILY MARY SHAPCOTE.) The greatest religious poet of all times after St. Bernard was Jacopone da Todi, who also, though rarely, revelled in fervid utterances. The Latin hymn, _Stabat Mater Speciosa_, ascribed to him, is spurious. I quote a translation taken from the Rosary of the B.V.M. Other Virgins far transcending, Virgin, be not thou unbending, To thy humble suppliant's suit. Grant me then, to thee united, By the love of Christ excited, Here to sing my jubilee. But he is undoubtedly the author of the following stanzas: Soaring upwards love-enkindled, Does the soul rejoice, afire In her glad triumphant flight. Earthly cares to naught have dwindled, Love's sweet footfall's drawing nigh her To espouse his heart's delight. All transformed and naked quite, Laughing low, with joy imbued, Pure, and like a snake renewed, Love divine will ever tend her. But poems like the following undoubtedly originated in a truly religious and pure sentiment: Enwrapt in love thine arms Him fast enfolding, So closely clasp Him that they loose Him never; And in thy heart His sacred image holding, Far from the path of sin thou'lt journey ever. His death in twain shall blast thy callous heart As once the solid rock He rent apart. The most distinguished among the fervid lovers of God of later times were the saints Jean de la Croix, Alfonso da Liguori, and Francois de Sales. The _Tract of the Love of God_, written by Francois de Sales, surpasses everything ever achieved in this direction.