The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 2 (of 8)Wordsworth, William
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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 2 (of 8)
Wordsworth, William
English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century
XXVI "Torment and shameful death to every one
This Provost doth for those bad Jews prepare
That of this murder wist, and that anon:
Such wickedness his judgments cannot spare; 180
Who will do evil, evil shall he bear;
Them therefore with wild horses did he draw,
And after that he hung them by the law.
XXVII "Upon his bier this Innocent doth lie
Before the altar while the Mass doth last: 185
The Abbot with his convent's company
Then sped themselves to bury him full fast;
And, when they holy water on him cast,
Yet spake this Child when sprinkled was the water;
And sang, O _Alma Redemptoris Mater!_ 190
XXVIII "This Abbot, for he was a holy man,
As all Monks are, or surely ought to be, [3]
In supplication to the Child began
Thus saying, 'O dear Child! I summon thee
In virtue of the holy Trinity 195
Tell me the cause why thou dost sing this hymn,
Since that thy throat is cut, as it doth seem.'
XXIX "'My throat is cut unto the bone, I trow,'
Said this young Child, 'and by the law of kind
I should have died, yea many hours ago; 200
But Jesus Christ, as in the books ye find,
Will that his glory last, and be in mind;
And, for the worship of his Mother dear,
Yet may I sing, _O Alma!_ loud and clear.
XXX "'This well of mercy, Jesu's Mother sweet, 205
After my knowledge I have loved alwày;
And in the hour when I my death did meet
To me she came, and thus to me did say,
"Thou in thy dying sing this holy lay,"
As ye have heard; and soon as I had sung 210
Methought she laid a grain upon my tongue.
XXXI "'Wherefore I sing, nor can from song refrain,
In honour of that blissful Maiden free,
Till from my tongue off-taken is the grain;
And after that thus said she unto me; 215
"My little Child, then will I come for thee
Soon as the grain from off thy tongue they take:
Be not dismayed, I will not thee forsake!"'
XXXII "This holy Monk, this Abbot--him mean I,
Touched then his tongue, and took away the grain; 220
And he gave up the ghost full peacefully;
And, when the Abbot had this wonder seen,
His salt tears trickled down like showers of rain;
And on his face he dropped upon the ground,
And still he lay as if he had been bound. 225
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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