His great poem is rarely spoken of as a whole, but in three portions, as if each were a complete work. The first is the long exordium, exhausting the pessimistic title (contempt of the world), and passing on to the second, where begins the real "Laus Patriae Coelestis." This being cut in two, making a third portion, has enriched the Christian world with two of its best hymns, "For Thee, O Dear, Dear Country," and "Jerusalem the Golden." Bernard wrote the medieval or church Latin in its prime of literary refinement, and its accent is so obvious and its rhythm so musical that even one ignorant of the language could pronounce it, and catch its rhymes. The "Contemptu Mundi" begins with these two lines, in a hexameter impossible to copy in translation: Hora novissima; tempora pessima sunt; Vigilemus! Ecce minaciter imminet Arbiter, Ille Supremus! 'Tis the last hour; the times are at their worst; Watch; lo the Judge Supreme stands threat'ning nigh! Or, as Dr. Neale paraphrases and softens it,-- The World is very evil, The times are waxing late, Be sober and keep vigil, The Judge is at the gate, --and, after the poet's long, dark diorama of the world's wicked condition, follows the "Praise of the Heavenly Fatherland," when a tender glory dawns upon the scene till it breaks into sunrise with the vision of the Golden City. All that an opulent and devout imagination can picture of the beauty and bounty of heaven, and all that faith can construct from the glimpses in the Revelation of its glory and happiness is poured forth in the lavish poetry of the inspired monk of Cluny-- Urbs Sion aurea, patria lactea, cive decora, Omne cor obruis, omnibus obstruis, et cor et ora. Nescio, nescio quae jubilatio lux tibi qualis, Quam socialia gaudia, gloria quam specialis. Jerusalem, the golden; With milk and honey blest; Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice opprest. I know not, O I know not What joys await us there, With radiancy of glory, With bliss beyond compare. They stand, those halls of Zion, All jubilant with song,[47] And bright with many an angel; And all the martyr throng. The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene; The pastures of the blessed Are decked in glorious sheen. * * * * * O sweet and blessed country, The home of God's elect! O sweet and blessed country, That eager hearts expect! Jesu, in mercy bring us To that dear land of rest, Who art, with God the Father, And Spirit, ever blest. [Footnote 47: In first editions, "_conjubilant_ with song."]