Stabat Mater Dolorosa by Pergelosi
Stabat
mater dolorosa
juxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius.
Cuius
animam gementem,
contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius.
O quam
tristis et afflicta
fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti!
Quae
mœrebat et dolebat,
pia Mater, dum videbat nati pœnas inclyti.
Quis
est homo qui non fleret,
matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio?
Quis
non posset contristari
Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio?
Pro
peccatis suæ gentis
vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum.
Vidit
suum dulcem Natum
moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum.
Eia,
Mater, fons amoris
me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam.
Fac, ut
ardeat cor meum
in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam.
Sancta
Mater, istud agas,
crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide.
Tui
Nati vulnerati,
tam dignati pro me pati, pœnas mecum divide.
Fac me
tecum pie flere,
crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero.
Juxta
Crucem tecum stare,
et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero.
Virgo
virginum præclara,
mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere.
Fac, ut
portem Christi mortem,
passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere.
Fac me
plagis vulnerari,
fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii.
Flammis
ne urar succensus,
per te, Virgo, sim defensus in die iudicii.
Christe,
cum sit hinc exire,
da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriæ.
Quando
corpus morietur,
fac, ut animæ donetur paradisi gloria. Amen. |
At the
Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to her Son to the last.
Through
her heart, His sorrow sharing,
all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed.
O how
sad and sore distressed
was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One.
Christ
above in torment hangs,
she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son.
Is
there one who would not weep,
whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Can the
human heart refrain
from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold?
For the
sins of His own nation,
She saw Jesus wracked with torment, All with scourges rent:
She
beheld her tender Child,
Saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent.
O thou
Mother! fount of love!
Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord:
Make me
feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord.
Holy
Mother! pierce me through,
in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified:
Let me
share with thee His pain,
who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died.
Let me
mingle tears with thee,
mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live:
By the
Cross with thee to stay,
there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give.
Virgin
of all virgins blest!,
Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine;
Let me,
to my latest breath,
in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine.
Wounded
with His every wound,
steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away;
Be to
me, O Virgin, nigh,
lest in flames I burn and die, in His awful Judgment Day.
Christ,
when Thou shalt call me hence,
be Thy Mother my defense, be Thy Cross my victory;
While
my body here decays,
may my soul Thy goodness praise, Safe in Paradise with Thee.
Translation
by Edward Caswall
Lyra Catholica (1849) |
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