This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Robert Southwell, also Saint Robert Southwell
Come to your heaven, you heavenly quires! Earth hath the heaven of your desires; Remove your dwelling to your God, A stall is now His best abode; Sith men their homage do deny, Come, angels, all their faults supply.
Robert Southwell, also Saint Robert Southwell
Behold the father is his daughter's son, The bird that built the nest is hatched therein, The old of years an hour hath not outrun, Eternal life to live doth now begin, The Word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep, Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep. O dying souls, behold your living spring; O dazzled eyes, behold your sun of grace; Dull ears, attend what word this Word doth bring; Up, heavy hearts, with joy your joy embrace. From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs This life, this light, this Word, this joy repairs. Gift better than himself God doth not know; Gift better than his God no man can see. This gift doth here the giver given bestow; Gift to this gift let each receiver be. God is my gift, himself he freely gave me; God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me. Man altered was by sin from man to beast; Beast's food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh. Now God is flesh and lies in manger pressed As hay, the brutest sinner to refresh. O happy field wherein that fodder grew, Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew.
Better | Father | Force | God | Happy | Heaven | Joy | Life | Life | Man | Men | Mirth | Mortal | Sin | Taste | God | Old |
Robert Southwell, also Saint Robert Southwell
A VALE OF TEARS - A vale there is, enwrapt with dreadful shades, Which thick of mourning pines shrouds from the sun, Where hanging cliffs yield short and dumpish glades, And snowy flood with broken streams doth run. Where eye-room is from rock to cloudy sky, From thence to dales with stony ruins strew'd, Then to the crushèd water's frothy fry, Which tumbleth from the tops where snow is thaw'd. Where ears of other sound can have no choice, But various blust'ring of the stubborn wind In trees, in caves, in straits with divers noise; Which now doth hiss, now howl, now roar by kind. Where waters wrestle with encount'ring stones, That break their streams, and turn them into foam, The hollow clouds full fraught with thund'ring groans, With hideous thumps discharge their pregnant womb. And in the horror of this fearful quire Consists the music of this doleful place; All pleasant birds from thence their tunes retire, Where none but heavy notes have any grace. Resort there is of none but pilgrim wights, That pass with trembling foot and panting heart; With terror cast in cold and shivering frights, They judge the place to terror framed by art. Yet nature's work it is, of art untouch'd, So strait indeed, so vast unto the eye, With such disorder'd order strangely couch'd, And with such pleasing horror low and high, That who it views must needs remain aghast, Much at the work, more at the Maker's might; And muse how nature such a plot could cast Where nothing seemeth wrong, yet nothing right. A place for mated mindes, an only bower Where everything do soothe a dumpish mood; Earth lies forlorn, the cloudy sky doth lower, The wind here weeps, here sighs, here cries aloud. The struggling flood between the marble groans, Then roaring beats upon the craggy sides; A little off, amidst the pebble stones, With bubbling streams and purling noise it glides. The pines thick set, high grown and ever green, Still clothe the place with sad and mourning veil; Here gaping cliff, there mossy plain is seen, Here hope doth spring, and there again doth quail. Huge massy stones that hang by tickle stays, Still threaten fall, and seem to hang in fear; Some wither'd trees, ashamed of their decays, Bereft of green are forced gray coats to wear. Here crystal springs crept out of secret vein, Straight find some envious hole that hides their grace; Here searèd tufts lament the want of rain, There thunder-wrack gives terror to the place. All pangs and heavy passions here may find A thousand motives suiting to their griefs, To feed the sorrows of their troubled mind, And chase away dame Pleasure's vain reliefs. To plaining thoughts this vale a rest may be, To which from worldly joys they may retire; Where sorrow springs from water, stone and tree; Where everything with mourners doth conspire. Sit here, my soul, main streams of tears afloat, Here all thy sinful foils alone recount; Of solemn tunes make thou the doleful note, That, by thy ditties, dolour may amount. When echo shall repeat thy painful cries, Think that the very stones thy sins bewray, And now accuse thee with their sad replies, As heaven and earth shall in the latter day. Let former faults be fuel of thy fire, For grief in limbeck of thy heart to still Thy pensive thoughts and dumps of thy desire, And vapour tears up to thy eyes at will. Let tears to tunes, and pains to plaints be press'd, And let this be the burden of thy song,— Come, deep remorse, possess my sinful breast; Delights, adieu! I harbour'd you too long.
Art | Earth | Grief | Heart | Heaven | Hope | Little | Motives | Mourning | Music | Nature | Noise | Nothing | Order | Rest | Sorrow | Sound | Tears | Terror | Work | Art | Think |
The song Of Heaven is ever new; for daily thus, And nightly, new discoveries are made Of God's unbounded wisdom, power, and love, Which give the understanding larger room, And swell the hymn with ever-growing praise.
Heaven | Understanding |
Robert Service, fully Robert William Service
Lone amid the cafe's cheer, Sad of heart am I to-night; Dolefully I drink my beer, But no single line I write. There's the wretched rent to pay, Yet I glower at pen and ink: Oh, inspire me, Muse, I pray, It is later than you think! Hello! there's a pregnant phrase. Bravo! let me write it down; Hold it with a hopeful gaze, Gauge it with a fretful frown; Tune it to my lyric lyre . . . Ah! upon starvation's brink, How the words are dark and dire: It is later than you think. Weigh them well. . . . Behold yon band, Students drinking by the door, Madly merry, bock in hand, Saucers stacked to mark their score. Get you gone, you jolly scamps; Let your parting glasses clink; Seek your long neglected lamps: It is later than you think. Look again: yon dainty blonde, All allure and golden grace, Oh so willing to respond Should you turn a smiling face. Play your part, poor pretty doll; Feast and frolic, pose and prink; There's the Morgue to end it all, And it's later than you think. Yon's a playwright -- mark his face, Puffed and purple, tense and tired; Pasha-like he holds his place, Hated, envied and admired. How you gobble life, my friend; Wine, and woman soft and pink! Well, each tether has its end: Sir, it's later than you think. See yon living scarecrow pass With a wild and wolfish stare At each empty absinthe glass, As if he saw Heaven there. Poor damned wretch, to end your pain There is still the Greater Drink. Yonder waits the sanguine Seine . . . It is later than you think. Lastly, you who read; aye, you Who this very line may scan: Think of all you planned to do . . . Have you done the best you can? See! the tavern lights are low; Black's the night, and how you shrink! God! and is it time to go? Ah! the clock is always slow; It is later than you think; Sadly later than you think; Far, far later than you think.
Robert Southwell, also Saint Robert Southwell
Oh how much are the worldlings deceived that rejoice in the time of weeping, and make their place of imprisonment a palace of pleasure; that consider the examples of the saints as follies, and their end as dishonorable; that think to go to Heaven by the wide way that leadeth only to perdition!
Robert Southwell, also Saint Robert Southwell
The path to Heaven is narrow, rough and full of wearisome and trying ascents, nor can it be trodden without great toil; and therefore wrong is their way, gross their error, and assured their ruin who, after the testimony of so many thousands of saints, will not learn where to settle their footing.
The Trial By Existence - Even the bravest that are slain Shall not dissemble their surprise On waking to find valor reign, Even as on earth, in paradise; And where they sought without the sword Wide fields of asphodel fore’er, To find that the utmost reward Of daring should be still to dare. The light of heaven falls whole and white And is not shattered into dyes, The light for ever is morning light; The hills are verdured pasture-wise; The angel hosts with freshness go, And seek with laughter what to brave;— And binding all is the hushed snow Of the far-distant breaking wave. And from a cliff-top is proclaimed The gathering of the souls for birth, The trial by existence named, The obscuration upon earth. And the slant spirits trooping by In streams and cross- and counter-streams Can but give ear to that sweet cry For its suggestion of what dreams! And the more loitering are turned To view once more the sacrifice Of those who for some good discerned Will gladly give up paradise. And a white shimmering concourse rolls Toward the throne to witness there The speeding of devoted souls Which God makes his especial care. And none are taken but who will, Having first heard the life read out That opens earthward, good and ill, Beyond the shadow of a doubt; And very beautifully God limns, And tenderly, life’s little dream, But naught extenuates or dims, Setting the thing that is supreme. Nor is there wanting in the press Some spirit to stand simply forth, Heroic in its nakedness, Against the uttermost of earth. The tale of earth’s unhonored things Sounds nobler there than ’neath the sun; And the mind whirls and the heart sings, And a shout greets the daring one. But always God speaks at the end: ’One thought in agony of strife The bravest would have by for friend, The memory that he chose the life; But the pure fate to which you go Admits no memory of choice, Or the woe were not earthly woe To which you give the assenting voice.’ And so the choice must be again, But the last choice is still the same; And the awe passes wonder then, And a hush falls for all acclaim. And God has taken a flower of gold And broken it, and used therefrom The mystic link to bind and hold Spirit to matter till death come. ‘Tis of the essence of life here, Though we choose greatly, still to lack The lasting memory at all clear, That life has for us on the wrack Nothing but what we somehow chose; Thus are we wholly stripped of pride In the pain that has but one close, Bearing it crushed and mystified.
Agony | Awe | Choice | Daring | Death | Existence | Fate | God | Gold | Good | Heart | Heaven | Laughter | Life | Life | Light | Little | Memory | Mind | Pain | Pride | Reward | Sacrifice | Spirit | Thought | Valor | Valor | Witness | Woe | Wonder | Fate | Trial | God | Thought |
Robert Louis Stevenson, fully Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson
The Vagabond - Give to me the life I love, Let the lave go by me, Give the jolly heaven above And the byway nigh me. Bed in the bush with stars to see, Bread I dip in the river - There's the life for a man like me, There's the life for ever. Let the blow fall soon or late, Let what will be o'er me; Give the face of earth around And the road before me. Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I seek, the heaven above And the road below me. Or let autumn fall on me Where afield I linger, Silencing the bird on tree, Biting the blue finger. White as meal the frosty field - Warm the fireside haven - Not to autumn will I yield, Not to winter even! Let the blow fall soon or late, Let what will be o'er me; Give the face of earth around, And the road before me. Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I ask, the heaven above And the road below me.
Fragmentary Blue - Why make so much of fragmentary blue In here and there a bird, or butterfly, Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye, When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue? Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)-- Though some savants make earth include the sky; And blue so far above us comes so high, It only gives our wish for blue a whet.
Robert Service, fully Robert William Service
Our breath is brief, and being so Let's make our heaven here below, And lavish kindness as we go.
But yield who will to their separation, My object in living is to unite My avocation and my vocation As my two eyes make one in sight. Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future's sakes.
Heaven | Love | Mortal | Need | Object | Play | Will | Work |
For as one star another far exceeds, So souls in heaven are placed by their deeds.
Heaven |
Salomon ibn Gabirol, aka Solomon ben Judah or Avicebron
O God, my countenance falleth, When I remember all wherein I have provoked Thee. For all the good which Thou hast bestowed on me I have requited Thee with evil. For Thou hast created me not from necessity, but from grace, And not by compulsion of circumstance But by favour and love. And before I was, With Thy mercies didst Thou precede me, And breathe into me a spirit and call me into being, And after I came forth into the light of the world Thou didst not forsake me, But like a tender father didst Thou watch over my growing up, And as a nurse fostereth a suckling didst Thou foster me. Upon the breasts of my mother Thou madest me rest trustfully, And with Thy delight didst satisfy me. And when I essayed my feet, Thou didst strengthen my standing And didst take me in Thine arms and teach me to walk. And wisdom and discipline didst Thou impart to me, And from all trouble and distress didst Thou relieve me, And at the time of the passing away of Thy wrath In the shadow of Thy hand didst Thou hide me, And from how many sorrows concealed from mine eyes didst Thou deliver me! For before the hardship came Thou didst prepare the remedy for my distress all unbeknown to me, And when from some injury I was unguarded, Thou didst guard me, And when I came within the fangs of lions Thou didst break the teeth of the whelps and deliver me thence, And when evil and constant distress anguished me, Thou hast freely healed me, And when Thy dreadful judgment came upon the world, Thou didst deliver me from the sword And didst save me from the pestilence, And in famine didst feed me, And with plenty sustain me. And when I provoked Thee, Thou didst chastise me as a father chastiseth his son, And when I called out from the depths of my sorrow, My soul was precious in Thy sight, Nor didst Thou send me empty away. But all this didst Thou yet exceed and add to When Thou gavest me a perfect faith To believe that Thou art the God of Truth And that Thy Law is true and Thy prophets are true. For Thou hast not set my portion with the rebels and those who rise up against Thee And the foolish multitude that blaspheme Thy name; Who make mock of Thy law, And contend with Thy servants, And give the lie to Thy prophets, Making a show of innocence But with cunning below, Exhibiting a pure and stainless soul, While underneath lurketh the bright leprous spot: Like to a vessel full of shameful things, Washed on the outside with the waters of deceit, And defiling all that is within.
Salomon ibn Gabirol, aka Solomon ben Judah or Avicebron
Who shall understand the mysteries of Thy creations? For Thou hast exalted above the ninth sphere the sphere of Intelligence. It is the Temple confronting us, "The tenth that shall be sacred to the Lord," It is the Sphere transcending height, To which conception cannot reach, And there stands the veiled palanquin of Thy glory. From the silver of Truth hast Thou cast it, And of the gold of Reason hast Thou wrought its arms, And on a pillar of Righteousness set its cushions And from Thy power is its existence, And from and toward Thee its yearning, "And unto Thee shall be its desire."
Salomon ibn Gabirol, aka Solomon ben Judah or Avicebron
I look for you early, my rock and my refuge, offering you worship morning and night; before your vastness I come confused and afraid for you see the thoughts of my heart What could the heart and tongue compose, or spirit’s strength within me to suit you? But song soothes you and so I’ll give praise to your being as long as your breath-in-me moves.
Salomon ibn Gabirol, aka Solomon ben Judah or Avicebron
FOR A MARRIAGE - Send to the prince’s daughter Her ruddy, fair-eyed king, Like a fruitful branch he blossoms, Transplanted to a spring. Thy Torah has his worship, He runs, to taste its charms, Before Thee like a warrior, Accoutred in his arms. I day by day am waiting Salvation’s promised day, Enquiring how and whence it Will come to be my stay. Restore the tortured People To the friend of her youth divine, And bring the two together To the house of joy and wine.
Angels | Awe | Earth | Fear | Good | Greatness | Heaven | Little | Praise | Soul |
Salomon ibn Gabirol, aka Solomon ben Judah or Avicebron
Ask of Me, beautiful mouth, What dost thou ask of Me? For thy suppliant cry Hath ascended on high Inclining My ear to thy plea. First with the lion we met, Next came the leopard’s leap, We were fain to take flight From our garden’s delight And into a hiding-place creep. Hardly these creatures had passed, Sated with Judah’s spoil, Than the wild ass we feared Out of midnight appeared To trample and dwell on our soil. Ishmael’s offspring command Back to his Arab land, As his mother of old To her mistress was told To return and submit to her hand.
Art | Day | Dread | Glory | Heaven | Omnipotence | Praise | Will | Art |
Salomon ibn Gabirol, aka Solomon ben Judah or Avicebron
Who shall declare Thy righteousness? For Thou hast compassed the firmament of the moon with a second sphere Without deviation or infraction, And within it is a star called Mercury, And its measure to the earth is like one to twenty-two thousand. And it completeth its turbulent course in ten months And is the stirrer up in the world of strifes and contentions And enmities and cries of complaint, And it giveth the force to obtain power and to heap up wealth, To gather riches and to lay up abundance, According to the command of Him who created it to be His minister As a servant before a master. And it is the star of prudence and wisdom, "Giving subtlety to the simple And to the young man knowledge and discretion."
Earth | Heaven | Light | Lord | Order | Rule | Time | Words |