Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, STABAT MATER SPECIOSA, by JACOPONE DA TODI


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

STABAT MATER SPECIOSA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Stood the lovely mother smiling
Last Line: To the vision of his face!
Alternate Author Name(s): Jacopo Dei Benedeti; Bebedetti, Jacopo
Subject(s): Christmas; Jesus Christ; Mary. Mother Of Jesus; Women In The Bible; Nativity, The; Virgin Mary


STOOD the lovely Mother smiling
By the Manger where beguiling
Lay her little one at rest;
All her soul its gladness voicing;
As the gleam of her rejoicing
Swept across her gentle breast.

O how joyous she, The Blesséd
And Immaculate, caresséd
Him that was her only Son!
How her heart exulted for Him—
How she bent enraptured o'er Him,
Born of her, The Holy One!

Who is there that contemplating
Christ's own Mother jubilating
Would not share in such a joy?
Who beholding could be other
Than entranced with Christ's own Mother
Fondling her Immortal Boy.

Through the sins of man, His creatures,
She beholds the Christ-Child's features
'Mid the breathing kine and cold;
Sees her darling born deploring;
And the place of His adoring
But a miserable fold.

"Born is Christ within a stable!"
Hark, the joy immensurable—
Heaven's townfolk sing around!
There anear the Maid the Elder
Stood in silence and beheld her,
Wondering with her at the sound.

Would, O Mother,—Love-Fount tender!
Thou to me wouldst ardour render
So my breast might glow as thine!
Till my heart for love inflaming
Might be also made unblaming
For His gentle head divine.

Blesséd Mother—thou art playing
Just as though no wounds are staying
To be fixed upon thy heart;
Of thy Son the heaven-descended
To the Manger unattended—
Of His sorrows, grant me part!

Grant me all my life's full measure
Jesukin that I may treasure
Gladly on my breast to strain:
Fervor like to thine to fill me,
Grant thine Infant's arms to thrill me
Whilst in exile I remain!

Virgin of all Virgins Fairest,—
Nay, withhold not Him thou bearest,
Let thy Babe of Paradise
By my arms be soft surrounded—
Him,—whose birth hath Death confounded
At the Final Sacrifice!

Grant, as thine, to slake my yearning,
With thy Child in rapture turning
In the joyous surge of grace;
All inflamed and love-enkindled—
Every mortal impulse dwindled—
Let me share in such embrace.

Hark ye,—all ye Manger lovers,
Shepherds leave your watchful covers—
Join the Voices of the Night!
He in taking birth hath heard you;
Chant, and, with His Chosen, gird you
For the Fatherland of Light!

When thy Son hath ta'en and healed me,
And the Word of God doth shield me,
Grant I be confirmed in Grace!
When the body's life is ended,
Be my soul by thee attended
To the Vision of His Face!





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