[Previous: lines 221-235]
Christ's arrival in Hell has sent its demons scattering in fear. The souls of the virtuous greet him with delight.
At casti circùm manes fulgore repente------------
lustrati passas tendunt ad sidera palmas,
laetitiaque fremunt subita, lacrymasque dedere
, nec saturare queunt animos oculosque tuendo.
Tum laeto ultorem propiùs clamore salutant [240]
Unà omnes: “Ut te, cœli lux clara sereni,
optatum aspicimus, nec nos spes nostra fefellit,
qui revehis mundo primo concessa parenti
munera, et humanum genus omne in pristina reddis
ignotasque vias aperis ad sidera cœli? [245]
Venisti aethereae facies tua lampadis instar
diffulsit, tandemque oculis lux reddita nostris.
Sed quibus exhaustum aerumnis, quantisque procellis
iactatum accipimus! (nigras ea fama sub oras
detulit). Indigno quissanctum vulnere corpus [250]
fœdavit? quaenam hasta tuo intepuisse cruore,
quod ferrum tulit? an tantum mortalibus ullis
in terris licuit scelus? ô quae clausa remotis
aequora littoribus terrarum cingitis orbem,
quae vos, quae tenuere morae? quibus abdita claustris, [255]
leto opifex tam crudeli cùm vester obiret?
Vos tum diluvio mortalia cuncta decebat
obruere, et terras penitus delere nocentes.
Nosne per haec, superi soboles certissima regis,
vulnera servamur?non ô non praemia tanti, [260]
non tanti ipsa salus erat olim nostra: tua ingens
haec pietas: adeon'tibi curae incommoda nostra,
o hominum dulcis requies, superumque voluptas?
Nos Patris aversi nostro irritavimus iras
crimine; tu diras solvisti sanguine poenas.” [265]
But the virtuous spirits there, his brightness,------------
purifying their souls, raised their hands to heaven,
and sang out, weeping tears of happiness:
they could not get enough of looking on him.
Then joyfully they hailed their avenger [240]
as one: “To you, clear light from serene skies
we look with all desire, our hope and prospect
who restores the world to our first parent’s gifts
returning humanity to its former goodness
and opening unknown paths to the stars! [245]
You have come, your face shining like the sun.
Finally the light has been returned to our eyes!
But how are you so wounded! what storms have
buffeted you! (for news reaches even these black
depths). Who dared inflict such indignity [250]
upon your sacred self? What iron blade dared grow
hot with your blood? How could any human
commit such world-crime? Oh, you great remote
Ocean encircling the earth’s far shores
what held you back? In what caves did you hide [255]
as your maker suffered so cruel a fate?
You could have flooded the entire mortal realm
overwhelmed them and their lands, ended it all!
Have we been saved, true son of God, by these
wounds? No, oh no! a prize not worth its price! [260]
Our salvation does not merit this: your vast
piety ought not to have to been concerned,
o sweet solace of men, delight of heaven!
It was we who provoked God’s anger with
our crime, while you have borne the punishment.” [265]
It may just be me, but I find all this ‘we’re not worthy! we’re not worthy!’-type abasement more than a little grating, and I have to suspect God does too. This is, I don't doubt, me projecting more than anything else. Garnder thinks the rather striking apostrophe to the ocean, urging it to rise up and drown all of humanity, draws on Magnus Felix Ennodius's Carmina (2.90.5 in fact), though I haven't been able to track down a copy and see for myself. Blame lockdown.
At the top: The Harrowing of Hell as depicted in the Petites Heures de Jean de Berry, the 14th-century illuminated manuscript commissioned by John, Duke of Berry.
[Next: lines 266-293]
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