C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Divine Narcissus
By Sister Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651–1695)
I follow still with faith untired.
My wandering steps may have no rest
Until I find my well-desired,
My loved Narcissus, whom in vain
I seek through shady grove and sunny plain.
With promise of my lost one’s sight.
If I may trust her gentle aid,
His presence caused the sweet delight
Which beams in every fragrant flower,
And sets a-tremble all this leafy bower.
The woodland, flower by flower, searched
With many a heart-consuming sigh,
By thorns empierced, by slime besmirched;
Each woe to new hope giving birth!
Ages my days, my pilgrimage the earth!
The paths I’ve trod with ceaseless pain,
My sighs and groans commingling both
With tears that wet my cheeks like rain!
Nay, slavery and prison oft
My unforgetting fealty madly scoffed!
E’en by the servants of his power,—
My mantle torn, my sceptre riven.
The watchers of his warden tower
My shoulders scourged with whips of flame,
And thrust me forth with Sin and Evil Fame.
Your sympathy I pray impart:
Should you my soul’s Beloved meet,
Tell him the longings of my heart;
The patience of my passion tell,
My tortured spirit and my anguish fell.
His brow is fair as rosy morn,
His bosom whiter than the snow,
With light like that by jasper borne.
His eyes are limpid as the dove’s,
And all their deep, unfathomed gleams are Love’s.
From rarest incense; and his hand
Is jeweled with the jacynth stone,
The badge of Glory’s knightly band,
The jewel of the sigh and tear,—
The crest of all who triumph over fear.
That lifts the temple dome on high;
His graceful gestures gently waft
A spell o’er every gazer’s eye.
O maids! perfections all combine
To mark the person of my Love divine!—
O’er all the better or the worse;
His god-like form will ever show him
The flower of the universe.
No other shepherd is there, here
Or elsewhere, equal to this Shepherd dear!
His swift and busy footsteps turns!
What shady bower he fleeth toward
When high the midday sunlight burns!
For sad and weary is my heart
With wandering through the forest’s every part.
[The action passes naturally to a culmination in the following scene of the resurrection of Narcissus after his supposed death in the fountain.]
What seek you, and what is your cause of woe?
Human Nature—The Master of my love in vain I seek.
I know not where the jealous Fates have hid
Him from my eager sight.
Grace—Lament not! weep not!
Nor seek among the dead the Eternal One.
Narcissus, thy Beloved, lives.
Thy pearly tears are precious to my sight,
And melt my heart to pity! Why does grief
Thus flood thy gentle eyes?
Human Nature—I weep, my lord,
For my Narcissus. Oh, could you but tell
Me where to seek for my lost love!
Narcissus—Dear spouse,
Has heaven’s glory shining on my brow
So masked me that you know me not?
Human Nature—O spouse adorable! My joy! My heart
Bows to the earth with its great happiness!
I kiss thy feet.
Narcissus—No, dear one, thou must not!
A little longer must thou wait, for I
Go now to join my Father on his throne.
Human Nature—Thou wilt leave me here alone? Dear Lord, I faint
To think without thine arm to shelter me
My enemy the serpent may destroy me.
With wary cunning for these many years.
Such evil to another, know my plan
Of safeguard for my chosen spouse. Speak, Grace,
The meaning of this parable which we
So far have acted. Tell my message.
Grace—List
Ye all! The master I obey.
Echo—Alas!
My woe grows heavier at thy words of dole.
Grace—So shall the beauty of Narcissus bloom
In sovereign state while he enjoys the bliss
Eternally prepared for him, the king
Of happiness, dispenser of all joys,
Perfection’s treasurer and crownèd cause
Of wonder-making miracles. The orbs
Whose crystal radiance lights the firmament
Shall be his lofty glory’s witnesses;
Their circled courses, as with pens of fire,
Shall write his deeds upon the vast of space;
The splendor of the morning stars, the flame
Of purifying fires, the storm-tossed plumes
Of ocean, the uplifted crags of earth,
And the unceasing music of the winds,
Shall praise him, and from him the myriad suns
And brilliant stars shall proudly borrow light.
The sapphire of the deep and placid lakes,
The pearly radiance of the flying mists,
Shall be the mirrors of his smile; the fields
Shall clothe themselves with flowers, and the peaks
With snow, to imitate his glory.
The wild things of the forest and the air
From den and eyrie shall adore his name.
The silent caverns of the deep shall teem
With servants of his word. The sea itself
Shall pile its jeweled waves aloft to make
The thunderous altars of the choir of storms.
All growing things—the lofty pine, the moss
That clings about the desert rock—shall teach
His worship; him the boundless main declares,
Receiving all the waters of the earth
To give them back in helpful rain as he
Receives in adoration and gives back
In bliss.
And this has ever been since time
And movement of created things began.
For all things hold their being from his care.
Should he not care, chaos would mar the world.
This is the happy year that sways the flowers,
The fear that tells the lily to grow pale
And brings a blush upon the rose.
He came
To see in man, creation’s prince, the best
Reflection of himself. God-Man, he saw,
And loved the Godlike image of himself.
Godlike to God the only worth can be.