PROLOGUE

 

Inasmuch as this canticle seems to have been written with some fervour of love of God, whose wisdom and love are, as is said in the book of Wisdom,[9] so vast that they reach ‘from end unto end,’ and as the soul, taught and moved by Him, manifests the same abundance and strength in the words it uses, I do not purpose here to set forth all that greatness and fulness the spirit of love, which is fruitful, embodies in it. Yea, rather it would be foolishness to think that the language of love and the mystical intelligence—and that is what these stanzas are—can be at all explained in words of any kind, for the Spirit of our Lord who helps our weakness—as St. Paul saith[10]—dwelling in us makes petitions for us with groaning unutterable for that which we cannot well understand or grasp so as to be able to make it known. ‘The Spirit helpeth our infirmity . . . the Spirit Himself requesteth for us with groanings unspeakable.’ For who can describe that which He shows to loving souls in whom He dwells? Who can set forth in words that which He makes them feel? and, lastly, who can explain that for which they long?

 

2. Assuredly no one can do it; not even they themselves who experience it. That is the reason why they use figures of special comparisons and similitudes; they hide somewhat of that which they feel and in the abundance of the Spirit utter secret mysteries rather than express themselves in clear words.

 

3. And if these similitudes be not received in the simplicity of a loving mind, and in the sense in which they are uttered, they will seem to be effusions of folly rather than the language of reason; as any one may see in the divine Canticle of Solomon, and in others of the sacred books, wherein the Holy Ghost, because ordinary and common speech could not convey His meaning, uttered His mysteries in strange terms and similitudes. It follows from this, that after all that the holy doctors have said, and may say, no words of theirs can explain it; nor can words do it; and so, in general, all that is said falls far short of the meaning.

 

4. The stanzas that follow having been written under influence of that love which proceeds from the overflowing mystical intelligence, cannot be fully explained. Indeed I do not purpose any such thing, for my sole object is to throw some general light over them, which in my opinion is the better course. It is better to leave the outpourings of love in their own fulness, that every one may apply them according to the measure of his spirit and power, than to pare them down to one particular sense which is not suited to the taste of every one. And though I do put forth a particular explanation, still others are not to be bound by it. The mystical wisdom—that is, the love, of which these stanzas speak—does not require to be distinctly understood in order to produce the effect of love and tenderness in the soul, for it is in this respect like faith, by which we love God without a clear comprehension of Him.

 

5. I shall therefore be very concise, though now and then unable to avoid some prolixity where the subject requires it, and when the opportunity is offered of discussing and explaining certain points and effects of prayer: many of which being referred to in these stanzas, I must discuss some of them. I shall, however, pass over the more ordinary ones, and treat briefly of the more extraordinary to which they are subject who, by the mercy of God, have advanced beyond the state of beginners. This I do for two reasons: the first is, that much is already written concerning beginners; and the second is, that I am addressing those who have received from our Lord the grace of being led on from the elementary state and are led inwards to the bosom of His divine love.

 

6. I therefore trust, though I may discuss some points of scholastic theology relating to the interior commerce of the soul with God, that I am not using such language altogether in vain, and that it will be found profitable for pure spirituality. For though some may be altogether ignorant of scholastic theology by which the divine verities are explained, yet they are not ignorant of mystical theology, the science of love, by which those verities are not only learned, but at the same time are relished also.

 

7. And in order that what I am going to say may be the better received, I submit myself to higher judgments, and unreservedly to that of our holy mother the Church, intending to say nothing in reliance on my own personal experience, or on what I have observed in other spiritual persons, nor on what I have heard them say—though I intend to profit by all this—unless I can confirm it with the sanction of the divine writings, at least on those points which are most difficult of comprehension.

 

8. The method I propose to follow in the matter is this: first of all, to cite the words of the text and then to give that explanation of them which belongs to the subject before me. I shall now transcribe all the stanzas and place them at the beginning of this treatise. In the next place, I shall take each of them separately, and explain them line by line, each line in its proper place before the explanation.

 

　

　

SONG OF THE SOUL AND THE BRIDEGROOM

 

I

 

THE BRIDE

 

Where hast Thou hidden Thyself,

And abandoned me in my groaning, O my Beloved?

Thou hast fled like the hart,

Having wounded me.

I ran after Thee, crying; but Thou wert gone.

 

II

 

O shepherds, you who go

Through the sheepcots up the hill,

If you shall see Him

Whom I love the most,

Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.

 

III

 

In search of my Love

I will go over mountains and strands;

I will gather no flowers,

I will fear no wild beasts;

And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.

 

IV

 

O groves and thickets

Planted by the hand of the Beloved;

O verdant meads

Enamelled with flowers,

Tell me, has He passed by you?

 

V

 

ANSWER OF THE CREATURES

 

A thousand graces diffusing

He passed through the groves in haste,

And merely regarding them

As He passed

Clothed them with His beauty.

 

VI

 

THE BRIDE

 

Oh! who can heal me?

Give me at once Thyself,

Send me no more

A messenger

Who cannot tell me what I wish.

 

VII

 

All they who serve are telling me

Of Thy unnumbered graces;

And all wound me more and more,

And something leaves me dying,

I know not what, of which they are darkly speaking.

 

VIII

 

But how thou perseverest, O life,

Not living where thou livest;

The arrows bring death

Which thou receivest

From thy conceptions of the Beloved.

 

IX

 

Why, after wounding

This heart, hast Thou not healed it?

And why, after stealing it,

Hast Thou thus abandoned it,

And not carried away the stolen prey?

 

X

 

Quench Thou my troubles,

For no one else can soothe them;

And let mine eyes behold Thee,

For Thou art their light,

And I will keep them for Thee alone.

 

XI

 

Reveal Thy presence,

And let the vision and Thy beauty kill me,

Behold the malady

Of love is incurable

Except in Thy presence and before Thy face.

 

XII

 

O crystal well!

Oh that on Thy silvered surface

Thou wouldest mirror forth at once

Those eyes desired

Which are outlined in my heart!

 

XIII

 

Turn them away, O my Beloved!

I am on the wing:

 

 

THE BRIDEGROOM

 

Return, My Dove!

The wounded hart

Looms on the hill

In the air of thy flight and is refreshed.

 

XIV

 

My Beloved is the mountains,

The solitary wooded valleys,

The strange islands,

The roaring torrents,

The whisper of the amorous gales;

 

XV

 

The tranquil night

At the approaches of the dawn,

The silent music,

The murmuring solitude,

The supper which revives, and enkindles love.

 

XVI

 

Catch us the foxes,

For our vineyard hath flourished;

While of roses

We make a nosegay,

And let no one appear on the hill.

 

XVII

 

O killing north wind, cease!

Come, south wind, that awakenest love!

Blow through my garden,

And let its odours flow,

And the Beloved shall feed among the flowers.

 

XVIII

 

O nymphs of Judea!

While amid the flowers and the rose-trees

The amber sends forth its perfume,

Tarry in the suburbs,

And touch not our thresholds.

 

XIX

 

Hide thyself, O my Beloved!

Turn Thy face to the mountains,

Do not speak,

But regard the companions

Of her who is travelling amidst strange islands.

 

XX

 

THE BRIDEGROOM

 

Light-wing�d birds,

Lions, fawns, bounding does,

Mountains, valleys, strands,

Waters, winds, heat,

And the terrors that keep watch by night;

 

XXI

 

By the soft lyres

And the siren strains, I adjure you,

Let your fury cease,

And touch not the wall,

That the bride may sleep in greater security.

 

XXII

 

The bride has entered

The pleasant and desirable garden,

And there reposes to her heart’s content;

Her neck reclining

On the sweet arms of the Beloved.

 

XXIII

 

Beneath the apple-tree

There wert thou betrothed;

There I gave thee My hand,

And thou wert redeemed

Where thy mother was corrupted.

 

XXIV

 

THE BRIDE

 

Our bed is of flowers

By dens of lions encompassed,

Hung with purple,

Made in peace,

And crowned with a thousand shields of gold.

 

XXV

 

In Thy footsteps

The young ones run Thy way;

At the touch of the fire

And by the spiced wine,

The divine balsam flows.

 

XXVI

 

In the inner cellar

Of my Beloved have I drunk; and when I went forth

Over all the plain

I knew nothing,

And lost the flock I followed before.

 

XXVII

 

There He gave me His breasts,

There He taught me the science full of sweetness.

And there I gave to Him

Myself without reserve;

There I promised to be His bride.

 

XXVIII

 

My soul is occupied,

And all my substance in His service;

Now I guard no flock,

Nor have I any other employment:

My sole occupation is love.

 

XXIX

 

If, then, on the common land

I am no longer seen or found,

You will say that I am lost;

That, being enamoured,

I lost myself; and yet was found.

 

XXX

 

Of emeralds, and of flowers

In the early morning gathered,

We will make the garlands,

Flowering in Thy love,

And bound together with one hair of my head.

 

XXXI

 

By that one hair

Thou hast observed fluttering on my neck,

And on my neck regarded,

Thou wert captivated;

And wounded by one of my eyes.

 

XXXII

 

When Thou didst regard me,

Thine eyes imprinted in me Thy grace:

For this didst Thou love me again,

And thereby mine eyes did merit

To adore what in Thee they saw

 

XXXIII

 

Despise me not,

For if I was swarthy once

Thou canst regard me now;

Since Thou hast regarded me,

Grace and beauty hast Thou given me.

 

XXXIV

 

THE BRIDEGROOM

 

The little white dove

Has returned to the ark with the bough;

And now the turtle-dove

Its desired mate

On the green banks has found.

 

XXXV

 

In solitude she lived,

And in solitude built her nest;

And in solitude, alone

Hath the Beloved guided her,

In solitude also wounded with love.

 

XXXVI

 

THE BRIDE

 

Let us rejoice, O my Beloved!

Let us go forth to see ourselves in Thy beauty,

To the mountain and the hill,

Where the pure water flows:

Let us enter into the heart of the thicket.

 

XXXVII

 

We shall go at once

To the deep caverns of the rock

Which are all secret,

There we shall enter in

And taste of the new wine of the pomegranate.

 

XXXVIII

 

There thou wilt show me

That which my soul desired;

And there Thou wilt give at once,

O Thou, my life!

That which Thou gavest me the other day.

 

XXXIX

 

The breathing of the air,

The song of the sweet nightingale,

The grove and its beauty

In the serene night,

With the flame that consumes, and gives no pains.

 

XL

 

None saw it;

Neither did Aminadab appear

The siege was intermitted,

And the cavalry dismounted

At the sight of the waters.

 

 

ARGUMENT

 

These stanzas describe the career of a soul from its first entrance on the service of God till it comes to the final state of perfection—the spiritual marriage. They refer accordingly to the three states or ways of the spiritual training—the purgative, illuminative, and unitive ways, some properties and effects of which they explain.

 

The first stanzas relate to beginners—to the purgative way. The second to the advanced—to the state of spiritual betrothal; that is, the illuminative way. The next to the unitive way—that of the perfect, the spiritual Marriage. The unitive way, that of the perfect, follows the illuminative, which is that of the advanced.

 

The last stanzas treat of the beatific state, which only the already perfect soul aims at.

 

EXPLANATION OF THE STANZAS

 

NOTE

 

The soul, considering the obligations of its state, seeing that ‘the days of man are short;’[11] that the way of eternal life is strait;[12] that ‘the just man shall scarcely be saved;’[13] that the things of this world are empty and deceitful; that all die and perish like water poured on the ground;[14] that time is uncertain, the last account strict, perdition most easy, and salvation most difficult; and recognising also, on the other hand, the great debt that is owing to God, Who has created it solely for Himself, for which the service of its whole life is due, Who has redeemed it for Himself alone, for which it owes Him all else, and the correspondence of its will to His love; and remembering other innumerable blessings for which it acknowledges itself indebted to God even before it was born: and also that a great part of its life has been wasted, and that it will have to render an account of it all from beginning unto the end, to the payment of ‘the last farthing,’[15] when God shall ‘search Jerusalem with lamps;’[16] that it is already late, and perhaps the end of the day:[17] in order to remedy so great an evil, especially when it is conscious that God is grievously offended, and that He has hidden His face from it, because it would forget Him for the creature,–the soul, now touched with sorrow and inward sinking of the heart at the sight of its imminent risks and ruin, renouncing everything and casting them aside without delaying for a day, or even an hour, with fear and groanings uttered from the heart, and wounded with the love of God, begins to invoke the Beloved and says: