Eclogue to his Cell
O MEA cella, mihi habitote dulcis, amata,
Semper in aeternum, o mea cella, vale.
Untique te cingit ramis resonantibus arbos,
Silvula florigeris semper onusta comis.
Prata salutiferis florebunt omnia et herbis,
Quas medici quaerit dextra salutis ope.
Flumina te cingunt florentibus undique ripis,
Retia piscator qua sua tendit ovans.
Pomiferis redolent ramis tua claustra per hortos,
Lilia cum rosulis candida, mixta rubris.
Omne genus volucrum matutinas personat odas,
Atque creatorem laudat in ore Deum.
In te personuit quondam vox alma magistri,
Quae sacro sophiae tradidit ore libros.
In te temporibus certis laus sancta tonantis
Pacificis sonuit vocibus atque animis.
Te, mea cella, modo lacrimosis plango camenis,
Atque gemens casus pectore plango tuos,
Tu subito quoniam fugisti carmina vatum,
Atque ignota manus te modo tota tenet.
Te modo nec Flaccus nec vatis Homerus habebit,
Nec pueri musas per tua tecta canunt.
Vertitur omne decus saecli sic namque repente,
Omnia mutantur ordinibus variis.
Nil manet aeternum, nihil immutabile vere est.
Obscurat sacrum nox tenebrosa diem.
Decutit et flores subito hiems frigida pulcros,
Perturbat placidum et tristior aura mare.
Qua campis cervos agitabat sacra juventus,
Incumbit fessus nunc baculo senior.
Nos miseri, cur te fugitivum, mundus, amamus?
Tu fugis s nobis semper ubique ruens.
Tu fugiens fugias, Christum nos semper amemus,
Semper amor teneat pectora nostra Dei.
Ille pios famulos diro defendat ab hoste,
Ad caelum rapiens pectora nostra, suos;
Pectore quem pariter toto laudemus, amemus;
Nostra est ille pius gloria, vita, salus.
Farewell to his Cell
MY cell, my dearly lovely dwelling, farewell for ever,
my cell. The trees stand all round you with their
murmuring branches, a copse forever laden with flower-bearing
leaves. All your fields will bloom with health-bringing
herbs, which the hand of the physician plucks to cure
the sick. Streams with blossoming banks gird you
round, and there the cheerful angler stretches his
nets. Thy cioisters smell of apple-trees in the gardens,
and white lilies mingle with little red roses. Every kind
of bird strikes up his matin song and by his singing
praises God who made him. Once the kind voice of the
master was heard in you, reading the holy books with
devout lips. In you from time to time the holy praise
of the Almighty rose from peaceful voices and hearts.
My cell, I weep for you now in tearful songs, and
I groan as I bewail my misfortune; for you have suddenly
fled from the poets' songs and an unknown hand now
possesses you. No
longer now will Flaccus [Alcuin himself] or the poet Homer {Angilbert, Alcuin's
pupil] or the
youths come and sing under your roof. Thus suddenly
does all the beauty of the earth come to an end, and
all things are swept away one after another; nothing
lasts for ever, nothing indeed is immutable. Dark
night overwhelms even a holy day. Cold winter swiftly
cuts off the beautiful flowers and a most bitter
wind ruffles the calm sea. The devoted youth who once
chased stags across the fields now leans on a stick,
a tired old man. Wretched that we are, why do we love
you, O world, as you flee from us? You flee
from us, falling all the time and on every side. Keep
on fleeing if you wish. Let us love Christ always
and let the love of God possess our hearts for ever.
May he defend His faithful servants from the dread
enemy and snatch our souls away to heaven. Let us praise
and love him equally with our whole heart; in his
mercy he is our glory, our life, and our salvatlon.