now, even as the full moon might rise
ere daylight doth to darkness fall,
sudden i saw with still surprise
within that shining city-wall,
the streets full-thronged in wondrous wise,
silent, with never a herald's call,
with virgins in the selfsame guise
as my beloved, sweet and small.
each head was crowned with coronal,
pearl-wrought, and every robe was white;
on each breast bound, imperial,
the pearl of price with great delight.
with great delight together going
on glassy golden streets they tread;
to a hundred thousand swiftly growing,
and all alike were they garmented:
the gladdest face who could be knowing?
the lamb did proudly pass ahead,
his seven horns of clear red gold glowing,
his robes like pearls high valuèd.
on toward the throne their way they thread,
none crowded in that band so bright,
but mild as maidens when mass is said,
so fared they forth with great delight.
the great delight his coming gave,
it were too much for me to tell.
when he approached the elders grave,
prone there before his feet they fell;
legions of summoned angels brave
swayed censers of the sweetest smell;
with music like a mighty wave,
all sang in praise of that gay jewel.
the hymn might strike through earth to hell
that with joy those hosts of heaven recite;
to praise the lamb i liked full well,
amid the group in great delight.
delighted, i would fain devise
his loveliness, with mind intent:
first was he, blithest, best to prize,
of all on whom man's speech is spent;
so nobly white his draperies,
such grace his simple glances lent;
but a wide, wet wound my gaze descries
beneath his heart, through his skin rent;
down his white side the blood was sent.
alas! i thought, what scorn or spite
could any human heart have bent
in such a deed to take delight?
the lamb's delight might no man doubt,
though that wide wound his hurt displayed,
from his fair face looked lovely out
glad glances, glorious, unafraid,
i looked upon his shining rout,
with fullest life so bright arrayed,
my little queen there moved about,
i had thought beside me in the glade.
ah lord! how much of mirth she made!
among her peers she was so white!
the stream i surely needs must wade,
for longing love, in great delight.