THE Lord Christ hung above my bed,
A crown of thorns upon His head,
Like precious blood the lamp burned red.
Libera me, Domine.
With herb of grace I strewed the floor.
Set holy water by the door,
Its chrism upon my brow I bore.
Libera me, Domine.
Because of the grape-flower’s subtle scent,
Its pagan spell of devilment;
Dear Christ! With every prayer it blent.
Libera me, Domine.
Because the wanton moon was bright,
I cloaked my casement from the light,
I locked the door and barred it tight.
Libera me, Domine.
Cloistered with Eternal Grace,
Alone with the blessing of God’s face —
Shut out the spell of the cursèd race!
Libera me, Domine.
It is the time when they frisk abroad,
The young desires in a frantic horde.
I have shut them out, O suffering Lord!
Libera me, Domine.
Shut out the wood and the green call,
Smell of the grape-flower over all.
Hush, my heart! A wild foot-fall!
Libera me, Domine.
I knelt upon the cold, hard floor;
My head drooped low, my knees were sore.
What rattled the latch? What shook the door?
Libera me, Domine.
A sudden gust blew on my face,
Breath of a forbidden place.
The lamp flared out. For Jesu’s grace!
Libera me, Domine.
Braced was the door with an iron bar,
Bolted and knopped with a cross and a star.
But my heart’s low postern was ajar.
Libera me, Domine.
The third cock crew, and night was late;
I swooned as I felt the hinges grate,
And something slipped through the postern gate.
Libera me, Domine.
The house was dark and cold as stone,
While over my bed, where the lamp had shone,
The Crucified hung stark and lone.
Miserere, Domine.
Evoë! But life is good!
My wild self leaped in lustihood,
Off with the gods of the odorous wood.
Miserere, Domine.