Who tastes Thy living sweetness lives by Thee;
All else is void; the soul must die for Thee,
So faints my heart--so would I die for Thee!

(_Transl. by_ EMILY MARY SHAPCOTE.)

The greatest religious poet of all times after St. Bernard was Jacopone
da Todi, who also, though rarely, revelled in fervid utterances. The
Latin hymn, _Stabat Mater Speciosa_, ascribed to him, is spurious. I
quote a translation taken from the Rosary of the B.V.M.

Other Virgins far transcending,
Virgin, be not thou unbending,
To thy humble suppliant's suit.

Grant me then, to thee united,
By the love of Christ excited,
Here to sing my jubilee.

But he is undoubtedly the author of the following stanzas:

Soaring upwards love-enkindled,
Does the soul rejoice, afire
In her glad triumphant flight.
Earthly cares to naught have dwindled,
Love's sweet footfall's drawing nigh her
To espouse his heart's delight.
All transformed and naked quite,
Laughing low, with joy imbued,
Pure, and like a snake renewed,
Love divine will ever tend her.

But poems like the following undoubtedly originated in a truly religious
and pure sentiment:

Enwrapt in love thine arms Him fast enfolding,
So closely clasp Him that they loose Him never;
And in thy heart His sacred image holding,
Far from the path of sin thou'lt journey ever.
His death in twain shall blast thy callous heart
As once the solid rock He rent apart.

The most distinguished among the fervid lovers of God of later times
were the saints Jean de la Croix, Alfonso da Liguori, and Francois de
Sales. The _Tract of the Love of God_, written by Francois de Sales,
surpasses everything ever achieved in this direction.

I will not dilate further on this barren aspect of emotionalism so
easily traceable through the later centuries in many a Catholic and
Protestant sentimentalist, but will conclude this chapter with a brief
discussion of Novalis. If I mention this poet in this connexion it is
not because I desire to depreciate his genius, but because, possessing
as he did, in a rare degree, depth of feeling and power of expression,
he is an important witness of an unusual type. True, here and there his
poems are reminiscent of Jacopone, but he is not sufficiently ingenuous,
and is altogether too morbid to be classed with that ardent fanatic. He
shares with Jac