Sing, my tongue

I cannot claim the Troubador Knight's skills with the voice, nor even the Lute. I am not a musical man. But, as they say, "I knows wot I likes". And in my daily visits down into the cellars below the Tavern - to check the barrels and make sure no-one is pinching the wine bottles - it is my habit to make sure that everything is clean and tidy in the the Crypt, too.  And there, no-one can hear my croaking and wheezing as I let my tongue loose.

Hearing me at it can make a grown man weep, and I do ! The tears wet the floor for my mop.

It is not quite the same as when I mop the kitchen floor, as I was doing this evening in my cave below the mountain, in that I do not sing there, but I do my Gentleman's housekeeping to fine music.

The crypt singing is accompanied, of course, by a choir that one cannot see.

Pange Lingua Gloriosi

Sing, my tongue, the Saviour's glory.

This extraordinary Eucharistic hymn, by the great St. Thomas Aquinas, is a  favourite among the Latin Mass faithful. This version regrettably leaves out the second verse. The recording is from the CD illuminations, compiled by Dan Gibson. the Latin text and English translation follow: 

You are encouraged to sing along or at least hum.

Pange, lingua, gloriosi

Corporis mysterium,

Sanguinisque pretiosi,

quem in mundi pretium

fructus ventris generosi

Rex effudit Gentium.

(Sing, my tongue, the Savior's glory,

of His flesh the mystery sing;

of the Blood, all price exceeding,

shed by our immortal King,

destined, for the world's redemption,

from a noble womb to spring.)

Nobis datus, nobis natus

ex intacta Virgine,

et in mundo conversatus,

sparso verbi semine,

sui moras incolatus

miro clausit ordine.

(Of a pure and spotless Virgin

born for us on earth below,

He, as Man, with man conversing,

stayed, the seeds of truth to sow;

then He closed in solemn order

wondrously His life of woe.)

In supremae nocte coenae

recumbens cum fratribus

observata lege plene

cibis in legalibus,

cibum turbae duodenae

se dat suis manibus.

(On the night of that Last Supper,

seated with His chosen band,

He the Pascal victim eating,

first fulfills the Law's command;

then as Food to His Apostles

gives Himself with His own hand.)

Verbum caro, panem verum

verbo carnem efficit:

fitque sanguis Christi merum,

et si sensus deficit,

ad firmandum cor sincerum

sola fides sufficit.

(Word-made-Flesh, the bread of nature

by His word to Flesh He turns;

wine into His Blood He changes;

what though sense no change discerns?

Only be the heart in earnest,

faith her lesson quickly learns.)

Tantum ergo Sacramentum

veneremur cernui:

et antiquum documentum

novo cedat ritui:

praestet fides supplementum

sensuum defectui.

(Down in adoration falling,

This great Sacrament we hail,

Over ancient forms of worship

Newer rites of grace prevail;

Faith will tell us Christ is present,

When our human senses fail.)

Genitori, Genitoque

laus et jubilatio,

salus, honor, virtus quoque

sit et benedictio:

Procedenti ab utroque

compar sit laudatio.

Amen.

(To the everlasting Father,

And the Son who made us free

And the Spirit, God proceeding

From them Each eternally,

Be salvation, honor, blessing,

Might and endless majesty.

Amen. )

My song is nowhere near as pleasant, but He seems to approve nontheless.

Pax.