‘A supreme achievement of the Franciscan, and, indeed, of the religious verse of the Middle Ages,’ (according to F.J.E. Raby in his History of Christian Latin Poetry) the Stabat Mater has been variously attributed to Jacopone da Todi (c.1228-1306), Pope Innocent III (c.1160-1216), and St. Bonaventura (d. 1274), but its authorship remains unknown for certain. The poem’s vivid depiction of and sensitive empathy with the sufferings of a mother at the feet of her dying son has inspired many composers over the centuries, from Palestrina to Rossini and Dvorak.
The Stabat Mater, like the great Dies Irae of the Requiem, is a poem designed to be sung – originally to a plainchant melody. Each of the twenty stanzas has three lines; while each pair of stanzas rhymes in the pattern AAB CCB.
Mark Walker
Stabat Mater dolorosa,
iuxta crucem lacrimosa,
dum pendebat Filius.
Cuius animam gementem,
contristantem et dolentem,
pertransivit gladius.
O quam tristis et afflicta
Fuit illa benedicta
Mater Unigeniti.
Quae maerebat et dolebat,
et tremebat cum videbat
nati poenas incliti.
Quis est homo qui non fleret
Christi Matrem si videret
in tanto supplicio?
Quis non posset contristari,
Piam Matrem contemplari
dolentem cum Filio?
Pro peccatis Suae gentis
vidit Iesum in tormentis,
et flagellis subditum.
Vidit suum dulcem natum
morientem desolatum
dum emisit spiritum.
Eia Mater, fons amoris,
me sentire vim doloris,
fac, ut tecum lugeam.
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
in amando Christum Deum,
ut sibi complaceam.
Sancta Mater, istud agas,
crucifixi fige plagas
cordi meo valide.
Tui nati vulnerati,
tam dignati pro me pati
poenas mecum divide.
Fac me vere tecum flere
crucifixo condolere
donec ego vixero.
Iuxta crucem tecum stare,
te libenter sociare,
in planctu desidero.
Virgo virginum praeclara,
mihi iam non sis amara
fac me tecum plangere.
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,
passionis fac consortem,
et plagas recolere.
Fac me plagis vulnerari,
cruce hac inebriari
ob amorem Filii
Inflammatus et accensus
per te, Virgo, sim defensus
in die iudicii.
Fac me cruce custodiri,
morte Christi praemuniri,
confoveri gratia.
Quando corpus morietur,
fac ut animae donetur
paradisi gloria.
The sorrowful Mother was standing,
next to the cross weeping,
while the Son was hanging.
Whose soul groaning,
saddening and grieving,
The sword pierced through.
O how sad and desponding
Was that blessed
Mother of the only-begotten.
She was mourning and grieving,
and trembling while watching
the punishments of her famous son.
Is there any man who would not weep
if he saw the Mother of Christ
in such distress?
Who would not be sad,
contemplating the Devoted Mother
grieving with the Son?
For the sins of His race
She saw Jesus in torments,
and subjected to the whips.
She saw her sweet son
dying forsaken
while he let loose his spirit.
Oh Mother, fount of love,
make me feel the power of your sorrow,
So that I may mourn with you.
Grant that my heart may glow
in the loving of Christ God,
So that I may greatly please him.
Holy Mother, may you do that,
drive the wounds of the crucified
strongly through my heart.
Divide with me the wounds
of your wounded son
who so deigned to suffer for me.
Make me truly weep with you
feel the pain of the crucifixion
while I am alive.
I long to stand next to the cross with you,
To join willingly with you
in lamentation.
Admirable Virgin of virgins,
May you not be severe towards me,
make me grieve with you.
Grant that I may carry the death of Christ,
make me share in his suffering,
and reflect upon his wounds.
Make me wounded with his wounds,
Steeped in this cross
on account of the Son.
When I am burnt and set on fire
Through you, O Virgin, may I be defended
on the day of judgement.
Make me guarded by the cross,
fortified by the death of Christ,
cherished by His grace.
When my body will die,
grant that the glory of paradise
may be given to my soul.
Amen.
Chosen and translated by Mark Walker (www.pineapplepubs.co.uk).
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