IDIOMELA

ON FRIDAY OF TYROPHAGUS,

THAT IS,

OF QUINQUAGESIMA.

At this period of the year the weeks are named, not from the Sundays that precede, but from those that follow, them. Quinquagesima is termed Tyrophagus, because up to that time, but not beyond, cheese is allowed. The Friday previous is appropriated to the Commemoration of All Holy Ascetes; in order, as the Synaxarion says, that, by the remembrance of their conflict, we may be invigorated for the race that is set before us.

Δεῦτε ἅπαντες πιστόι.

Hither, and with one accord,
Sing the servants of the LORD:
Sing each great ascetic sire;—
Anthony shall lead the choir:
Let Euthymius next him stand;
Then, in order, all the band.
Make we joyous celebration
Of their heavenly conversation;

Of their glory, how they rise,
Like another Paradise:

These the trees our GOD hath plac'd,
Trees, with fruit immortal grac'd;
Bringing forth, for CHRIST on high,
Flowers of Life that cannot die ;
With the sweetness that they fling
Mortal spirits nourishing.

Filled with GOD, and ever blest,
For our pardon make request !

Egypt, hail, thou faithful strand!
Hail, thou holy Libyan land!
Nurturing for the realm on high
Such a glorious company!
They by many a toil intense,
Chastity and continence,

Perfect men to GOD upreared,
Stars to guide us have appeared:
They, by many a glorious sign,
Many a beam of Power Divine,
To the earth's remotest shore
Far and wide their radiance pour.

Holy Fathers, bright and blest,
For our pardon make request !

By what skill of mortal tongue
Shall your wondrous acts be sung?
All the conflicts of the soul,

All your struggles towards the goal;
And your virtues' prize immense,
And your victories over sense,
How perpetual watch ye kept
Over passion, prayed and wept :
Yea, like very angels came,
Visible in earthly frame,

And with Satan girt for fight

Utterly o'erthrew his might.

Fam'd for signs and wonders rare,

Join to ours, great Saints, your prayer Ask that we, ye ever blest,

May attain the Land of Rest!

STICHERA AT THE FIRST VESPERS OF CHEESE SUNDAY.

(Quinquagesima.)

ADAM'S COMPLAINT.

The reader can hardly fail to be struck with the beautiful idea in the third stanza, where the foliage of Paradise is asked to make intercession for Adam's recall. The last stanza, Milton, as an universal scholar, doubtless had in his eye, in Eve's lamentation.

"The LORD my Maker, forming me of clay, By His own Breath the breath of life convey'd: O'er all the bright new world He gave me sway,

A little lower than the Angels made.

But Satan, using for his guile

The crafty serpent's cruel wile,

Deceiv'd me by the Tree;

And severed me from GOD and grace,

And wrought me death, and all my race,

As long as time shall be.

O Lover of the sons of men!

Forgive, and call me back again!

"In that same hour I lost the glorious stole Of innocence, that GOD's own Hands had made;

And now the tempter poisoning all my soul,
I sit, in fig leaves and in skins arrayed:
I sit condemn'd, distress'd, forsaken;
Must till the ground whence I was taken
By labour's daily sweat.

But Thou, That shalt hereafter come,
The Offspring of a Virgin-womb,
Have pity on me yet!

O turn on me those gracious eyes,
And call me back to Paradise!

"O glorious Paradise! O lovely clime!
O God-built mansions! Joy of every Saint!
Happy remembrance to all coming time!
Whisper, with all thy leaves, in cadence

faint,

One prayer to Him Who made them all,
One prayer for Adam in his fall!—

That He, Who formed thy gates of yore,
Would bid those gates unfold once more
That I had closed by sin: