De Ecclesia

ON THE CHURCH. A vast, august roof, raised high on a hundred columns, joyful in the religion of the fathers, and a venerable temple, this the ruler of high Olympus gave to be his own. For the almighty God, who rules the affairs of men and gods with eternal commands, says, "Whither do you go? Here is a home for you; this altar will protect all." Here mothers and boys together, and maidens mingled, sing sacred songs and likewise lift their eyes to the stars; here voices are heard, here vows and prayers: night and day a clamor strikes the golden stars. After the first quiet and silence have fallen upon the building, the priest begins to speak from his divine mouth: "Receive these things in your minds, and attend with joyful spirits, mothers and men, boys and unwed maidens. Learn justice, admonished, and learn your hopes. I sing not of uncertain things: a god sent from the high aether, from the very throne of the king, the first path of salvation, whom for us she brought forth into the shores of light.

bearing the face and dress of a virgin—marvelous to say. She is inspired by the nearer breath of God and sings: thus a new offspring descends from high heaven. But when your age had already revealed you as a god, the wretches denied God, for whom that day was the last, when, raging and uttering dire curses, they dragged the innocent one with great clamor to the great king. He did nothing, for he willingly offered himself, that he might build this very thing: to betray the commands of God, the prophecies of earlier seers, and to undergo the hidden things of the earth. First among all, the one who happened to hold the scepter raised his hands, washed with water, to the stars, saying this: 'Indeed, nothing of the sort is found in justice: nor is it right. O wretches, what great madness is this, citizens? Let no day add me as a companion to such great and bold deeds. Your gifts for us! Rather, take this life of yours by whatever death you wish.' Then more and more, driven by great furies, they raise horrendous shouts to the stars and more and more demand punishments with blood. Amid these voices, in the midst of the raging tumult, leaning against the trunk of a tree—a trophy for you, great almighty father—he stretched out both hands and, calling upon you, poured out his life with much blood. And yet, meanwhile, your son's greatest care did not endure this sight; deeply moved and from on high, he gives a clear sign from heaven. For at that time the fiery sun had climbed to the middle of the sky.

Clouds suddenly snatch away the sky and the daylight, and black night, borne by her team, held the pole. The span of day lasted no more than three hours; then, retracing her path, she shone again in bright light, a better day, with rites now duly performed. Then he sets out on the journey ordained. He was already holding the rocky fields, safe by the black lake and the darkness of the groves. As soon as he came to the jaws of foul-smelling Avernus, then at last the vast gates, with their horribly creaking hinge, swing open of their own accord, and the columns of solid adamant, the shadowy caverns, gape wide within. He enters, leaving the cave; then a vast throng, when they see the god and his shining face through the shadows, tremble with great fear. He tarries no longer and speaks these words, soothing their grieving hearts with his words: "Do not tremble, my own, souls and ancestral shades: peace is won for you. For my father gave me such commands: he compelled me to approach these thresholds near you." Having said this, he dislodges the souls that sat along the long ridges, and, pitying them, sends them down into the open cave, and, obedient to his word, carries them back to the vaults above. Meanwhile, a great rumor suddenly flies, spread through the city, that he, having breathed his last in the deepest abodes, is now retracing his step and escaping to the upper air. Some are stunned in their minds; but the author of the bloodline proclaims himself the cause, the crime, and the head of the evils.

She ties a knot of shapeless death from a high beam, and for his merits, she yielded him from the upper regions. Meanwhile, the morning star was making his way to his comrades, and standing among them, he then spoke, raising his sacred mouth and shone in bright light, like an aged man in all respects, and suddenly to all (unexpectedly he said): “... shall I go again into tears? Behold, I am here, whom you seek. Behold, the commands of my dear parent are fulfilled. So go, O comrades, into the gifts of such great praises. Go,” he said, “splendid souls, mindful of the words of son and father, sprinkle with river water. I myself, when the time comes, will wash all in the font.” He spoke and raised himself into heaven on equal wings, hidden in a cloud; then he entered the royal halls, bearing gifts as victor, and the face of his dear father: he pressed kisses and clung to his right hand in an embrace. At his coming, you would see from the lowest seats the highest citadels overturned and walls turned, and all ornament consumed by crackling flame.

Then, however, countless nations and peoples, crowded together, are terrified by the sudden sight. The same king will give laws to all peoples equally and will compel them to confess whatever each, among the living, rejoiced in vain theft. But you, O chosen ones, for so great a name, with what remains, let us die and rush into the midst of arms: seeking a return through blood and sacrificing the soul. When he had spoken these words according to his merits, he gave an end to his mouth of praying. Others, grave with age, succeed as ministers: some cut into pieces and load the altars with gifts; then finally boys and fearful mothers in a long line stand around. When he had surveyed all of them, crowded together, with his hand, he first approaches the tables and begins himself. And after he first touched with his mouth to the brim, the nobles and all the priests receive, and the inexperienced boys: then the rest of the youth follows. Immediately, each of us, heading back to the roofs of our homes, we proceed and always celebrate a joyful honor. And when it was shouted out, 'Maro the younger!', I recited this on the spot: 'Do not, I beg you, do not drive me into such battles! For that one will always be a god to me, that one my master. For I remember—for we are not ignorant of previous evils—: a handsome shepherd, while he desired to surpass Phoebus in singing and calls the gods into contests with his song, conquered by the god, hung from a leafy branch with his limbs.