Carmen Bucolicum De Virtute Signi Crocis Domini

A pastoral poem on the power of the sign of the cross of the Lord, by Severus Rhetor. Aegon, Buculus, Tityrus. Aegon. Why, Buculus, wandering alone, do you groan sadly, with eyes heavily cast down? Why do your cheeks stream with copious tears? Let one who loves you know. Buculus. Aegon, I beg you, allow me to bury deep silences in my sick feelings. For he who makes public his ills reopens a wound: he who keeps silent presses it shut. Aegon. The opposite is true of what you say: you do not think rightly. For a burden, when shared, becomes less heavy: and whatever is covered up burns more fiercely. Speech benefits griefs. Buculus. You know, Aegon, how powerful I was in flocks: how my cattle, wandering along whole rivers, would fill even the hollows of the valleys, the fields, and the ridges of the mountains. Now the hope of my help has utterly fallen: and what long labor produced for all the times of my life has been lost in two days. So swift is the course of evils. This dread plague is now said to be creeping. It has already laid low the Pannonians, also the Illyrians, and the Belgae heavily: and with impious course it now seeks us too.

Aegon. But you, who are accustomed to know with healthful juices how to drive away harmful destruction, why, not anticipating what is to be feared, have you not applied your healing hands? Buculus. No signs of such great fear are accessible, but what seizes, that disease both seizes and oppresses; it neither allows languishing nor permits delays. Thus death comes before the plague. I had placed beneath the wagons the strong bodies of oxen, with as much care for my reading as I could, oxen whose twin rattles of the mountain were harmonious with the tinkling sound, whose age was alike, whose coat was of the same color: the same gentleness, the same strength was in them, and the same fate, for in the middle of the road they fell, conquered by a like death. I was giving grain to the deeply softened soil. The clod was crumbly with abundant moisture. The plowshare had stretched the furrows easily; the plowshare had stuck nowhere. Suddenly the left-hand ox falls with a rush, whom another summer had seen tamed. I immediately abandon my sad wife, no longer fearing any further evil, but more quickly than said, death follows.

He who had always been whole and sound, then shaking his flanks with long blows, laid down his conquered head. AEGON. I am anguished, tormented, I grieve, I mourn. For my heart is consumed by your losses no less than my own; yet I think your flocks are safe for you. BUCULUS. I wretchedly go to that place where I am more sharply burdened. For it would have been some comfort, or at least the least of evils, if the offspring that the present plague snatched away would later be given to me. But who would think it true? I have seen the progeny likewise destroyed, I have seen a pregnant heifer fall headlong, I have seen two souls lost in one body. Here, refusing the spring, forgetful of the grass, a heifer wanders with failing knee, nor does she flee far; but she falls heavily, limping with the fetter of death. And on the other side, a calf that had just been weaving playful paths with leaps, as it approached its mother, soon drew the plague from the diseased udder. The mother, wounded by a sorrowful blow, when she saw the eyes of the calf closed, repeating her lowing and groaning piteously, collapsed; and she wished to die. Then, as if fearing that thirst would [afflict] the dry

His throat would have been crushed; yet even as he lies there, she brought her teats to the dead one. Piety thrives even after death. Hence the bull, the solid master of the herd and its father, with strong neck and lofty brow, rejoicing and pleasing himself more than too much, fell in the grassy meadow. As many leaves as the forest sheds, stripped bare when touched by icy north winds, as many fleeces as drift in thick snows, so numerous are the slaughters of the flocks. Now the whole ground is covered with corpses; the bodies swell with distended bellies; their eyes grow white with livid clouds; their legs stiffen with stretched hoof. Already flocks of grim and dire birds circle about, and packs of dogs press on to enjoy the torn entrails. Alas, why not also mine? What, I ask, what is it, that in varied manner the sad fate of death leaps over some and afflicts others? Behold, Tityrus, you drive your flock safe and happy. I see him myself. Tell me, Tityrus, what god snatched you away from these disasters, so that the plagues of the flocks, which have ravaged your neighbors, are none for you?

TITYRUS. The sign which they declare to be that of the Cross of God: Christ, who alone is worshipped in great cities, the glory of the eternal Godhead, whose only son he is. This sign, placed upon the foreheads of the middle, was the sure salvation of all flocks. And thus God, under this name, has been called the all-powerful Savior. Immediately savage diseases fled from the herds; nothing was permitted to sickness. Yet if you wish to entreat this God, it suffices to believe. Only faith in the words helps. The altar is not wet with any blood, nor is the disease of the flocks repelled by slaughter, but a simple purification of the mind enjoys the desired goods. AEGON. If you prove these things certain, Tityrus, I delay not at all, because I would serve true religions. I will gladly flee from the old error: for it is deceitful and empty. And already my mind hastens to visit the temples of the highest God: come, Bucule, we travel together a road not long, and we acknowledge the divinity of Christ. And join me with your favorable counsels: for why should I doubt that the same sign, perpetual through the age, which conquers diseased force, is also beneficial to man?