Greco-Christian stream·Beguine Mystics·The Strofische Gedichten (Stanzaic Poems) of Hadewijch·Section V

Section V

Five Songs (XXI-XXV) covering the second third of the cycle. The arc moves through Hadewijch's most defiant warrior-stanza (XXI), her most autobiographical-isolation Song (XXII), the Now-may-God-counsel-us litany (XXIII), the Love is strong and I am weak abandonment-Song (XXIV), and the climactic Desire-vs-Reason dialectic of Song XXV:

• Song XXI — When summer's flowers have come to us, then are we in expectation of the fruit. The noble fier heart who would stand every storm of Love speaks in her own voice: Ic gruete u minne al minne / Ende beens fier ende stout / Ic verwinne noch u ghewout / Of ic scieter mi al inne — I greet you Love all Love; I am fier and bold; I shall yet overcome your might, or I shoot myself entirely into it. The geometric tour of Love's three dimensions (her wide width, her highest height, her deepest abyss). The bitter-scorpion image (Love now seems like the scorpion that shows fair countenance and then strikes sorely). Closes with the doctrine of Love's full pardon to those she takes to spend.
• Song XXII — My need is great and unknown to the people. They are cruel to me, for they would gladly part me from those whom the crachte of Love have all counseled me toward. They know it not, and I cannot teach them. One of the most autobiographical I-Songs in the corpus. The famous wilderness-passage: No peaceful wilderness was ever fashioned as Love can make in her landscape; Love appears as in a fleeing — one follows her, and she stays un-seen. Closes with the manifesto: My nature shall remain what she is until she attains it — though the people make her way so narrow.
• Song XXIII — The Nu moete ons god beraden refrain-Song. Now may God counsel us closes every stanza. The middle stanzas develop the fight against the turning; the Church-clerks' witness stanza: In all church-clerks' work I say and mark — how fair it would befit those who in Love worked strong work / they would in Love's orewoet / burn in her deepest floods / and melt away as wax-candles. The doctrine of those who yield enough to Love's kingdom — they abide in the hunger of Love's ground with full saturations.
• Song XXIV — The birds sing clear, and the flowers openly speak the season. In the right need of Love one tastes many a death — that is my belief. The personal middle stanza: From Love I am under; that is no wonder, for she is strong and I am weak; she makes me un-free of myself always against my willing. She does with me what she commands. My own is left to me not at all. What I was rich in before, in that I am poor — in Love all is lost. Closes with the doctrinal program: He who would attain Love, let him not give himself up; let him give himself wholly to Love at all hours, and shall labor without ending for what his heart has chosen — and give himself in pain and shame, in grief and joy, in Love's bonds; so shall be made known to him the fier being in Love's ground.
• Song XXV — The Desire-vs-Reason dialectic Song. Begherte en mach niet swighen stille / Ende redene ghevet haer claer den raet — Desire cannot be silent, and Reason gives her clear counsel. The middle stanzas weigh the contest: Pleasure would gladly shut the eyes and practice what she has; if Pleasure had Reason dead, she would have but little keep. The Beloved-and-Beloved fast-meeting stanza: Where Beloved meets Beloved so fast that Beloved cannot be without Beloved... and Reason then strikes back and shows the un-grown-up within — where Reason ever pleases unevenly weighed, there Love is most wounded. Closes with the famous image: Then there need go no strange peace-maker to settle the feud — and those who recognize this well-enough understand from their own creed.

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Song XXI

XXI.

When summer's flowers have come to us,
then are we in expectation of the fruit.
So does the fine noble heart
who would stand every storm of Love.
She speaks with fier sense:
I greet you Love all Love,
and I am fier and bold;
I shall yet overcome your might,
or I shoot myself entirely into it.

How could the fier heart fail of aught
who sets all to attain Love?
It could never come to her —
would you give over Love that which you shall give over,
as it must be altogether.
Ah, would your mountains become valleys,
and we then might see
your shows fulfilled wholly —
so would it come to us all well.
He must also draw very strongly who shall draw Love forth.

Her wide-width, her highest height, her deepest abyss —
he shall in every storm see-through the ways.
To him shall be known the wonder of her wonders;
that is to walk the joy-wide,
to run-it-through and to stand-it-fast;
to fly through the heights and to climb-through,
and to swim through the abyss —
to receive Love's all Love.

Ah, that high Love who so sweet appears,
that her sweetness all other sweetness consumes —
so wounds the heart and sinne that, of the storm she touches,
he desires anew the all-new encounter,
that he shrinks from no need,
nor pain nor anxiety nor death,
if he has not Love's success.
Ah, who works this — God give him good;
the fier heart was never timid.

I let Love be all that she is;
I cannot understand her gladness-wonders.
Though I may yet recover in myself,
she has many a great power-work done.
He must have his plagues
who bears it with her in peace;
he would not, with might, withstand her might —
for he who never fought against Love
never lived free days.

I give Love over to Love.
Now and always, the will follows her court.
Woe has befallen me; I thought to have been her lady at court.
Since I first chose her, I laid all therein in praise; yet I cannot follow her.
Now her rewards seem to me
like the scorpion's:
which shows fair countenance,
and afterward so sorely strikes.
Ah, what means such showings?

Had I luck in Love, that ever fled me
and was unready in my days,
I would yet overcome and live glad,
where I now wander in too-cruel misery.
Were it time, I would gladly take an end.
I wander with daring
where Love commands me
to follow her without success,
and she stays to me un-at-hand.

God give them all who love rightly good fortune.
Though I and many a man have so small a portion of Love,
those who know her wholly give all for all;
she gives, to whom she will, herself wholly.
Had her one who could —
what would it help to think on that,
which ever must be?
Her blows are all good;
but he who struck back would fight on.

It is unheard-of, now, that any complain of Love.
Her name is so famed that one bears her all.
Whom she disturbs now — I counsel that they do not speak of it;
it is unknown to them whom she does not so weigh-down.
But the one who is fier and bold,
let him see to his own doing
and parry the blow with the blow,
so he shall yet see the day
when Love brings him herself the atonement.

She whom Love takes to spend,
she gives him full pardon,
and makes him wholly her own free one.
So may we well say ah, me! —
how can we restrain ourselves from grumbling?

Song XXII

XXII.

My need is great, and unknown to the people.
They are cruel to me; for they would gladly part me
from what the crachte of Love have all counseled me toward.
They know it not, and I cannot teach them.
Thus must I live what I am —
what Love has brought into my sinne.
I am in that I will enjoy.

Whatever turning they might do to me for Love's sake,
therein I will endure without damage;
for I understand in the nobility of my sinne
that what I suffer is for the gain of high Love.
Therefore I will gladly give myself
in pain, in rest, in dying, in living,
for I know the command of high troth.

That command which I recognize in Love's nature
brings my sinne into adventure.
It has neither form nor cause nor figure;
yet it is in the taste as creature.
It is the matter of my gladness,
for which I always hook;
thus I lead my days in many sourness.

Of Love I complain no pain.
It stands for me always to be subject to her,
where she commands, loud or stilly.
One cannot know her but in seeming.
It is a wonder un-understood
that has thus my heart embraced,
and made wander in a glad wilderness.

No peaceful wilderness was ever shaped
as Love can make in her landscape.
For she causes desires to hook for her,
and without knowing makes her being taste.
She appears as in a fleeing —
one follows her, and she stays un-seen.
That makes miserable hearts ever wake.

Were I to spare any strength of Love's counsel,
all the loving ones would know that I did amiss.
I may now be master of what I then pleaded;
and so I would not overcome so great a damage.
Now I take delight in the nature
that Love gives me, and new diligence,
of which I shall nevermore be sated.

It grieves me that I cannot attain
in the knowing — I must lack my own self.
Though desire should yet wear my heart away,
and the strength of Love unwilling-leave me
— I shall yet know what draws me,
and often so un-gently wakes,
when I would gratify myself in rest.

If there were any who advised me, I would lament to them
upon myself; I cannot well bear
that Love led me ever to such high steps,
and I now meet her with so many cruel blows.
I have toward her neither luck nor success;
I do not know whether Love herself does this.
I fear infidelity's cruel false ambushes.

That I fear infidelity — that is small wonder.
She has pained me more than ever appeared;
for that I am disturbed from what I mean,
this does infidelity, and no other cause.
She has done me such damage —
shall I ever escape her,
that shall by high troth alone be.

What helps me that I sing of Love
and lengthen my own pain to myself?
With what need Love embraces me
before her might I have no plea.
I admit all that he shall admit
whose heart Love's strength has stolen.
What helps it that I constrain my nature?

For my nature shall ever remain
what she is, until she attains it —
though the people make her way so narrow.

Song XXIII

XXIII.

The season gives us success toward the good;
and if we wrought with the success good,
so might we overcome.
And were we then wise-in-watching,
so would the unwise be guarded
who do not yet know themselves —
for they know not what they love.
Thus we wander in all places.
Now may God counsel us.

There fights us sorely against the turning,
and if we sorely turn against the turning
— so must we make the turning die.
Understood we Love's whole teaching
and became we with that teaching whole,
we should win Love
and inherit in all her riches,
which we now all too long lack,
to our great damage.
Now may God counsel us.

We had great need of strength
that we, with strength, might drive forth
our great needs
that withstand us unto death.
Struck we against this withstanding,
nothing could escape us;
we should sufficiently receive Love
and stiffen against all strange ones
who might over-burden us.
Now may God counsel us.

He who sufficiently yields to Love's kingdom,
I say he reigns by withdrawing.
Of this troth gives witness;
for he so much resembles her,
and with that likeness so unified-with-her appears,
that one might find them both as one,
so that no sinne could part them.
He must dwell in the hunger of Love's ground
with all full saturations.
Now may God counsel us.

He who strives through Love's heights —
what with the striving he heightens,
he works openly.
For he with all the showings suffers,
and so with full suffering shows,
that he Love and all her ware
with Love's Love gazes upon,
and with full freedom without fear
her deepest ford may wade-through.
Now may God counsel us.

Had I thought-on my high lineage,
I should have followed the noble thoughts
and given myself to Love wholly,
with all the lease of might,
and obtained with the lease the might
to cleave-one-with Love's nature.
So might I have lived Love with Love
— which has too long now been kept from me
in my low deeds.
Now may God counsel us.

One finds in Love's hall a vale;
he who shall find in the vale
is of rich sinne.
Since Love first commanded me ill,
whoever wished me anything else hurt me.
I take the ill before all the gain;
for I know it for my nearest life,
since to wander has been commanded me by Love,
in climbing to the highest grades.
Now may God counsel us.

He who stands ready to take expectation
shall with high expectation take
the Love-with-Love's-working,
and so go to stand by storms
and stand-firm with going-through,
and become equally strong.
Thus, as I observe,
this is what the holy Church calls toward
all those who give themselves to her.
Now may God counsel us.

There approach us Love's bare hazards;
it is right that to us, of Love, fear should reveal,
that we may sinne on Love
who gives so clear her ware,
and with all whole clear ware
teaches all her highest customs.
Then we will gladly empty ourselves;
can we strangely tumble from the truth
against Love's setting?
Now may God counsel us.

In all church-clerks' work
— so I say, and let it be marked, clerk —
how fair it would befit those
who in Love worked strong work.
He would by that work so strong become,
and conquer without weariness:
he would in Love's orewoet
burn in her deepest floods
and melt away as wax-candles.
Now may God counsel us.

We are too at-ease in our keeping,
and take comfort at the first success.
Therefore must Love despise us.
Now may God counsel us.

Song XXIV

XXIV.

The birds sing clear,
and the flowers openly
tell us the season.
Those who at first altogether
were silent and were pale
have now great delight
that they have the season again
for which they so long had longed downward.
So fares it with all
who are taken in Love's need.

In Love's right need
one tastes many a death;
that is my belief.
He whom she touches in her nature
must in un-stillness
ever be,
and in great ungrace.
Help me Love with her counsel —
of those I am one
who hold the pain of Love in fief.

What can attain to him
whom Love thus has over-burdened
with her heavy weighing?
Whom she led at the start,
and showed great gain
upon her high step,
and now has thrown down,
so that he thinks not to come up again
— unless un-foreseen,
by Love's orewoet, it may happen.

What is the nearest counsel
that he may go-beside,
to him whom Love has thus embraced
and bound with her bond?
That he give himself into her hand,
and ever be subject
to all the constraint that Love has —
he who denies any pain of Love
that is openly in show,
he shall long be without Love.

By Love I am under;
that is no wonder to me;
for she is strong, and I am weak.
She does me un-free of myself ever against my willing.
She does with me what she commands.
My own is left to me not at all;
that I was rich-in before
— that I am poor in. In Love all is lost.

Both strange and friend,
whom I before served,
I am withdrawn from.
Honor and rest I have given up,
because I will live free
and in Love be received —
the high riches and the knowing,
which has bound me harm.
I cannot lack it;
I have nothing else; I must feed on Love.

And I am now given up
by all those who live;
that is openly in show.
Unless I in Love
may win nothing,
what then should I be?
I am now less than nothing in truth;
I am miserable, unless she provide for me.
I have no counsel; she must
give me that whereon I may live free.

The cruel strangers do to me
so unmeasured a grief
in this heavy misery
with their false counsel.
They have no mercy of me;
they make me many a hazard;
for they doom me with their blindness.
They cannot come to that —
to understand the Love
that with pleasure has embraced my heart.

He who would attain Love,
let him not let himself fail;
let him give himself wholly to Love at all times,
and shall labor
without ending
for what his heart has chosen,
and give himself in pain and in shame,
in grief and in joy, in Love's bonds.
So shall be made known to him
the fier being in Love's ground.

Song XXV

XXV.

In every season of the year,
however it goes with the season,
he has joy and dread
who suffers misery for free Love
and would gladly be with his Beloved
to sweeten his miserable days.
That which is not yet — that makes one cry ah me;
the being-that-shall-be costs the lament:
Ah, I am all yours, Beloved; be all mine,
as it pleases you.

He who would love must give himself
into her might where she commands;
be it in dying or in living,
where Love provides for his being,
to him is nothing else
than to live in free comfort and in constrained dread.
Love gladly repays what she promised
with her clear ware.
Ah, what Love bade be kept secret
brings her sweetness openly.

I wonder of sweet Love
that her sweetness conquers all things,
and yet she so undoes me from within,
and so little recognizes my heart's need.
She has so thrown me into the woe;
that I feel, I cannot believe.
The hidden ways Love sends me
— those are what rob me of myself.
The rumor, the high present
of the lowly-still makes me daze.

Her low stillness is unheard-of —
how high a rumor she makes.
Unless he alone has tasted it,
and Love in herself wholly has taken him,
and with deep touching so nearly attained
that he wholly feels himself in Love
— so she with wonder so through-tastes him —
ceases an hour the rumor therein.
Ah, soon desire awakes, which watches,
with your storm the inner sinne.

Pleasure would gladly close the eyes
and practice what she has —
might raging desire endure,
who ever lives in frenzy?
For she gives herself at every hour
to crying Ah Love, be all Love.
Reason also wakes her, who tells her:
Look here — this stands yet to be fulfilled.
Ah, where Reason denies desire,
that wounds most above all pain.

Desire cannot keep silent,
and Reason gives her clear counsel;
for she enlightens her with her will
and shows her the work of the highest deed.
Pleasure would gladly take trust
to practice her Beloved in sweet rest;
so Reason shows her the highest grade
and over-burdens her with the heaviest weights.
Ah, had Pleasure then Reason dead,
she would have but little keep.

But where Beloved with Beloved so fast meets
that Beloved cannot be without Beloved,
Beloved with Beloved so dear through-tastes,
that Beloved lives Beloved on Beloved's gaze —
and Reason then strikes back
and shows the un-grown-up within:
where Reason ever pleases unevenly weighed,
there Love is most wounded.
Ah, too heavy is the blow,
where Beloved-with-Beloved-Beloved-wholly-knows.

What shall the wounded Love be?
How can any give her counsel?
What physician shall heal her
who would gladly all Love live to Love,
and under Reason is so driven —
who goes against her with new storm
and shows her what she has lacked:
Look here — this should yet be wanting?
Ah, who shall give me, of Love,
counsel — and over Reason avenge?

Ah, God knows that no one may be
who over Reason may avenge anything.
She is herself Love's physician;
she can best heal all her ailings,
who follows with cunning all her ways
in every direction where she leads her.
To her shall she with new wonder speak:
Look here — busy yourself with this highest preparation.

Ah, there need no strange peace-maker go
to settle the feud.
And those who recognize this
understand enough from their own creed.

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