Adam of Saint Victor's Song for the Patron Saint of Philosophers

Vox sonora nostri chori

Nostro sonet conditori

Qui disponit omnia

Per quem dimicat imbellis

Per quem datur et puellis

De viris victoria

Per quem plebs Alexandrina

Feminae non feminina
Stupuit ingenia
Quum beata Catharina
Doctos vinceret doctrina

Ferrum patientia

Haec et gloriam parentum
Pulchrum dedit ornamentum
Morum privilegia  
Clara per progenitores
Claruit per sacros mores  
Ampliori gratia

Florem teneri decoris
Lectionis et laboris
Attrivere studia:
Nam perlegit disciplinas  
Saeculares et divinas
In adolescentia

Vas electum vas virtuum
Reputavit sicut lutem
Bona transitoria
Et reduxit in contemptum
Patris opes et parentum
Larga patrimonia

Vasis oleum includens
Virgo sapiens et prudens
Sponso pergit obvia
Ut adventus ejus hora
Praeparata sine mora
Intret ad convivia

Sistitur imperatori
Cupiens pro Christo mori
Cujus in praesentia
Quinquaginta sapientes
Mutos reddit et silentes
Virginis facundia

Carceris horrendi claustrum
Et rotarum triste plaustrum
Famem et jejunia 
Et quaecumque finut ei
Sustinet amore Dei
Eadem ad omnia

Torta superat tortorem
Superat imperatorem

Feminae constantia
Cruciatur imperator
Quia cedit cruciator
Nec valent supplicia

Tandem capite punitur
Et dum morte mors finitur
Vitae subit gaudia
Angelis mox fuit curae
Dare corpus sepulturae
Terra procul alia

Oleum ex ipsa manat
Quod infirmos multos sanat
Evidenti gratia
Bonum nobis dat unguentum
Si per suum interventum
Nostra sanet vitia

Amen

And then, foolishly inspired by the Ballad of the White Horse:

To the songs of old Sonora

Neither Alkoran nor Torah
Brought the Maker’s secret name.
Men of desert and of river
Had no prophet to deliver         
Wisdom from a bush aflame.  

Man must serve some truth or error
When he wakes to awe and terror
Like the grass upon the rain:
In the south of changeless weathers
Cruel men of gold and feathers  
Served their gods with blood and pain.

  
Spirits of the wind and water 
Cactus wren and bear and otter 
Had no hunger for the slain.
Men of desert and of river
Sung of Elder Brother, giver
of all arts that men can claim.

Elder Brother uncreated
Who the men of old had hated
Who had died and rose again.
But he was a shadow only
Of that Elder Brother holy
Who was God and Man the same.

Just an echo of that other
Everlasting Elder Brother
Who told stories when he came.
Stories of the world’s restorer
Brought at last to old Sonora
From the Virgin’s second Spain.

From beyond the furthest ocean
For the one true good’s promotion
Came a herald of His reign:
Men of desert and of river
Heard the news of their forgiver
Who had healed the blind and lame.

In that time of new creations
For the use of distant nations
Father Kino gave the name
Of his elder sister’s patron
To fair mountains which that matron
Never saw above the plain.

The Mountains of the Frogs they knew
He christened for a maiden who
Had won a martyr’s lasting fame.
And so for many times and places
Babad Do’ag it replaces
And a Christlike girl proclaims.

Raise your voices loud in chorus
To Him who made all things for us!
Praise His high and holy name!
He who from the meek and lowly
To His glory, surely, slowly  
Puts the strong and proud to shame.

Long ago they were astounded
At that maiden who expounded
Truth against the sophists vain.
Who confounded each deception
With a crystal clear perception
For both faith and reason’s gain.

There in Alexander’s city 
She made known the boundless pity
Of the God who knew Man’s pain.  
Made more noble on the basis
Of His overflowing graces  
Spirit flaring into flame.

Tender in her youth and beauty
Yet unsparing in her duty
To those queens of science twain:
All the learning of creation  
And the Father’s revelation
By her labour did attain.

Chosen vessel for His glory
Scorning all the transitory
Goods that others strive to gain.
Caring nothing for those riches
Earthbound men aspire to, which is
Madness to the carnal brain.

Like the virgins that He told of
Who their lamps kept prudent hold of
And good store of oil retained
Watchful for the King’s returning
So that with their lamps bright burning
They might herald in his train.

Brought before the mighty Caesar
Yet the cruel judgment pleased her
For a martyr’s crown remained.
Fifty sages held enlightened
Only stood like rabbits frightened
As she scorned the world’s refrain.

 
Cast denied of all provision
In a foul and noisome prison
Flayed by blows that fell like rain  
For the love of God enduring
Scourging, starving, and immuring;
Never broken by her pain.

Seeing how she bore her torment
Stirred the virtues lying dormant
In those come to watch the game.
Each one humbled to repentance
Was sent down to share her sentence
As cruel Caesar’s rage inflamed.

Broken by the tyrant’s hatred
With her dead she extirpated
Death to rise again like grain.
Angels bore her body yonder
To a mountain safe from plunder
There to wait the trumpet’s strain.

Oil there from her body flowing
Healed the ills of pilgrims going
To that mount where man attained
Knowledge of the law of Moses:
Even so her virtue shows us
How our loss can be regained.

You who dwell beneath her ranges
Serve the God who never changes
But all changing things sustains.
Sisters, brothers, do no falter!
Burn no incense at the altar
As each new Augustus reigns.

With no answers to refute us
They can only starve or shoot us
And such ills we should disdain.
Those who serve this world’s deceiver
Argued thus with each believer
Ever since the time of Cain.

Men of desert and of river
Call to mind her name and give her
Joy by sharing in her aim.
Blessed Santa Catalina,
By His grace may our demeanour
Show we heed our Master’s claim.

May she joy as we delight
Remembering her blessed name.
And may we share her future bright
Together always in the same
Eternal city in the sight
Of He who took away our shame.

Amen