Saint Robert Southwell: The Burning Babe. Spokenverse on Dec 7, 2012. Memorial 21 February. 25 October as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales 29 October as one of the Martyrs of Douai …More
Saint Robert Southwell: The Burning Babe.
Spokenverse on Dec 7, 2012.
Memorial
21 February.
25 October as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales
29 October as one of the Martyrs of Douai
Profile
Raised in a piously Catholic family. Educated at Douai and at Paris, France. Joined the Jesuits in 1580. Prefect of studies in the English College at Rome, Italy. Ordained in 1584. Returned to England in 1586 to minister to covert Catholics, working with Henry Garnett. Chaplain to Ann Howard, wife of Saint Philip Howard, in 1589. Wrote a number of pamphlets on living a pious life. Arrested in 1595 for the crime of being a priest. Repeatedly tortured in hopes of learning the location of other priests. He was so badly treated in prison that his family petitioned for a quick trial, knowing that his certain death would be better than the conditions in which he was housed. He spent three years imprisoned in the Tower of London, and was tortured on the rack ten times; between abuses he studied the Bible and wrote poetry. He was finally tried and convicted for treason, having admitted that he administered the Sacraments. One of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales.
Born
1561 in Horsham Saint Faith, Norfolk, England
Died
hanged, drawn and quartered on 21 February 1595 in Tyburn, London, England
while hanging, he repeatedly made the sign of the cross
onlookers tugged at his legs to help him die quicker
Venerated
8 December 1929 by Pope Pius XI
Beatified
15 December 1929 by Pope Pius XI
Canonized
25 October 1970 by Pope Paul VI
Works
A Short Rule of Good Life
Epistle of Comfort
Humble Supplication to Queen Elizabeth
Mary Magdalen’s Tears
The Burning Babe
Triumphs over Death
catholicsaints.info/saint-robert-southwell/
Spokenverse on Dec 7, 2012.
Memorial
21 February.
25 October as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales
29 October as one of the Martyrs of Douai
Profile
Raised in a piously Catholic family. Educated at Douai and at Paris, France. Joined the Jesuits in 1580. Prefect of studies in the English College at Rome, Italy. Ordained in 1584. Returned to England in 1586 to minister to covert Catholics, working with Henry Garnett. Chaplain to Ann Howard, wife of Saint Philip Howard, in 1589. Wrote a number of pamphlets on living a pious life. Arrested in 1595 for the crime of being a priest. Repeatedly tortured in hopes of learning the location of other priests. He was so badly treated in prison that his family petitioned for a quick trial, knowing that his certain death would be better than the conditions in which he was housed. He spent three years imprisoned in the Tower of London, and was tortured on the rack ten times; between abuses he studied the Bible and wrote poetry. He was finally tried and convicted for treason, having admitted that he administered the Sacraments. One of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales.
Born
1561 in Horsham Saint Faith, Norfolk, England
Died
hanged, drawn and quartered on 21 February 1595 in Tyburn, London, England
while hanging, he repeatedly made the sign of the cross
onlookers tugged at his legs to help him die quicker
Venerated
8 December 1929 by Pope Pius XI
Beatified
15 December 1929 by Pope Pius XI
Canonized
25 October 1970 by Pope Paul VI
Works
A Short Rule of Good Life
Epistle of Comfort
Humble Supplication to Queen Elizabeth
Mary Magdalen’s Tears
The Burning Babe
Triumphs over Death
catholicsaints.info/saint-robert-southwell/
Als einst in rauher Winternacht im Schnee ich zitternd stand,
Kam plötzlich Hitze über mich, mein Herz geriet in Brand;
Und furchtsam hob die Augen ich zu sehn, was das wohl war:
Ein lieblich Kindlein, brennendhell, bot meinem Blick sich dar.
Das ließ, von heißer Glut versengt, Ströme von Tränen fließen,
Doch statt zu löschen, ließen sie mehr noch die Flammen schießen.
"O weh", sprach es, "…More
Kam plötzlich Hitze über mich, mein Herz geriet in Brand;
Und furchtsam hob die Augen ich zu sehn, was das wohl war:
Ein lieblich Kindlein, brennendhell, bot meinem Blick sich dar.
Das ließ, von heißer Glut versengt, Ströme von Tränen fließen,
Doch statt zu löschen, ließen sie mehr noch die Flammen schießen.
"O weh", sprach es, "dass, neugeborn, in solcher Glut ich leide,
Und niemand naht, damit sein Herz sich an der Wärme weide.
Mein reines Herz der Ofen ist, Brennstoff sind Dornenbande,
Liebe das Feuer, Seufzer Rauch, und Asche Hohn und Schande.
Gerechtigkeit legt Kohle drauf, Gnade die Flamme weckt,
Das Erz, das in der Esse glüht, sind Seelen, schuldbefleckt.
Um sie zu läutern, brenn ich hier in so entfachter Glut
Und schmelze hin zu einem Bad, wasch sie mit meinem Blut."
Damit verschwand's aus meinem Blick, war weg mit einem Schlag,
Und plötzlich kam mir in den Sinn: es war ja Weihnachtstag.
'The Burning Babe" Robert Southwell (1561-1595)
One more comment from Irapuato
As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear;
Who, scorchëd with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed
As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed.
Alas, quoth he, but …More
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear;
Who, scorchëd with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed
As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fed.
Alas, quoth he, but newly born in fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I!
My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns,
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;
The fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought are men’s defiled souls,
For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood.
With this he vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away,
And straight I called unto my mind that it was Christmas day.
– The Burning Babe, by Saint Robert Southwell
catholicsaints.info/saint-robert-southwell/