"Long years have I vainly for truth searched around,
As I probed into numberless pages;
But here 'mid this chamber each day I have found
In these books the pure truth of the ages."
Then a merry clattering of glasses.
Opening the door, I enter, greeting:
"Mementote mori."
Wondrous cellar!
Round me is its cool and roomy girdle.
There amid the hugeness of the barrels
Sit the fathers of this holy order
Round about a mighty oaken table;
Unto every monk a foaming flagon.
"Dearest brethren: Dominus vobiscum:
This is then the library ye boast of?—
Being straitly thus enjoined, has entered
Unto you your brother Marijófil,
That he may behold your cloistered dwelling,
That he may regard your skill in learning,
Which within this library ye cope with."
I with heavy heart these lines have written,
I with heavy heart have marked this matter.
Saviour, thou whose cross is on my lectern,
Thou, up yonder, Mater Dolorosa!
Witness shall ye twain to-day vouchsafe me.
How demurringly my quill did office.
