以前の記事で扱ったRobert Southwellの詩"New heaven, new warre"について、Nancy Brownの編纂による"The poems of Robert Southwell, S.J.(1967)"の中に、それのより確かな文献を発見した為、該当部分をここに掲載する。編纂に辺り彼が用いた文献は16世紀,17世紀のもの、或るいはそれぞれ確認できる最古のものである為、より正確であろう。
This littke Babe so few dayes olde, Is come to ryfle sathans folde;
All hell doth at his presence quake, Though he himselfe for cold doe shake:
For in this weake unarmed wise, The gates of hell he will surprise.
With teares he fights and winnes the field, His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battring shot are babish cryes, His Arrowes lookes of weeping eyes,
His Martiall ensignes cold and neede, And feeble flesh his warriers steede.
His Campe is pitched in a stall, His bulwarke but a broken wall:
The Crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes, Of sheepheards he his Muster makes;
And thus as sure his foe to wound, The Angells trumps alarum sound.
My soule with Christ joyne thou in fight, Sticke to the tents that he hath pight;
Within his Crib is surest ward, This little Babe will be thy guard:
If thou wilt foyle thy foes with joy, Then filt not from this heavenly boy.