124. The return letter of the Lord Peter the Abbot to the same

To the honourable and most beloved son in Christ Peter, brother Peter, the humble abbot of the Cluniacs sends greetings.

To one writing, I should never be mute. We dwell in the woods. Tired of cities, we love the country. And to add something poetic, not the commotion of Rome but the tranquility of Tivoli and the peace of Taranto is presently pleasing to me.[1]We have retired and relinquish the struggle to youths and those like you. Put on your armour, therefore, and since your foot, as you wrote, has grown better by the grace of God, advance to the battle, fight manfully, subdue the enemies with your strength and, since the whole world now forms an alliance in arms, you too must enter the ranks of the armed. For you refused to become our hermit-companion for that reason. Nonetheless, I did not completely want to be at rest in the way that you imagine rest. And to use again the words of him whom I cited above, for me,the ivy of the poets, the gifts of garlands make one to be the gods above, for me the cool woody grove…(I will leave the rest unsaid) far removedfrom the people.[2]

You know how greatly it troubles me when false songs are sung in the Church of God and how greatly such melodious trifles are hateful to me. Among these – and there are many! – is an unwarranted hymn (including, but not limited to poor themes, terrible metre, and sloppy word order) which I recently heard sung and I was compelled to sing on the feast of our great father Benedict, but which then I scarcely was able to stomach at first and I was embarrassed that the true praises of so great a man were advanced in such a false manner. For, in addition to the unsuitability of the messages (which were entirely wrong), I recognized no less than twenty four [poetic] errors in it when quickly running through that song in my careening mind. Therefore, not presuming, but zealous of those things which are God’s (at least in this tiny way), I composed a hymn in the same metre in praise of omnipotent God and of this aforementioned father out of material gathered from the words of Gregory the Great and I send it to you on whom I frequently force my works not matter what their quality. Take it therefore, and if it seems worthy, add it to the others which have become accustomed to make a record, for this one I cannot leave unrecorded. Since the old hymn scarcely mentions a single one of the many and great miracles of this saintly man, this hymn briefly relates his twelve miracles in addition to the spiritual virtues of his soul. And after I did the one, I composed a second in a different metre (which I also send to you) about both his translation and burial; [this one is] briefer than the first out of a concern for maintaining the singers’ interest. Keep well forever.

Here follows the Hymn on the Burial of Our Holy Father Benedict… And another hymn on his translation.

[1]Horace, Ep. 1, vii, 44-45.

[2]Horace, Carmina, I I, 29-32.