A King's Failure

Nonne postquam tibi ex voto uiolenti regni fantasia cessit, cupiditate inlectus ad viam revertendi rectam, diebus ac noctibus id temporis, conscientia forte peccaminum remordente, de deficio tenore monachorumque decretis sub dente primum multa ruminans, dein popularis aurae cognitioni proferens, monachum sine ullo infidelitatis, ut aiebas, respectu coram omnipotente deo, angelicis vultibus humanisque, ruptis, ut putabatur, capacissimis illis quibus praecipitanter involui solent pingues tauri moduli tui retibus, omnis regni auri argenti et quod his maius est propriae voluntatis distentionibus ruptis, perpetue vovisti, et rete, ac si stridulo cavum lapsu aerem valide secantem saeuosque rapidi harpagones accipitris sinuosis flexibus vitantem ad sanctorum tibi magnopere fidas speluncas refrigeriaque salubriter rapuisti ex corvo columbam? O quanta ecclesiae matri laetitia, si non te cunctorum mortalium hostis de sinu quodammodo euis lugubriter abstraxisset, foret! O quam profusus spei caelestis fomes desperatorum cordibus, te in bonis permanente, inardesceret! o qualia quantaque animam tuam regni christi praemia in die iudicii manerent, si non lupus callidus ille agnum ex lupo factum te ab ovili dominico, non vehementer invitum, facturus lupum ex agno sibi similem, rapuisset! O quantum exultationem pio omnium patri deo sanctorum tua salus servanda praestaret, si non te cunctorum perditorum infaustus pater, veluti magnarum aquila alarum unguiumque, daemon infelici filiorum suorum agmini contra ius fasque rapuisset! E multa, tantum gaudii ac suavitatis tum caelo terraeque tua ad bonam frugem conversio quantum nunc maeroris ac luctus ministrauit ad horribilem, more molossi aegri, vomitum nefanda reversio. Qua peracta exhibentur membra arma iniquitatis peccato ac diabolo quae oportuerat salvo sensu avide exhiberi arma iustitiae Deo. Arrecto aurium auscultantur captu non Dei laudes canora christi tironum voce suaviter modulante neumaque ecclesiasticae melodaie, sed propriae, quae nihil sunt, furciferorum referto mendaciis simulque spumanti flegmate proximos quosque roscidaturo, praeconum ore ritu bacchantium concrepante, ita ut vas Dei quondam honore caelesti putabatur dignum merito proiciatur in tartari barathrum. De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae, Sanctus Gildas Sapiens

Was it not that you 1 who after the fantasy of violent rule ceased by a vow, drawn by the desire to return to the right way, perhaps with the consciousness of sins biting days and nights during that time, first ruminating much with yourself on the hard customs and the rules of monks, then, bringing it forward into the knowledge of the open air, did declare yourself, without any thought of deceit, a monk, in the sight of Almighty God, and before the face of angels and men, and had you not broken, as was thought, those great nets, by which fat bulls of your sort are accustomed to be entangled headlong, that is, the net of every kind of rulership, and of gold and silver, and what is mightier than these, of your own bloated will, and did you not, even if you cleaved empty air in most shrill descent, escape the cruel claws of the swift hawk with sinuous windings, and to the faithful and refreshing caves of the saints, profitably race like a dove from the raven? What joy for mother church if the enemy of all mankind had not lamentably dragged you off, so to speak, from her lap. What plentiful kindling for heavenly hope would blaze in the hearts of the desperate, if you had persevered in the good. What and how many rewards of the kingdom of Christ would wait for your soul in the day of judgment if that cunning wolf had not snatched you, you who had become a lamb from a wolf, from the Lord's fold, and not at all against your will, to make you a wolf from a lamb, to make you like himself. What joy to the gracious Father and God of all saints your salvation, if secured, would had given, had not the wretched father of all the lost, the devil. like an eagle of mighty wings and claws, against every right and good, snatched you away to the unhappy brood of his children! In brief, your conversion to good fruit brought forth as much joy and sweetness, both to heaven and earth, as now sorrow and mourning is served up by your accursed reversion to your wretched vomit like a sick dog. Which done displayed your members  as arms of iniquity to sin and the devil, things which should have been eagerly presented as weapons of righteousness to God. And now when the attention of your ears is caught, it is not the praises of God in the tuneful voices of Christ's recruits with its sweet rhythm and the song of church melody, that are heard, but your own, which are nothing, howled by a thievish crew  full of lies and foaming phlegm, so as to sully anyone near, with the mouths of bacchants, so that the vessel once thought worthy of celestial honour is cast into the depths of Tartarus. On The Destruction and Ruin of Britain, Saint Gildas the Wise 1 Maelgwyn, King of Gwynedd