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diff --git a/47962-0.txt b/47962-0.txt index 45af42c..d9f00b2 100644 --- a/47962-0.txt +++ b/47962-0.txt @@ -1,30 +1,4 @@ - THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you’ll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories -Author: Francesca Alexander -Release Date: January 12, 2015 [EBook #47962] -Language: English -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER -VERY OLD STORIES *** - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 47962 *** Produced by Al Haines. @@ -5016,385 +4990,4 @@ Theophilus Raynaudus. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories -Author: Francesca Alexander -Release Date: January 12, 2015 [EBook #47962] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER -VERY OLD STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - -[Illustration: Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by -the author] - - - - - [Illustration: Title page] - - - - *THE HIDDEN - SERVANTS* - - _and_ OTHER VERY OLD STORIES - - - _Told Over Again By_ - FRANCESCA ALEXANDER - - AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF IDA," - "ROADSIDE SONGS OF TUSCANY," Etc. - - - - _LONDON_ * Published by DAVID NUTT - at the Sign of the Phoenix, Long Acre * _1907_ - - - - - Copyright, 1900, - By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - - All Rights Reserved - - - - University Press * John Wilson - and Son * Cambridge, U.S.A. - - - - - *Introduction* - - -To those who are fortunate enough to know Miss Alexander's pen and -pencil pictures of Italian peasant life the very name of Francesca, over -which her early work was published, carries with it an aroma as of those -humbler graces of her adopted people,--their sunny charity, their native -sense of the beautiful, their childlike faith,--which touch the heart -more intimately than all their great achievements in History and in Art. -For those, however, to whom are yet unknown her faithful transcripts in -picture and story from the lives of the people she loves, a word of -introduction has been asked; and it was perhaps thought that the task -might properly be entrusted to one who had heard _The Hidden Servants_ -and many another of these poems from the lips of Francesca herself. - -Yet, rightly considered, could any experience have better served to -banish from the mind such irrelevant intruders as facts,--those literal -facts and data at least which the uninitiated might be so mistaken as to -desire, but which none who knew Francesca's work could regard as of the -slightest consequence? - -Imagine a quiet, green-latticed room in Venice overlooking the Grand -Canal whose waters keep time in gently audible lappings to the lilt of -the verse,--that lilt that is apparent even in the printed line, but -which only a voice trained to Italian cadences can perfectly give. -Imagine that voice half chanting, half reciting, these old, old legends, -and with an absolute sincerity of conviction which stirs the mind of the -listeners, mere children of to-day though they be, to a faith akin to -that which conceived the tales. Where is there place for facts in such a -scene, in such an experience? Or, if facts must be, are not all that -are requisite easily to be gleaned from the poems themselves? Why state -that Francesca is the daughter of an American artist, or that she has -spent her life in Italy, when the artist inheritance, the Italian -atmosphere, breathes in every poem our little book contains? Why make -mention even of Ruskin's enthusiastic heralding of her work, when the -very spirit of it is so essentially that which the great idealist was -seeking all his life that he could scarcely have failed to discover and -applaud it had it been ever so retiring, ever so hidden? Nor does it -matter that the Alexander home chances to be in Florence rather than in -Venice, since it is Italy itself that lives in Francesca's work; nor -that she is Protestant rather than Catholic, when it is religion pure -and simple, unrestricted by any creed, that makes vital each line she -writes or draws. - -Yet of the poems, if not of the writer, there remained still something -to learn, and accordingly a letter of inquiry was sent her; and her own -reply, written with no thought of publication, is a better report than -another could give. This is what she says:-- - -"With regard to this present collection of ballads, I can tell its -history in a few words. When I was a young girl many old and curious -books fell into my hands and became my favourite reading (next to the -Bible, and, perhaps, the _Divina Commedia_), as I found in them the -strong faith and simple modes of thought which were what I liked and -wanted. Afterwards, in my constant intercourse with the country people, -and especially with old people whom I always loved, I heard a great many -legends and traditions, often beautiful, often instructive, and which, -as far as I knew, had never been written down. I was always in request -with children for the stories which I knew and could tell, and, as I -found they liked these legends, I thought it a pity they should be lost -after I should have passed away, and so I always meant to write them -down; all the more that I had felt the need of such reading when I was a -child myself. But I never had time to write them as long as my eyes -permitted me to work at my drawing, and afterwards, when I wanted to -begin them, I found myself unable to write at all for more than a few -minutes at once. Finally I thought of turning the stories into rhyme -and learning them all by heart, so that I could write them down little -by little. I thought children would not be very particular, if I could -just make the dear old stories vivid and comprehensible, which I tried -to do. If, as you kindly hope, they may be good for older people as -well, then it must be that when the Lord took from me one faculty He -gave me another; which is in no way impossible. And I think of the -beautiful Italian proverb: 'When God shuts a door He opens a window.'" - -After such an account of the origin and growth of these poems no further -comment would seem fitting, unless it be that made by Cardinal Manning -when writing to Mr. Ruskin in 1883 to thank him for a copy of -Francesca's _Story of Ida_. He writes:-- - -"It is simply beautiful, like the _Fioretti di San Francesco_. Such -flowers can grow in one soil alone. They can be found only in the -Garden of Faith, over which the world of light hangs visibly, and is -more intensely seen by the poor and the pure in heart than by the rich, -or the learned, or the men of culture." - -ANNA FULLER. - - - - - *Preface* - - - *THE OLD STORY-TELLER* - -_In my upper chamber here,_ -_Still I wait from year to year;_ -_Wondering when the time will come_ -_That the Lord will call me home._ -_All the rest have been removed,--_ -_Those I worked for, those I loved;_ -_And, at times, there seems to be_ -_Little use on earth for me._ -_Still God keeps me--He knows why--_ -_When so many younger die!_ - -_From my window I look down_ -_On the busy, bustling town._ -_But beyond its noise and jar_ -_I can see the hills afar;_ -_And above it, the blue sky,_ -_And the white clouds sailing by;_ -_And the sunbeams, as they shine_ -_On a world that is not mine._ - -_Here I wait, while life shall last,_ -_An old relic of the past,_ -_Feeling strange, and far away_ -_From the people of to-day;_ -_Thankful for the memory dear_ -_Of a morning, always near,_ -_Though long vanished, and so fair!_ -_Dewy flowers and April air;_ -_Thankful that the storms of noon_ -_Spent their force and died so soon;_ -_Thankful, as their echoes cease,_ -_For this twilight hour of peace._ - -_But my life, to evening grown,_ -_Still has pleasures of its own._ -_Up my stairway, long and steep,_ -_Now and then the children creep;_ -_Gather round me, where I sit_ -_All day long, and dream, and knit;_ -_Fill my room with happy noise--_ -_May God bless them, girls and boys!_ -_Then sweet eyes upon me shine,_ -_Dimpled hands are laid in mine;_ -_And I never ask them why_ -_They have sought to climb so high;_ -_For 'twere useless to enquire!_ -_'Tis a story they desire,_ -_Taken from my ancient store,_ -_None the worse if heard before;_ -_And they turn, with pleading looks,_ -_To my shelf of time-worn books,_ -_Bound in parchment brown with age._ -_Little in them to engage_ -_Children's fancy, one would say!_ -_Yet, when tired with noisy play,_ -_Nothing pleases them so well_ -_As the stories I can tell_ -_From those pages, old and gray,_ -_With their edges worn away;_ -_Spelling queer, and Woodcut quaint._ -_Angel, demon, prince, and saint,_ -_Much alike in face and air;_ -_Houses tipping here and there,_ -_Lion, palm-tree, hermit's cell,_ -_And much more I need not tell._ - -_Then they all attentive wait,_ -_While the story I relate,_ -_And, before the half is told,_ -_I forget that I am old!_ -_But one age there seems to be_ -_For the little ones and me._ -_What though all be new and strange,_ -_Little children never change;_ -_All is shifting day by day,--_ -_Worse or better, who can say?_ -_Much we lose, and much we learn,_ -_But the children still return,_ -_As the flowers do, every year;_ -_Just as innocent and dear_ -_As those babes who first did meet_ -_At our Heavenly Master's feet._ -_In His arms He took them all:_ -_Oh, 'tis precious to recall--_ -_Blessd to believe it true--_ -_That what we love He loved too!_ - -_Since the time when life was new,_ -_All my long, long journey through,_ -_I have story-teller been._ -_When a child I did begin_ -_To my playmates; later on,_ -_Other children, long since gone,_ -_Came to listen; and of some,_ -_Still the children's children come!_ - -_Some, the dearest, took their flight,_ -_In the early morning light,_ -_To the glory far away,_ -_Made for them and such as they._ -_I have lingered till the last;_ -_All the busy hours are past;_ -_Now my sun is in the west,_ -_Slowly sinking down to rest_ -_Ere it wholly fades from view,_ -_One thing only I would do:_ -_From my stories I would choose_ -_Those 't would grieve me most to lose._ -_And would tell them once again_ -_For the children who remain,_ -_And for others, yet to be,_ -_Whom on earth I may not see._ -_Here, within this volume small,_ -_I have thought to write them all;_ -_And to-day the work commence,_ -_Trusting, ere God call me hence,_ -_I may see the whole complete._ -_It will be a labour sweet,_ -_Calling back, in sunset glow,_ -_Happy hours of long ago._ - - - - - *CONTENTS* - - -Introduction - -Preface - -The Hidden Servants - -The Bag of Sand - -Il Crocifisso della Providenza - -Angels in the Churchyard - -The Origin of the Indian Corn - -The Eldest Daughter of the King - -Bishop Troilus - -The Crosses on the Wall - -Suora Marianna - -The Lupins - -The Silver Cross - -The Tears of Repentance - - - - - *The Hidden Servants - *_*AND OTHER POEMS*_ - - - *THE HIDDEN SERVANTS* - - - A sheltered nook on a mountain side, - Shut in, and guarded, and fortified - By rocks that hardly a goat would climb, - All smoothed by tempest and bleached by time-- - Such was the spot that the hermit chose, - From youth to age, for his life's repose. - There had he lived for forty years, - Trying, with penance and prayers and tears, - To make his soul like a polished stone - In God's great temple; for this alone - Was the one dear wish that his soul possessed, - And 't was little he cared for all the rest, - - Nothing had changed since first he came; - The sky and the mountain were all the same, - Only a beech-tree, that there had grown - Ere ever he builded his cell of stone, - Had risen and spread to a stately grace, - And its shifting shadow filled half the place. - Many a winter its storms had spent, - Many a summer its sunshine lent - To the little cell, till it came to look - Like another rock in the peaceful nook. - Mosses and lichen had veiled the wall, - Till it hardly seemed like a dwelling at all. - - 'T was a peaceful home when the days were soft, - And spring in her sweetness crept aloft - From the plains below where her work was done, - And the hills grew green in the warming sun. - And in summer the cell of the hermit seemed - Like part of that heaven of which he dreamed: - For the turf behind those walls of flint - Was sprinkled with flowers of rainbow tint; - And never a sound but the bees' low hum, - As over the blossoms they go and come; - Or--when one listened--the fainter tones - Of a spring that bubbled between the stones. - - But dreary it was on a winter's night, - When the snow fell heavy and soft and white. - And at times, when the morn was cold and keen, - The footprints of wolves at his door were seen. - But cold or hunger he hardly felt, - So near to heaven the good man dwelt; - And as for danger--why, death, to him, - Meant only joining the Seraphim! - - Poorly he lived, and hardly fared; - And when the acorns and roots he shared - With mole or squirrel, he asked no more, - But thanked the Lord for such welcome store. - The richest feast he could ever know - Was when the shepherds who dwelt below, - Whose sheep in the mountain pastures fed, - Would bring him cheeses, or barley bread, - Or--after harvest--a bag of meal; - And then they would all before him kneel, - On flowery turf or on moss-grown rocks, - To ask a blessing for them and their flocks, - - And once or twice he had wandered out - To preach in the country round about, - Where unto many his words were blest; - Then back he climbed to his quiet nest. - By all in trouble his aid was sought; - And women their pining children brought, - For a touch of his hand to ease their pain, - And his prayers to make them strong again. - - And now one wish in his heart remained: - He longed to know what his soul had gained, - And how he had grown in the Master's grace, - Since first he came to that lonely place. - This wish was haunting him night and day, - He never could drive the thought away. - Until at length in the beech-tree's shade - He knelt, and with all his soul he prayed - That God would grant him to know and see - A man, if such in the world might be, - Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown - To the self-same measure as his own; - Whose treasure on the celestial shore - Could neither be less than his nor more. - He prayed with faith, and his prayer was heard; - He hardly came to the closing word - Before he felt there was some one there! - He looked, and saw in the sun-lit air - An angel, floating on wings of white; - Nor did he wonder at such a sight: - For angels often had come to cheer - His soul, and he thought them always near. - Happy and humble, he bowed his head, - And listened, while thus the angel said: - "Go to the nearest town, and there, - To-morrow, will be in the market square - A mountebank, playing his tricks for show: - He is the man thou hast prayed to know; - His soul, as seen by the light divine, - Is neither better nor worse than thine. - His treasure on the celestial shore - Is neither less than thine own nor more." - - Next day, in the dim and early morn, - By a slippery path that the sheep had worn, - The hermit went from his loved abode - To the farms below, and the beaten road. - The reapers, out in the field that day, - Who saw him passing, did often say, - What a mournful look the old man had! - And his very voice was changed and sad. - Troubled he was, and much perplexed; - With endless doubting his mind was vexed. - What--He? A mountebank? Both the same? - What could it mean to his soul but shame? - Had his forty years been vainly spent? - And then, alas! as he onward went, - There came an evil and bitter thought,-- - Had he been serving the Lord for nought? - But in his fear he began to pray, - And the black temptation passed away. - - Perhaps the mountebank yet might prove - To have a soul in the Master's love. - He almost felt that it must be so, - In spite of a life that seemed so low. - Perhaps he was forced such life to take, - It might be, even for conscience' sake; - Some cruel master the order gave, - Perhaps, for scorn of a pious slave. - Or, stay--there were saints in ancient days, - Who had such terror of human praise - That, but to gain the contempt they prized, - They did such things as are most despised; - Feigned even madness; and more than one, - Accused of sins he had never done, - Had willingly borne disgrace and blame, - Nor said a word for his own good name! - - In thoughts like these had the day gone by; - The sun was now in the western sky: - The road, grown level and hot and wide, - With dusty hedges on either side, - Had led him close to the city gate, - Where he must enter to learn his fate. - - Now fear did over his hope prevail: - He almost wished in his search to fail, - And find no mountebank there at all! - For then his vision he well might call - A dream that came of its own accord, - Instead of a message from the Lord! - A few more minutes, and then he knew - That all which the angel said was true! - - A mountebank, in the market square, - Was making the people laugh and stare. - With antics more befitting an ape - Than any creature in human shape! - The hermit took his place with the rest, - Not heeding the crowd that round him pressed, - And earnestly set his eyes to scan - The face of the poor, unsaintly man. - Alas, there was little written there - Of inward peace or of answered prayer! - For all the paint, and the droll grimace, - 'T was a haggard, anxious, weary face. - - The mountebank saw, with vague surprise, - The patient, sorrowful, searching eyes, - Whose look, so solemn, and kindly too, - Seemed piercing all his disguises through. - They made him restless, he knew not why: - He could not play; it was vain to try! - His face grew sober, his movements slow; - And, soon as might be, he closed the show. - - He saw that the hermit lingered on, - When all the rest of the crowd were gone. - Then over his gaudy clothes he drew - A ragged mantle of faded hue; - And he himself was the first to speak: - "Good Father, is it for me you seek?" - "My son, I have sought you all the day; - Would you come with me a little way, - Into some quiet corner near, - Where no one our words can overhear?" - - Not far away, in a lonely street, - By a garden wall they found a seat. - It now was late, and the sun had set, - Though a golden glory lingered yet, - And the moon looked pale in it overhead. - They sat them down, and the hermit said: - "My son, to me was a vision sent, - And as yet I know not what it meant; - But I think that you, and you alone, - Are able to make its meaning known. - Answer me then--I have great need-- - And tell me, what is the life you lead?" - - "My life's a poor one, you may suppose! - I 've many troubles that no one knows; - For I have to keep a smiling face. - I wander, friendless, from place to place, - Risking my neck for a scanty gain; - But I must do it, and not complain. - I know, whatever may go amiss, - That I have deserved much worse than this." - - To the hermit this a meaning bore - Of deep humility, nothing more. - So, gaining courage, "But this," he said, - "Is not the life you have always led. - So much the vision to me revealed; - I know there 's something you keep concealed." - - The mountebank answered sadly: "Yes! - 'T is true: you ask, and I must confess. - But keep my secret, good Father, pray; - Or my life will not be safe for a day! - Alas, I have led a life of crime! - I 've been an evil man in my time. - I was a robber--I think you know-- - Till little more than a year ago; - One of a desperate, murderous band, - A curse and terror to all the land!" - - The hermit's head sank down on his breast; - His trembling hands to his eyes he pressed. - "Has God rejected me?" then he moaned: - "Are all my service and love disowned? - Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?" - - The other, seeing the old man grieved, - Said: "Father, why do you care so much - For one not worthy your robe to touch? - The Lord is gracious, and if He will, - He can forgive and save me still. - And as for my wicked life, 't is I, - Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh! - Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace." - - The hermit made him a sign to cease; - Then raised his head, and began to speak, - With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek. - "If you could remember even one - Good deed that you in your life have done, - I need not go in despair away. - Think well; and if you can find one, say!" - - "Once," said the mountebank, "that was all, - I did for the Lord a service small, - And never yet have I told the tale! - But if you wish it, I will not fail. - A few of our men had gone one day-- - 'T was less for plunder, I think, than play-- - To a certain convent, small and poor, - Where a dozen sisters lived secure - For very poverty! dreaming not - That any envied their humble lot. - There, finding the door was locked and barred, - They climbed the wall of a grass-grown yard. - Some vines were planted along its side, - Their trailing branches left room to hide; - Where, neither by pity moved nor shame, - They crouched, till one of the sisters came - To gather herbs for the noonday meal; - Then out from under the leaves they steal! - So she was taken, poor soul, and bound, - And carried off to our camping ground. - A harmless creature, who knew no more - Of the world outside her convent door, - Than you or I of the moon up there! - A shame, to take her in such a snare! - - "But, Father, I wished that I had been - Ten miles away, when they brought her in, - To hold for ransom; or if that failed-- - Oh, well, we knew when the pirates sailed! - We knew their captain, who paid us well, - And carried our prisoners off to sell. - They never beheld their country more, - Being bought for slaves on a foreign shore. - - "But oh! 't was enough the tears to bring, - To see that innocent, frightened thing, - Looking, half hopeful, from face to face, - As if she thought, in that wicked place, - There might be one who would take her part! - She looked at me, and it stung my heart. - But I, with a hard, disdainful air, - Turned from her as one who did not care, - I heard her sighing: she did not know - That her gentle look had hurt me so! - - "That night they set me the watch to keep; - And when the others were all asleep, - And I had been moving to and fro, - With branches keeping the fire aglow, - I crept along to the woman's side,-- - She sat apart, and her arms were tied,-- - And said,--'t was only a whispered word; - We both were lost if the others heard,-- - 'If you will trust me and with me come, - I 'll bring you safe to your convent home.' - She started, into my face she gazed; - Said she, 'I'll trust you--the Lord be praised!' - - "I very quickly the cords unbound. - She rose; I led her without a sound - Between the rows of the sleeping men, - Till we left the camp behind; and then - I found my horse, that was tied near by. - The woman mounted, and she and I - Set off in haste, through the midnight shade, - On the wildest journey I ever made! - By wood and thicket the horse I led, - And over a torrent's stony bed,-- - For along the road I dared not go, - For fear that the others our flight should know, - And follow after; the woman prayed. - I, quick and cautious, but not afraid, - Went first, with the stars for guide, until - We saw the convent, high on a hill. - We reached the door as the east grew red. - 'God will remember!' was all she said; - Her face was full of a sweet content. - She knocked, they opened, and in she went. - The door was closed--she was safe at last! - I heard the bolt as they made it fast-- - And I in the twilight stood alone, - With the lightest heart I had ever known! - - "So, Father, my robber days were o'er; - I could not be what I was before. - I wandered on with a thankful mind, - For I left the old bad life behind, - And tried, as I journeyed day by day, - To gain my bread in an honest way. - But little work could I find to do; - And so, as some juggling tricks I knew, - I took this business which now you see: - 'T is good enough for a man like me!" - - While yet the story was going on, - The cloud from the hermit's face had gone; - And if his eyes in the moonlight shone, - They glistened with thankful tears alone. - He listened in solemn awe until - The mountebank's tale was done; and still, - Some moments, he neither spoke nor stirred, - But silently pondered every word. - - Then humbly speaking, "The Lord," said he, - "Has had great mercy on you and me! - And now, my son, I must tell you why - I came to speak with you--know that I - Have tried with the Lord alone to dwell, - For forty years, in my mountain cell; - In prayer and solitude, day and night, - Have striven to keep my candle bright! - And there, but yesterday, while I prayed, - An angel came to my side, and said - That I should seek you,--and told me where,-- - And should your life with my own compare; - For in God's service and love and grace - Your soul with mine has an equal place, - We both alike have his mercy shared, - The same reward is for both prepared. - I came; I sought you--and you know how - I found you out in the square just now! - At which--may the Lord forgive my pride!-- - At first I was poorly satisfied. - But now I have heard your story through-- - What you in a single night could do!-- - And know that this to the Lord appears - Worth all my service of forty years; - I can but wonder, and thank His grace - Which raised us both to an equal place," - - "But, Father, it never can be true! - What?--I by the side of a saint like you? - Ah no! You never to me were sent. - 'T was some one else whom the angel meant!" - - "No! Listen to me--'T was _you_, my son! - Our Master said that a service done - To a child of His in time of need - Is done to Himself in very deed, - And is with love by Himself received! - So do not think I have been deceived, - But keep those words on your heart engraved - Of the humble woman whose life you saved, - _God will remember_, and trust His care. - He will not forget you here nor there!" - - "O Father, Father! And can it be - That the Lord in heaven remembers me? - And yet I had felt it must be true, - For the woman spoke as if she knew! - But when was ever such mercy shown, - And is this the love He bears His own? - Are these the blessings He holds in store? - Oh, let me serve Him for evermore!" - - And when, at the close of another day, - The hermit wearily made his way - Up the mountain path, from stone to stone, - He did not climb to his cell alone. - The mountebank, still with wondering face, - Came with him up to that peaceful place! - - Together with thankful hearts they went, - Thenceforth together their lives were spent. - And, ere the summer had reached its close, - Another cell from the rocks arose; - The beech, in its strong and stately growth, - Spread one green canopy over both. - On summer evenings, when shepherds guide - Their flocks to rest on the mountain side, - They heard above, in the twilight calm, - Two voices, chanting the evening psalm; - And one was agd, and one was young, - But never was hymn more sweetly sung! - - In love and patience, by deed and word, - They helped each other to serve the Lord,-- - Together to pray, to learn, to teach,-- - Till a deeper blessing fell on each. - Their souls grew upward from day to day; - But he who farthest had gone astray, - Who, lowest fallen, had hardest striven, - Who most had sinned and been most forgiven, - Erelong in the heavenly race outran - The older, milder, and wiser man. - Two years he dwelt with his agd friend, - Then made a blessd and peaceful end; - And, when his penitent life was done, - The hermit wept as he would for a son! - - Ten years had over the mountain passed, - Since that poor mountebank breathed his last, - Helped, to the end, by a woman's prayer, - Ten years; and the hermit still was there. - Grown older, thinner, with shoulders bent, - He seldom forth from his shelter went. - But those he had helped in former days - With prayers and counsel, in thousand ways, - Were mindful of him, and brought him all - He needed now, for his wants were small. - And happy they were their best to give, - If only their mountain saint would live! - For in his living their lives were blest; - And if he longed for the perfect rest, - Patient he was, and content to wait, - While God should please, at the heavenly gate. - Beautiful now his face had grown, - But the beauty was something not his own,-- - A solemn light from the blessd land - Within whose border he soon must stand. - Little he said, but his every word - Was saved and treasured by those who heard, - To be a blessing in years to come, - When he should be theirs no more; and some - Who brought their little to help his need, - Went home with their souls enriched indeed! - - One autumn morning he sat alone, - Outside his cell; and the warm sun shone - With a friendly light on his silver hair, - Through the branches, smooth and almost bare, - Of the beech-tree, now, like him, grown old. - The night before had been sharp and cold; - And the frost was white on leaf and stem - Wherever the rocks still shaded them, - But where the sunbeams had found their way, - In glittering, crystal drops it lay; - And fallen leaves at his feet were strewn, - Yellow and wet, over turf and stone. - - He sat and dreamed, as the agd do, - While, drifting backward, he lived anew - The years that never again should be. - A placid dream--for his soul was free - From all the troubles of long ago, - The doubts, the conflict he used to know! - Doubts of himself, and a contest grim - With evil spirits that strove for him. - Now all was over; that troubled day - Was like a storm that had passed away. - - It seemed to him that his voyage was o'er; - His ship already had touched the shore. - Yet once he sighed; for he knew that he - Was not the man he had hoped to be, - And, looking back on his journey past, - He felt--what all of us feel at last! - And his soul was moved to pray once more - The prayer he had made twelve years before, - Only to know, before he died, - If he were worthy to stand beside - One of God's children, or great or small, - Who served Him truly; and that was all! - - It was not long ere the angel came, - Who, gently calling the saint by name, - Said: "Come, for thou hast not far to go. - One step, and I to thine eyes will show - The very dwelling that shelters now - Two souls as near to the Lord as thou!" - - The hermit rose; and with reverent tread - He followed on as the angel led. - Where a single cleft the rocks between - Gave passage out of the valley green - They passed, and stood in the pathway steep: - The rocks about them were sunken deep - In fern, and bramble, and purple heath, - That sloped away to the woods beneath; - While far below, and on every side, - Were endless mountains, and forests wide, - And scattered villages here and there, - That all looked near in the clear, dry air. - And here a church, with its belfry tall; - And there a convent, whose massive wall - Rose grave and stately above the trees. - The hermit willingly looked at these; - For hope they gave him that now, at least, - Some praying brother or toiling priest - Might be his mate; but it was not so! - The angel showed him, away below, - A slope where a little mountain-farm - Lay, all spread out in the sunshine warm, - Along the side of a wooded hill. - It looked so peaceful and far and still! - And when his eye on the farmhouse fell, - The angel said: "It is there they dwell! - Two women in heart and soul like thee. - Go, find them, Brother, and thou shalt see - All that thou art in their lives displayed." - Before the hermit an answer made, - The angel back to the skies had flown; - He stood in the rocky path alone. - - Along the broken and winding way - Between the heath and the boulders gray; - Through lonely pastures that led him down - To oaken woods in their autumn brown; - And o'er the stones of a rippling stream, - The hermit passed, like one in a dream! - As though the vision, had made him strong: - He hardly knew that the way was long. - - 'T was almost noon when he came in sight - Of the little farmhouse, low and white: - A sheltered lane by the orchard led, - Where mountain ash, with its berries red, - Rose high above him; and brambles, grown - All over the rough, low wall of stone, - And tangled brier with thorny spray, - And feathered clematis, edged the way. - Then, turning shortly, a view he caught - Of both the women for whom he sought. - - One, spinning, sat by the open door; - Her spindle danced on the worn stone floor. - The other, just from the forest come, - Had brought a bundle of branches home, - And spread them now in the sun to dry; - But both looked up as the saint drew nigh. - Then, on a sudden, the spindle stopped, - The branches all on the grass were dropped. - He heard them joyfully both exclaim, - "The Saint! The hermit!" And forth they came - To bid him welcome, and made request - That he would enter their house to rest. - - But when a blessing they both implored, - He had not courage to speak the word. - The only blessing his lips let fall - Was this: "May the good Lord bless us all, - And keep our hearts in His peace divine!" - With hand uplifted, he made the sign, - Then entered in (to their joy complete!) - And willingly took the offered seat. - - And soon before him a meal was spread, - Of chestnuts, of goat's milk cheese, and bread; - While one with her pitcher went to bring - Some water fresh from the ice-cold spring. - - He could not taste of the food prepared - Till he his errand to both declared. - Said he: "My friends, I have come to-day - With something grave on my mind to say, - And more to hear; and I pray you now - To answer truly, and not allow - A feeling, whether of pride or shame, - Or any shrinking from praise or blame, - To change the answer you both may give, - Of what you are and of how you live." - - Then she with distaff still at her side, - Of speech more ready, at once replied. - In years the elder, but not in face, - She kept a little of youthful grace: - The dark eyes under her snow-white hair - Were keen and clear as the autumn air! - - "We are but what we appear to be: - Two toiling women, as you may see! - And neither so young nor strong as when - In field and forest we helped the men. - We now have only the lesser care, - To keep the house, and the meals prepare, - And other labours of small account, - Yet something worth in the week's amount. - But in our youth, and a lifetime through, - We laboured, much as the others do! - Through storm and sunshine we still have tried - To do our best by our husbands' side. - And keep their hearts and our own at rest - When sickness came or when want oppressed. - For even famine our house assailed - That year when the corn and chestnuts failed. - And once--that winter ten years ago-- - Our house was buried beneath the snow, - And ere it melted and light returned, - The very benches for warmth we burned! - Nor is there want, in our busy hive, - Of children keeping the house alive: - For she has seven, and I have nine; - But three of hers and the first of mine - Are safe with Jesus,--more happy they! - Two more have married and gone away. - My son's young wife, with her infant small, - Make up the household--fourteen in all." - - "In this," he said, "there is much to praise: - In humble service you pass your days, - And spend your life for your children's needs. - But tell me now of the pious deeds - (For such there are) that you seek to hide, - To me in a vision signified!" - - "But, sir, we are just two poor old wives. - Who never have done in all our lives - A pious deed that was worth the name!" - She said; and her white head drooped with shame. - - Then said the other: "And yet, 't is true, - We help in all that our husbands do. - When twice a year they have killed a sheep, - 'T is only half for ourselves we keep; - Our poorer neighbours have all the rest. - And this, I fear, is the very best - We ever do!" "And," said he, "'t is well! - But think--is there nothing more to tell?" - - They both were silent a little space, - And each one questioned the other's face, - Till, doubtful, when she had thought awhile, - The elder said, with a modest smile: - "This summer have forty years gone by, - Since she--my sister-in-law--and I - Together came in this house to dwell; - And, Father, it is not much to tell, - But in all these years, from first to last, - No angry word has between us passed, - Nor even a look that was less than kind. - And that is all I can call to mind." - - Enough it was for the hermit's need! - He rose, like one from a burden freed. - "Thank God!" he said; "if indeed He sees - My soul as worthy and white as these! - And great the mercy He doth bestow, - That I should His hidden servants know!" - - A sudden flash, as of heavenly light, - Then shone within him, and all was bright; - And in a moment were things made clear - Had vexed him many a weary year! - For he, who had thought on earth to view - God's people only a scattered few, - Saw now, in spirit, an army great - Of hidden servants who on Him wait. - No saintly legends their names disclose, - And no man living their number knows, - Nor can their service and place declare. - The hidden servants are everywhere! - And some are hated, despised, alone; - And some to even themselves unknown. - But the Father's house has room for all, - And never one from His hand can fall! - The one brave deed of a desperate man, - Grown hard in crime since his youth began, - Who yet, for a helpless woman's sake, - Had strength to rise, and his chain to break; - The holy sweetness that fills the heart - Of him who dwells from the world apart, - His life one dream of celestial things, - Till almost heaven to earth he brings; - Or yet the humble, unnoticed life - Of toiling mother and patient wife, - Who, year on year, has had grace to bear - Her changeless burden of daily care,-- - Are all accepted with equal love, - And laid with treasures that wait above - Until the day when we all believe - That every man shall his deeds receive. - - And when, that evening, with weary feet - The hermit stood by his lone retreat, - And watched awhile, with a tranquil gaze, - The mountains soft in the sunset haze, - And sleeping forest, and field below, - He said, as he saw the star-like glow - Of lights in the cottage windows far, - "How many God's hidden servants are!" - - - - - *The Bag of Sand* - - -THE BAG OF SAND was written by St. Heradius, who visited, some time in -the fifth century, the hermit fathers of the desert and mountains, and -collected many interesting stories about them. - - - *The Bag of Sand* - - -_In that land of desolation_ -_Where, mid dangers manifold,_ -_Lost in heavenly contemplation,_ -_Desert fathers dwelt of old,_ - -_Lay a field where grass was growing_ -_Green beneath the palm-trees' shade;_ -_And a spring, forever flowing,_ -_Life amid the stillness made._ - -_There a brotherhood, incited_ -_By one hope and purpose high,_ -_Came to dwell in faith united,_ -_Pray and labour, live and die._ - -_Mighty was the love that bound them._ -_Each to each, in that wild land,_ -_Where the desert closed around them,_ -_One dead waste of rocks and sand,_ - -_Saving where, to rest their eyes on,_ -_While they dreamed of hills divine,_ -_Blue, above the low horizon,_ -_Stretched the mountains' wavy line._ - -_There could nought of earth remind them,_ -_Nor disturb their dreams and prayers;_ -_They had left the world behind them,_ -_Felt no more its joys and cares._ - -_Far from all its weary bustle,_ -_Will subdued, and mind at ease._ -_They could hear the palm-trees rustle_ -_In the early morning breeze._ - -_When the bell, to prayer inviting._ -_From the low-built belfry rang,_ -_They could hear the birds uniting_ -_With them while the psalms they sang._ - -_From the earth their labour brought them_ -_All they needed--scanty fare._ -_Life of toil and hardship taught them,_ -_Though at peace, the cross to bear._ - -_This is all their record: never_ -_Can we hope the rest to know!_ -_Names and deeds are lost forever,_ -_In the mist of long ago;_ - -_And of all that life angelic_ -_Neither shadow left, nor trace._ -_Save this tale,--a precious relic,_ -_In its wise and saintly grace!_ - -_This, above the darkness lifted_ -_By the truth that in it lay,_ -_On the sea of time has drifted,_ -_And is still our own to-day._ - -_Listen to it, it may teach us_ -_Wisdom, with its words of gold!_ -_Let this far-off blessing reach us_ -_From the desert saints of old._ - - - - Underneath the vines they tended - Where the garden air was sweet, - Where the shadows, softly blended, - Made an ever cool retreat,-- - - These good brethren had assembled, - On their abbot to attend; - All were sad, and many trembled, - Thinking how the day would end. - - Of their little congregation - One who long had faithful been, - Had, beneath a sore temptation, - Fallen into grievous sin. - - What it was they have not told us, - But we know, whatever the blame, - If God's hand should cease to hold us, - You or I might do the same. - - And for judgment's wise completing - (Now the crime was certified), - All were called in solemn meeting - On the sentence to decide. - - Much in doubt, they craved assistance, - Sent to convents far away, - Even to that fair blue distance - Where their eyes had loved to stray. - - Fathers learnd, fathers saintly, - Abbots used to think and rule, - Gathered where the brook sang faintly - In the shadow, green and cool. - - Oh the beauty that was wasted - On that day, remembered oft! - Oh the sweetness, all untasted, - Of the morning, still and soft! - - At their feet the water glistened, - Birds were nesting overhead; - No one saw, and no one listened - Save to what the speakers said. - - Long and sad was their debating, - Voices low and faces grave, - While, the gloomy tale relating, - Each in turn his judgment gave. - - "Send him from you!" one was saying - Calmly, as of reason sure; - "All are tainted by his staying, - Let men know your hands are pure! - - "For the shame and sorrow brought you, - Let him be to all as dead! - Harm sufficient has he wrought you!" - But the abbot shook his head. - - For the sin which had undone him, - For much evil brought about, - He would lay a burden on him, - But he could not cast him out! - - All night long the distant howling, - While he waked, of beasts of prey, - Made him think of demons prowling, - Come to snatch that soul away. - - Said another: "I would rather - That his shame by all were seen. - Do not spare him, O my Father; - Let the blow be swift and keen! - - "Let not justice be evaded! - Keep him, bound to labour hard, - With you, but apart degraded, - And from speech with all debarred!" - - This the abbot not refusing, - Only wondered, while he thought, - Was there no one feared the losing - Of a soul the Lord had bought? - - One, more thoughtless, recommended - That in prison closely pent - He should stay till life was ended! - But to this would none consent. - - In the cell where first they closed him, - Shrinking back, as best he might, - From a window that exposed him - Sometimes to a passer's sight, - - He, the black offender, waited, - From them parted since his fall: - Once beloved, now scorned and hated - By himself, he thought by all! - - Nothing asking, nothing pleading, - Speechless, tearless, in despair; - But, like one in pain exceeding, - Moving ever here and there. - - Little did his fate alarm him: - What had he to fear or shun? - What could others do to harm him - More than he himself had done? - - But without were minds divided, - And the morning wore away; - Noon had come, and undecided - Still the heavy question lay. - - Though they looked so stern and fearless, - Some with sinking hearts had come,-- - Hearts that wept when eyes were tearless, - Pleaded when the lips were dumb. - - One who had that morning seen him, - Seeking from their gaze to hide, - Tried from heavy doom to screen him; - But his reasons were denied. - - He of other days was thinking,-- - Happy days, and still so near!-- - When that brother, shamed and shrinking, - Had to all their souls been dear. - - Others tried their hearts to harden, - Felt their pity to be sin; - Silent, prayed the Lord to pardon - Kinder thoughts that rose within. - - Some proposed and some objected, - While, the long debate to end, - One old Father they expected, - And on him would all depend. - - He--their honoured, best adviser-- - Dwelt in desert cave retired; - Older than the rest, and wiser: - Many thought his words inspired; - - Said he knew what passed within them - When by sin or doubt assailed; - True it is, his words could win them, - Often, when all else had failed. - - He would find what all were seeking, - Justice pure, and judgment right! - Still the abbot, seldom speaking, - Pale and sober, prayed for light. - - Light was sent! For, toiling slowly - O'er the sun-baked desert road, - Came that Father, wise and holy, - Bent beneath a weary load! - - Scarce his failing limbs sustained him, - For the burden sorely pressed: - Many times, as though it pained him, - Would he stand to breathe and rest. - - One who watched for his arriving, - Went and told them he was near. - Up they rose, and ceased their striving, - In their joy such news to hear! - - Then they all went forth and met him, - By their reverent love compelled: - Nevermore could one forget him, - Who that day his face beheld! - - Wasted, worn, yet strong to aid them; - Peaceful, though by conflict tried; - Shining with a light that made them - Feel the Lord was by his side! - - But it grieved their souls to see him - By that burden bowed and strained! - Many stretched their hands to free him, - Wondering what the sack contained. - - "Why this burden?" one addressed him; - "All unfit for arms like thine!" - He, while yet the weight oppressed him, - Answered: "These are sins of mine. - - "I must bear them all, my brother, - Ever with me while I go - On my way to judge another! - These have made my journey slow." - - Then the abbot, growing bolder, - Raised the load with trembling hand - From the Father's bended shoulder; - Looked--and found it filled with sand. - - Of them all, there was not any - But was silent for a while; - For the best had sins as many - As the sand-grains in that pile! - - Then they heard the abbot saying, - "God alone must judge us all!" - And a burden, heavy weighing, - Seemed from every heart to fall. - - Awed and hushed, but no more keeping - Pity crushed, or love restrained, - Some were smiling, some were weeping; - Of their striving what remained? - - Many bowed in veneration; - Others all in haste to go - With a word of consolation - To their brother fallen low. - - Hope they brought, and gentler feeling, - To his torn, despairing breast, - And that evening found him kneeling - In the chapel with the rest. - - None arose to judge or sentence: - He whose sin they most deplored, - In his long and sad repentance, - Was with charity restored. - - - - - *Il Crocifisso della Providenza* - - -The crucifix about which this story is told is still to be seen in the -church of the Carmine, where it is kept in the Corsini chapel; and it is -always shown to the public on the first of May, when also (as the ballad -relates) a _festa_ is held in the house once occupied by the three -sisters, in the Via dell' Orto. - -The house seems to have been little changed since they lived there; it -now bears the number 10, and is easily recognized by a niche in the -wall, containing a representation of the crucifix, and the chest piled -with loaves. - -From time immemorial, a lamp burns every night before this little -shrine: the oil is provided by the poor women of the vicinity (and they -are very poor indeed), each one laying by a few _centesimi_ every week -for the purpose. - - - *Il Crocifisso della Providenza* - - - The streets of Florence are fair to see, - With palace and church and tower, - And there the mighty of earth have dwelt, - And the whole world feels their power. - - And many come from the East and West - To gaze on its beauty rare; - To stand where the wise and great have stood, - For their presence is ever there. - - But they never think of the narrow streets - Where the poor of the city dwell; - Those humble houses, so bare and plain, - Have tales of their own to tell. - - There's one by the San Frediano gate, - Not far from the city wall; - Some Latin words on its front engraved - The memory still recall - - Of one, a beggar, to all unknown, - Who knocked at the door one day; - Of what a blessing he left behind - That morn when he went his way, - - It happened hundreds of years ago, - But they tell the story still; - So listen now to the legend old, - And smile at it if you will. - - But if you smile, be it not in scorn; - The tale which I now relate - Has lightened many a heavy heart - By the San Frediano gate. - - Long since, they say, in that ancient house - There were orphan maidens three, - And in the chamber above the door, - Whose window you still may see, - - They worked and prayed, by the world unseen; - And ever, the long day through, - The needles stitched, and the spindle twirled, - And the knitted garment grew. - - So young, and one of them yet a child, - With never an earthly friend; - They prayed each day for the daily bread - Which they knew the Lord would send. - - And toiling cheerfully, lived content, - Nor ever of want complained, - But freely shared with the needy poor - The little their labour gained. - - But evil days to the sisters came, - And their faith was sorely tried: - A merchant, one of the first in town, - That winter had failed and died. - - And many debts had he left behind, - And their work was all unpaid; - For he it was who had bought and sold - The delicate wares they made. - - They prayed for help, and they sought for work; - But awhile they sought in vain. - They pledged the ring that their father wore, - And their mother's golden chain. - - Then work they found, but for neighbours poor, - And some of them could not pay; - 'T was well for them that the spring began, - And the cold had passed away. - - And one by one, as the days went on, - Were the household treasures sold,-- - The copper pitcher, the brazen lamp, - And the nut-wood table old, - - The pot of pinks from the window-sill-- - But when they had sold them all, - An ancient crucifix, carved in wood, - Still hung on the whitewashed wall - - Above the chest where the loaves were kept; - Such blessing its presence shed, - It seemed to them like a living friend, - And not like an image dead! - - In all their troubles, in all their joys, - That crucifix bore a part; - Above all comfort, or wealth, or gain, - 'T was dear to the sisters' heart! - - As babes, before they could understand, - Or ever a prayer repeat, - Each day their father had held them up, - While they kissed the carven feet. - - So April came, and so April went; - And they lived, the Lord knows how! - The elder sister had saved and spared, - But the chest was empty now. - - That very evening she broke in halves, - And gave to the younger two, - One piece of bread--'t was the last they had; - There was nothing more to do, - - Unless, unless--and she looked at them, - And then at the image dear: - She touched it once; but her hand drew back - With a guilty, shrinking fear. - - Her sisters saw, and they started up, - And they said in haste, "Not so! - Take back the bread, if there be no more; - The crucifix must not go!" - - And she took courage, and kissed them both, - And smiled, though her eyes were wet; - Then looked again at the face beloved, - And said, "He will help us yet!" - - They rose next day with the early dawn, - And their hearts were almost light! - The young need little to make them glad, - And the day was fair and bright. - - And pleasant 't is to behold the sun, - Though his rosy-tinted ray - Could only shine on the moss-grown tiles - Of the roof across the way. - - And the air was sweet in the narrow street - Where the swallows toss and glide; - For a perfume came on the morning breeze - From the hills on every side,-- - - A perfume faint from the woods afar, - From blossoming fields of corn; - And bells already their chimes began, - For this was a sacred morn. - - The Carmine church is near at hand, - And the sisters thither hied; - 'T was there they had knelt in happy days - By the dear dead mother's side. - - Then home, through the gay and festive street, - Till they reached the chamber bare: - The time had come for the morning meal, - And alas, no bread was there! - - The elder girl on her sisters looked, - And her face grew white with pain. - Then said the one who was next in age, - "Let us ask the Lord again!" - - So down they knelt on the red-tiled floor, - And the elder bowed her head, - And said aloud, while the others joined, - The prayer for their daily bread. - - And then, with a tempest in her heart - That she could no more withstand, - With her arm around the younger girl, - And the other by the hand, - - She pleaded, raising her tearful face - To the dying face above, - For those she loved in their helpless state - With more than a sister's love. - - "O blessed Jesus! O Lord divine! - Have pity, we wait for Thee! - Look down--Thou seest our empty chest, - Thou knowest how poor we be! - - "Oh, send some bread to my sisters dear, - For the cornfields all are Thine! - I 'd rather lie in my grave to-day - Than to see these children pine! - - "Thou knowest, Lord, I have done my best; - But my hands have failed at length: - A mother's burden is on me laid - With only a maiden's strength. - - "Come, help me! Look at these orphan girls! - Oh, save them from want and woe!--" - Her praying ceased, for they heard a sound, - A knock at the door below. - - They rose, and all to the window went: - A beggar was at the door, - A poor, pale stranger, with staff in hand, - Who had never come before. - - The Month of Mary was coming in; - And many were on their way - To ask for alms in the Virgin's name - On that beautiful first of May. - - "My little sisters," the beggar said, - (And bowed to the maidens three,) - "I pray you spare from your table spread - A morsel of bread for me! - - "I come from far, and I 've far to go; - And I 've eaten nought to-day!" - The elder wept, but she answered not; - And the second turned away. - - The younger looked with her innocent eyes - In the beggar's pleading face: - "And if we could, we would give you food; - But we 're in as hard a case! - - "We finished yesterday all we had-- - The half of a loaf, no more!-- - We just were asking the Lord for bread, - When we heard you at the door." - - "Go, look in the chest, my little maid; - You 'll find there is bread to spare!" - "Alas, we have looked so many times, - And never a crust is there!" - - "Look once again, for the love of Him - Whose image I see within: - He never has failed to help His own, - And He will not now begin." - - So only lest it should seem unkind - To refuse the small request, - The elder girl with a patient smile - Went back to the empty chest. - - She looked--and down on her knees she fell, - With a cry of glad surprise: - The others turned, and their breath stood still, - They could scarce believe their eyes! - - 'T was full! And the loaves were piled so high - They could close the lid no more. - Their tears fell faster for joy that day - Than they fell for grief before! - - But in the midst of their thankful praise - They thought of the starving man: - The little one seized the topmost loaf, - And back to the window ran. - - She looked, she called him--he was not there! - They sought him, but all in vain: - He passed away from their sight that day, - And he came no more again. - - So ends the story; but ever since - That crucifix bears the name - _La Providenza_; and even now - The house has a sacred fame. - - And many kneel where the sisters knelt - Each year on the first of May; - And the floor is all bestrewn with flowers, - And leaves of the scented bay. - - The humble room is with roses decked. - And bright with the candles' glow; - And smoke of incense, and sound of psalm, - Float over the street below. - - A woman agd and silver-haired - Once told me, with solemn thrill, - How she herself had beheld the chest, - Which stands in the chamber still. - - I asked her: "Who was that beggarman? - An angel, do you suppose? - A saint from heaven?" Her face grew grave, - And she answered me, "Who knows?" - - And then, with voice to a whisper dropped, - With an awed, mysterious air, - "Some think," she said, "'t was the Lord Himself - Who came at the maiden's prayer." - - - - - *Angels in the Churchyard* - - -The story of the "Angels in the Churchyard" was told me by Signore -Bortolo Zanchetta of Bassano, who said that he read it in an old book, -but he had lost the book, and could not even remember its name. - - - *Angels in the Churchyard* - - - A saint there was, long time ago, - And all in vain I tried - His name to learn, or whence he came, - Or how or where he died. - - For he from whom the tale I heard - Could tell me nothing more - Save only that within him dwelt - Of love an endless store. - - And in the churchyard once he passed - A summer night in prayer, - For pity of the nameless dead - Who lie forgotten there. - - He knew not when the sun went down, - So earnestly he prayed! - He knew not when the twilight glow - Was lost in deepening shade. - - And when the fair, round moon arose - Behind the wooded hill, - She looked across the churchyard wall, - And found him praying still. - - But when the night was far along, - And when the moon was high, - When all the village lights were out, - And closed was every eye,-- - - When low above the sleeping dead - The folded daisies slept, - And he alone his patient watch - Until the morning kept,-- - - Came angels through the churchyard gate, - But in no heavenly guise; - So unadorned, he little thought - They came from Paradise! - - The moon lit up their robes of white; - No other glory shone. - He watched them, as they paused before - One sunken, moss-grown stone, - - And thrice their silver censers swung, - As at some saintly shrine, - But never incense burnt on earth - Had perfume so divine. - - Between the graves they glided on: - Toward a cross they turned-- - A wooden cross that bore no name-- - And there the incense burned. - - A fading garland on it hung, - Of wild flowers simply twined; - Whoever lay in that poor grave - Had left some love behind. - - But next they sought a dreary place - Against the northern wall; - He could not see if mound were there, - The nettles grew so tall! - - And on to others, three or four, - Their noiseless steps they bent: - Where'er they stayed, the incense rose; - Then, as they came, they went. - - But often to that churchyard green - Did he at night repair; - And ever, when the hour returned, - The angels all were there. - - He thought them only white-robed priests; - And much he wondered why - Each night at certain graves they stayed, - While others they passed by. - - Till, after waiting, wondering long, - One night he forward pressed, - And spoke with one who walked apart, - A step behind the rest. - - 'T was starlight now; the moon had waned: - He hardly saw the face - Of him he talked with; but he felt - Great peace was in the place. - - "Of God's own saints," the angel said, - "A few lie buried here; - And He so loves them that to Him - Their very dust is dear! - - "So, while their souls with perfect peace - Are in His presence blest, - He will not that these humble graves - Should all unhonoured rest. - - "Each night from heaven He sends us down. - Where'er His flowers are sown-- - These bodies that shall one day rise, - All glorious like His own!" - - The saint was silent, for his lips - Could find no word to say: - He stood entranced, and like to one - Whose soul is far away. - - At length he roused; the stars were dim, - The night had half withdrawn: - A light was in the eastern sky, - The clear pale light of dawn. - - Then came a freshening in the air, - A twitter in the trees, - A ripple in the dewy grass - That felt the early breeze; - - And sounded from the tower above - The sweet-toned, ancient bell; - While bright and busy over all - The summer morning fell. - - The daisies opened; happy birds - Sang in the sunshine free. - The dead alone are sleeping now; - Their morning is to be. - - - - - *The Origin of the Indian Corn* - - -This story was told me by the Contessa Vittoria Percoto Antonini of -Palmanuova, who said that she heard it in her youth at a _Fila_, which -is a sort of social gathering held in the winter evenings by the -_contadini_ in that part of the country. - -The winter is cold, and these _contadini_, who are very poor and can ill -afford the wood for a fire, meet in the cattle-shed, where the breath of -cows and oxen warms the air a little. - -They often say, "It is the way that the Ges Bambino was warmed!" A -lantern hangs from one of the beams overhead, and by its dim light the -women spin or knit. All talk together, and (as the Contessa Vittoria -expresses it) "the boys make themselves agreeable to the girls, very -much as though it were a party of ladies and gentlemen." - -And from time to time the elder people entertain the company with -stories, of which this is a pretty fair specimen. - - - *The Origin of the Indian Corn* - - *A Legend of Friuli* - - - In the far Italian border land, - With its rolling hills and mountains grand, - And the Alps of Carnia rising near, - Where the snow lies more than half the year; - With crags where the clinging fir-trees grow - Above the chestnuts and vines below, - From the weary, changing world remote,-- - There age on age doth a legend float. - The young have learnt it from agd men; - It never was written yet with pen. - It seems at first, when they tell it o'er, - A childish fancy, and nothing more; - And bearing the impress, deep indeed, - Of the hard and struggling lives they lead: - A thing to smile at, and then forget, - Scarce worthy a passing thought--and yet - The simple tale may a lesson teach - If only one can its meaning reach! - Like one of their living, hill-side springs, - That shows the image of common things; - So he who looks on its surface sees - The bending flowers, the arching trees, - The sun, the shadow, the rocks, the sky, - The busy birds that go flitting by, - While deep below is the endless wealth - Of water, given for life and health. - - In homely form is the lesson taught; - But worthy still of a reverent thought. - So listen, think; if you have a mind - To seek, and the hidden treasure find: - For Truth, most precious and fair, doth dwell - In the crystal depth of this mountain well. - - And this is the story, often told - In the winter evenings long and cold; - In the low-roofed, dimly lighted shed, - Where the breath of oxen serves instead - Of a blazing hearth to warm the place: - A smile of peace is on every face, - And hearts are light, and they often say, - "Our Lord was warmed in the self-same way, - That night when He on the earth was born!" - And the shed no longer seems forlorn, - For it makes them feel Him near at hand: - And they the better can understand - How by His pity and timely aid - The beautiful Indian corn was made. - - 'T was in the days when He dwelt below, - Before 't was given to man to know - Or who He was or from whence He came; - And the world had hardly heard His name! - He journeyed over the country roads, - He taught the poor, and He eased their loads. - He had no dwelling wherein to rest - With the one or two who loved Him best, - And once in seeking a friendly door - They came to a farmer's threshing-floor. - The hot July had but just begun; - The road lay white in the blinding sun; - The air was heavy with odours sweet; - The sky was pale, as if faint with heat. - Two weary men and two women pale - Were threshing, each with a heavy flail,-- - A mile away you could hear the sound - In measured cadence along the ground. - Then, moved with pity at such a sight, - It pleased Him to make their burden light. - At first He prayed them to pause and rest; - They only smiled at the strange request, - And laboured on till He spoke again: - "Fear not, Myself I will thresh the grain!" - - At sound of His holy voice, they knew - That what He said He would surely do! - He bade them bring Him a burning brand, - And, though they little could understand, - The brand was brought, and they saw Him bend, - And touch the corn with the lighted end. - Then swiftly, as by a tempest blown, - The straw to the farther side was thrown; - The wheaten kernels, all clear and bright, - Lay piled on high--'t was a pleasant sight! - Another and smaller heap contained - The chaff, and whatever else remained. - 'T was threshed and winnowed, and all in one; - The work of days in a moment done! - The happy threshers, with one accord, - Gave thanks and praise to the blessd Lord; - And grateful tears at His feet were shed. - - Meanwhile the news through the village spread; - For more than one had been near, and seen - The miracle of the wheat made clean. - From field and garden and cottage door, - The people flocked to the threshing-floor. - Then came a time of such joy supreme - As never had been in thought or dream. - For when they looked on the clean-threshed wheat, - And heard the threshers their tale repeat, - And knew that He had this wonder done, - They knelt and worshipped Him, every one! - Oh, think how happy they were and blest, - Who might awhile in His presence rest! - Think what it would be for you or me - That voice to hear and that face to see! - The children run to Him where He stands, - And cling with their little sunbrowned hands - To His garment; and the parents feel - Their burden lightened while yet they kneel. - "Thank God, who spared us!" the agd say, - "To look on Thy blessd face to-day!" - The sick are healed, and the weak made strong, - And hearts consoled that had suffered long: - A sound of gladness, of praise and prayer, - Floats far away on the summer air. - - Amid such transports of young and old, - How was it that one could still be cold? - A certain widow whom all confessed - To be the bravest, perhaps the best, - Among the women the place contained-- - Why was it that she aloof remained? - - Handsome and stately, and strong of arm - To guard her fatherless babes from harm, - With five little hungry mouths to fill; - For them she laboured with might and will! - But, proud of spirit, she could not bear - That other hearts should her burden share. - Of soul too high for an evil deed, - She scorned the others, but helped their need. - In wit and wisdom the rest excelled, - And yet their kindness too oft repelled; - Accepted nothing, though free to give, - And almost rather had ceased to live - Than share the loaf from a neighbour's shelf. - Yes, proud of her very pride itself! - - She nursed it, cherished it, thought it grand, - To guide unaided her house and land, - And thanked the Lord, when she knelt to pray, - That never one in the place could say, - "I help the widow!" And now she stood - Apart from the kneeling multitude, - And half impatient and half amused, - She smiled at the simple words they used, - Of praise and wonder, and thought how she - Could never so weak and childish be! - - For her 't was a proud and happy day, - For rest and plenty before her lay: - Herself had sown and herself had reaped; - And now the beautiful sheaves lay heaped, - Not far away, by her open door; - Her heart rejoiced in the ample store! - A neighbour saw her, and called her name: - "Come near! perhaps He will do the same - For thee, and thy summer's work complete; - I know that thou hast not threshed thy wheat!" - - She tossed her head with a smile of pride: - "I never yet, since my husband died, - Asked help or favour of any one! - Besides, I saw how the thing was done. - And I can do it as well as He; - He need not turn from His way for me!" - She looked on the awed, adoring crowd, - In scorn a moment; then laughed aloud, - To see the horror among them spread, - At sound of the evil words she said. - - Our Lord's disciples, though saints they were, - Had no good wishes that day for her! - Indeed, their patience was greatly tried - To see Him slighted and thrust aside. - One even whispered, "Hast Thou not heard?" - But He said never an angry word! - One look of pity He on her cast, - Then turned, and forth from the village passed, - Along the lane where the grass was brown, - And birds were plucking the thistle-down, - Till under the olives' silver screen - He turned aside, and no more was seen. - - And now the widow of heart so proud - Would show to the grave, indignant crowd - Her greater wisdom; with this intent - She calmly in to her fireside went; - Some coals she brought in an iron pan-- - "If one can do it, another can!" - She said; and then with a careless smile - She touched the coals to her golden pile. - - A flash, a crackle, a blinding blaze - Of flame, that struggles, and soars, and sways, - And sinks a moment, and soars again-- - That was the end of the widow's grain! - A few short moments, and nought remained - Of all that her loving toil had gained - But blackened tinder, and embers red, - And the sullen smoke-cloud overhead! - - Her friends and neighbours, I fear, meanwhile - Were far less minded to weep than smile; - And hardly one was with pity moved, - For the woman was not greatly loved. - And all were angry, as well as grieved, - To think of the slight our Lord received, - After his wonderful goodness shown, - And when He had made their cares His own! - - The boys were ready to dance and shout, - At seeing the red sparks blown about; - The maidens whispered and laughed aside; - Their parents talked on the sin of pride. - To help or comfort her, no one planned, - Except the poorest of all the band; - An agd woman, who near her came, - And drew her back from the scorching flame. - "Poor soul!" she said, "thou hast children five! - And I have none in the world alive. - Keep up thy heart! I am well content - To share with thee what the Lord has sent. - I just have gathered my harvest store, - And when 't is gone, He will send us more!" - - In vain they spoke to her, ill or good; - She neither listened nor understood. - She minded not if they frowned or smiled; - Her face was white, and her eyes were wild, - As, lost in horror, she stood and gazed - To see the corn by her labour raised, - Their store of food for the coming year, - Consume before her and disappear! - Then came the cry of a little child, - From sleep awakened, in terror wild. - That cry brought life to her fainting heart; - She turned around with a sudden start, - And said, in a husky voice and low, - "Which way did that Blessd Stranger go?" - - A storm of voices around her rose; - The woman's purpose they all oppose. - "_Which way?_" they angrily say; "but how? - Wilt thou have courage to seek him now? - And after thy shameful words to-day, - Is He to stop for thee on His way? - Is He to come when He hears thy call? - But, woman, hast thou no shame at all?" - "Nay, go not near Him!" another said: - "That man has power to strike thee dead, - And thou hast angered Him! Let Him go-- - Thy pride has ruined thee; be it so!" - - Though none to help her a hand would lend, - That gray-haired woman was still her friend; - She could not speak, for her voice was drowned - In such a tumult of angry sound. - She only made with her wrinkled hand - A sign the widow could understand, - And quick as thought, and before they knew, - Away on her wild pursuit she flew. - - Our Blessd Lord, with His followers few, - Had journeyed on for a mile or two, - When, on the brow of a rocky hill, - The others noticed that He stood still - And looked behind Him; they did the same. - A woman running toward them came, - Running and stumbling, and falling oft, - And throwing wildly her arms aloft, - As if entreating them still to stay - Till she could finish the toilsome way! - They looked; and pity their souls possessed - At first in seeing her thus distressed; - But when they knew her, their hearts grew hard, - Nor would they longer her prayers regard. - "Good Lord, that woman it is," they say, - "Who scorned and slighted Thee so to-day. - She knows her folly, perhaps, too late; - For her, most surely, we should not wait!" - "She needs me now!" was His sole reply; - And still He waited--they wondered why! - - Down in the dust at His feet she fell: - Her doleful story she could not tell, - For speech had failed, and she vainly tried: - But, stretching her helpless hands, she cried - (With lips that hardly the words could form, - They trembled so with the inward storm), - "Good Lord, have patience, and pity take - On me, for the innocent children's sake!" - And then from her eyes began to pour - A flood of tears, and she said no more. - She dropped her head on her heaving breast; - But He in His wisdom knew the rest. - And when He looked on her, bowed and crushed, - Her pride all broken, her boasting hushed, - "Take heart!" He said: "I will give thee more - And better grain than thou hadst before." - - The day was drawing toward a close, - The sky was clear in its deep repose; - The sun, just sinking away from sight, - Had touched with a solemn crimson light - The smoky column that, dark and thin, - Still rose where the widow's sheaves had been. - The neighbours lingered, or came and went - To look, and talk of the day's event. - And, smiling grimly the wreck to view, - Some said: "The widow has had her due!" - But more of them shook their heads and sighed, - To think of the bitter fruits of pride. - And one old woman looked down the lane, - And wished the widow would come again! - The five poor little ones sat forlorn, - Beside the blackened and wasted corn; - And ate the bread that the neighbours brought: - For them, at least, there was pitying thought. - No sin of theirs, if the corn was burned! - And then it was that the Lord returned. - - Returned, as ever, to save and bless! - And while the people around Him press, - The widow kneels and the children weep, - He lays His hand on the smouldering heap. - His touch has the evil work undone; - And in the light of the setting sun - The corn returned where the ashes lay; - But not as it was at noon that day. - To twice their size had the kernels grown, - And each with a burning lustre shone. - For, since that grain through the fire has passed, - 'T will bear its colour until the last! - - A few, in seeing the store increased - Of her who seemed to deserve it least, - Began to murmur; and yet, maybe, - Themselves were more in the wrong than she! - With all her folly, with all her sin-- - For all her ignorant pride had been - Far more, alas, than her reason strong,-- - She never did Him that grievous wrong - Of thinking He could refuse the prayer - Of one who sought Him in her despair; - Or that her sin, were it twice as great, - Could close His heart to her woful state; - Or lie so heavily on her soul - But what His love could outweigh the whole! - But most rejoiced in the happy sight - Of evil conquered and wrong made right. - - And so from ruin and wreck was born - The beautiful, flame-hued Indian corn! - - - - - *The Eldest Daughter of the King* - - -The two stories of the Patriarch, St. John of Alexandria, which are -especially interesting, as being without doubt true in all their -principal facts, are taken from a short account of that wonderful man, -written by St. Leontius, Bishop of Napolis, in Cyprus, who visited -Alexandria after the Patriarch's death, and wrote in great part from the -dictation of the Patriarch's servant, by name Zaccarias, himself a man -of saintly character. The stories must have been written by St. -Leontius not long after 620, when the Patriarch died. - - - *The Eldest Daughter of the King* - - - Saint John of Alexandria--blessd name, - Recalling ever holy thought and deed! - O heart forever warm with heavenly flame! - O hand forever full for others' need! - - Blessd and blessing thousands! Since his day, - Twelve hundred years, and more, have come and gone, - Their beauty dead, their glory passed away: - But in our loving thought he still lives on. - - Of all who ever walked on earthly sod, - (Though many loved and saintly names there be,) - I know not if another ever trod - More closely in his Master's steps than he! - - To comfort all who suffer,--this alone - His soul desired; for this he prayed and strove - With heart unchanging; and for him were none - Too high for pity, nor too low for love. - - And often was he rich, and often poor; - For God upon him had great wealth bestowed, - Which endless store of blessing did procure - To souls that fainted with their weary load. - - Nor could he e'er from sorrow turn away, - Nor from a brother's need his hand withhold; - But when his all was spent, men used to say, - The good Lord gave him back a hundredfold. - - Enough there was, and ever more to spare, - Though help abundant came at every call. - When prudent friends had prayed him to forbear, - He only said, "God has enough for all." - - Till, for their souls' content, he told the truth,-- - He being now a grey-haired agd man,-- - The holy vision that had blessed his youth, - And changed, of all his life, the course and plan. - - "A boy I was, and in my father's home - I slept; 't was night, and I was all alone, - When to my side I felt a presence come; - A hand awakened me that touched my own. - - "I saw the chamber all ablaze with light, - And there, before me, stood a lady fair, - With olive crowned, and clad in raiment bright, - Such as, I think, the saints in Heaven may wear. - - "Hers was no earthly beauty, but a grace - Most sweet and solemn that no words can reach; - I looked awhile in her celestial face, - And then addressed her, but with timid speech: - - "'Who art thou, O my lady, that dost bring - Such glory in the night?' Then answered she: - 'I am the eldest daughter of the King, - And more than all my sisters, he loves me. - - "'For me He left His glory: it was I - Who led Him on along the thorny road, - To suffer, and for others' sin to die; - For me He shared thy sorrow, bore thy load. - - "'Take me for thy companion: I will be - Thy friend as I was His, and by the hand - Will lead thee where at evening thou shalt see - The emperor's face, and in his presence stand. - - "While yet the voice was sounding in my ear - The vision ceased; I saw the light no more: - The moon was shining through the window near, - And all the house was silent as before. - - "And, waiting till I saw the dawn ascend, - I lay and mused upon this wondrous thing; - And tried, with my child's mind, to comprehend - Who was the eldest daughter of the King, - - "I prayed, I pondered long in vain; until - A light from Heaven was on my spirit shed: - And not by wisdom, nor by earthly skill, - I knew the meaning of the words she said. - - "When Christ our blessd Lord to earth came down, - And gave His life for lost and thankless men, - And changed His glory for a thorny crown, - 'T was Mercy led and did constrain Him then. - - "Ah, woe to us, if Mercy had not been - His eldest daughter, and His guide that day! - Then had we died, and perished in our sin, - Unpitied, unforgiven, cast away." - - Such was the Patriarch's story, and we know - That Mercy in his heart her dwelling made, - As in no other; and his life below - Was Mercy, in a thousand forms displayed. - - And when the summons came that comes to all, - As on a journey distant far he went; - While he, rejoicing, heard the heavenly call, - This token to the stricken church was sent. - - A humble convent had his bounty shared, - From Alexandria some few miles away: - And there, where he for rest had oft repaired, - An agd brother sick and dying lay. - - For years infirm and helpless had he lain, - But strong in faith, and happy in God's will, - Through all the weary days and nights of pain, - His only work to suffer and lie still. - - They two were friends, the Patriarch and he, - For oft the busy saint had loved to turn - From care and work, that peaceful face to see, - And from those patient lips some lesson learn. - - And now as he lay dying, glad to go, - Yet thinking, maybe, of his absent friend, - To him was granted in a dream to know, - Of that most holy life, the blessd end. - - For, sleeping, he beheld in vision clear - That sombre palace by the poor beloved, - Where the good Patriarch, year after year, - Had all their burdens lightened or removed. - - And down the stairway moved a long array - Of priests and others; slowly did they tread, - A grave procession, as on festal day, - And he, the Patriarch, was at their head. - - The loved companions of his toil were there, - Who helped him long to labour and endure, - Who knelt beside him in the church at prayer, - Or bore his secret bounty to the poor. - - They passed the door where none had knocked in vain, - They crossed the courtyard with its well of stone; - But at the outer gate did all remain - With saddened look, while he went forth alone. - - And now the vision changed, he walked no more - The city street that knew his step so well, - But trod a pleasant path, unknown before, - Through a fair land, where peace did ever dwell. - - There rose the emperor's palace on a hill, - O'erlooking all the country, where it lay - Spread out beneath it, beautiful and still, - In all the sweetness of an April day. - - Grand was that mansion, stately to behold; - To tell its beauty words can ne'er begin,-- - The thousand columns, and the domes of gold, - And shining all as from a light within. - - He neared the palace--of their own accord - The lofty gates before him open swing, - And in the glory, as it outward poured, - Came forth the eldest daughter of the King, - - Came as he saw her on that far-off night - Which star-like through his life's long journey shone, - Wearing her olive crown, her robe of light, - And came to meet him, where he walked alone, - - He bowed and knelt before her, for he knew - That presence which had blessed him long before; - While from her folded mantle forth she drew - A crown of olive, like the one she wore, - - And placed it on the saintly silvered head; - Then took his hand. He rose; nor did they wait: - The dreamer watched them as they onward sped, - Till, hand in hand, they entered through the gate. - - And then, as light concealed them, he awoke, - And to the brethren, gathered in his cell, - In tearful silence listening while he spoke, - He did the story of his vision tell, - - And bade them note what hour the dream was sent, - Which some with anxious hearts made haste to do; - Then waited, fearing what the vision meant; - Till time had shown them all they feared was true. - - For when the dreaded tidings came at last, - They knew that on that very hour and day - Their much-loved father from this life had passed, - In his own isle of Cyprus, far away. - - - - - *Bishop Troilus* - - - *Bishop Troilus* - - *THE MANSION IN HEAVEN* - - - In pomp and state, with following great, the Bishop Troilus came - To the town of Alexandria, which knew him long by fame, - To see the holy Patriarch, who had been his friend of old, - To hear his words of wisdom, and his saintly life behold. - In youth their paths together lay, and both with one accord - Had chosen then the better part, and thought to serve the Lord; - For half a century now and more had each one gone his way. - The Patriarch nearer was to God, far nearer than that day; - For his soul was like a garden where the flowers that then were - sown, - With care and patient tending, had to perfect beauty grown. - - And Troilus? ... In the world's esteem he stood as high, or - higher; - His piety did all men praise, his eloquence admire; - He had fiery words to thrill them, he had flowery words to - please, - And when he preached on festal days, the people swarmed like - bees; - From altar steps to open door there was hardly room to stand. - And 't was not the sermon only, but his presence was so grand; - With his grave and agd beauty, with his form erect and tall, - With saintly face and silver hair, he won the hearts of all. - When through the city he returned, so lofty and serene, - A train of priests attended him, all with obsequious mien; - And children followed open-eyed, and gentle ladies bent - From balcony and window high to see him as he went. - Indeed he was a stately sight in silken raiment clad, - The ring he wore was valued more than aught the Patriarch had; - And the cross upon his bosom, that the people wondering viewed, - Gave back the sunshine, when he walked, from jewels many-hued. - And men said his life was blameless, but it still must be - confessed, - Though the saints were glad to own him, yet the sinners loved - him best. - He was rich, and he was famous, and, as all his life had shown, - He was great in worldly wisdom, and the world will love its own. - - But while saints and shiners praised him, there was one who did - not praise, - But whose eyes forever watched him with a sad and anxious gaze; - For the Patriarch, simple-hearted, was not dazzled like the - rest, - And he knew the deadly passion that the Bishop's soul - possessed,-- - Yes, more deadly than another, for it lay so still and cold, - Like a serpent coiled within him,--'twas the growing love of - gold. - - It had choked away his pleasure, it had eaten up his peace, - As with every year that left him he had seen his wealth - increase, - Till his heart grew dry and withered in the smoke of worldly - care; - But it dulled him with its poison, and he knew not it was there. - Oh, the Patriarch longed to see him from such cruel bondage - free, - And he pleaded hard for Troilus every night on bended knee; - For there yet was time to save him, so he hoped and so believed, - But the days and weeks were passing, and no answer he received. - - But with praying he grew bolder, and to combat he began, - And he left his door one morning with a wise and hopeful plan; - And he said in solemn murmur, as he walked along the way, - "I must go and fight with Satan for my brother's soul to-day; - He is cruel, he is cunning, but his arts will be in vain, - The strongest net he ever wove will never bear the strain - Of seeing and of hearing what each day I hear and see, - And the Lord has saved my brother if he will but come with me." - - It was in the early morning, long before the noise and heat, - And the life was just beginning in the shady city street, - When he saw a church door open, and he turned and entered in. - "I will ask the Lord to help me in this work that I begin." - - There were some who entered near him, and he saw they came in - haste, - Toiling men and burdened women, who had little time to waste; - But they stole some precious minutes in that church to kneel and - pray, - To refresh their souls and cheer them for the labours of the - day; - And they gathered close around him on the pavement, for they - felt - That their prayers would rise the higher if their father with - them knelt. - Then he said to them: "My children, you must help me now indeed, - For my heart and soul are troubled for a friend in sorest need; - He is low with mortal sickness, but no earthly skill can cure. - Pray the Lord to show His mercy to the poorest of the poor." - So they knelt and prayed together, till the morning sun was - high, - For the Patriarch's heart was kindled, and the time went quickly - by. - - Troilus too had risen early, and had said his morning prayers, - But he said them somewhat coldly, being filled with other cares. - At that moment he was thinking, while he counted up his store, - Upon certain silver goblets he had seen the day before, - Which a silversmith had brought him, and had hoped that he would - buy. - They were nobly wrought and chiselled, and the price indeed was - high, - But he thought upon his table they would look exceeding fine - When his friends, the rich and noble, should come in with him to - dine; - Then how all of them would envy, and the thought his spirit - cheered,-- - When a gentle knock aroused him, and the Patriarch appeared. - Very bright his eyes were shining, and his face was all aglow, - But his voice was strange and solemn, when he told him, "I must - go - To the hospital, my brother, and I came here on my way; - If we both could go together, it would be a happy day. - There I find my greatest blessing, every morning fresh and new, - But far greater, but far sweeter could I share it once with - you." - How the heart of Troilus softened, as those eyes upon him shone, - At their look of earnest pleading, at the tremor in the tone! - Strange it was that look could melt him and that voice could - change him so, - Calling back to life, a moment, what had withered long ago,-- - Some old good that stirred within him, often spurned and thrust - aside. - But the flowers the Lord had planted, though they dwindled, had - not died; - He was poor in heavenly treasure, but he loved the Patriarch - still. - "I will come," he answered quickly; "you may lead me where you - will." - - There were looks and tones of wonder in the hospital that day, - From the rows of low white couches where the sick and dying lay, - As, with all his train about him, in his splendour and his - pride, - On he walked, the Bishop Troilus, by the simple Patriarch's - side. - But erelong the two were parted, for as Troilus looked around, - He recoiled in shrinking horror from each doleful sight and - sound; - While the Patriarch loved to linger for a while by every bed, - With his strong arms ever ready to sustain a drooping head; - Happy in each humble service, and forgetting all his state, - While he thanked the Lord who sent him on these stricken ones to - wait. - How the pale sad faces brightened into smiles as he drew near, - And what loving words were murmured, faintly murmured in his - ear! - - "Does he well," said Bishop Troilus, as he saw him turn and go - From one bedside to another, "does he well to stoop so low?" - Yet had Troilus only known it, they were not the poor alone - Whom his brother served that morning, but their Master and his - own. - There was one but just recovered, light of heart, though poor - and weak, - With a journey long before him, going forth his home to seek, - Far away among the mountains where his wife and children stayed; - But the Patriarch's love had found him ere the stranger sought - his aid, - Giving money for the journey, giving blessd words of cheer. - Then he turned, for time was pressing, and a sadder face lay - near, - Worn by months of pain and languor; he was young, had once been - strong, - He was fading now, but slowly, and perhaps would suffer long, - And the hundred wants of sickness who can know that has not - proved? - He had wearied all about him, but the Patriarch's heart was - moved; - So he heard the long complaining to which no one else gave heed, - Then he left him, soothed and peaceful, with enough for all his - need. - So with one and with another for a moment he would stay, - At each bed he left a blessing, and a blessing brought away, - Till his purse grew light and empty, as had happened oft before; - Though he turned it up and shook it, there was not one penny - more. - - Then he turned and sought for Troilus, who that moment, as it - chanced, - With a look subdued and solemn, stood and gazed, like one - entranced, - On the strange, unearthly beauty, on the light of perfect peace - In a woman's face before him; she was nearing her release, - And a glory rested on her from the opening door above; - Yet one shadow marred its splendour when she looked with anxious - love - On a little maid, her daughter, with a pretty, careworn face, - Who had brought two younger children, waiting now for her - embrace, - Wondering why she did not give it, why so deadly still she lay, - For they knew not, though she knew it, she would not live out - the day. - Said the Patriarch: "Brother Troilus, have you nothing you could - give - To this woman and her children, for she has not long to live? - And I see her mind is troubled, and I think, before they part, - Had she something she could leave them, it would ease her - burdened heart; - For myself, I freely promise I will make these babes my care, - But to-day my purse is empty, so I pray you not to spare." - - Oh! alas, poor Bishop Troilus! how this pleading broke the spell - That the woman's look had woven, and how low his spirit fell! - For he dearly loved his money, with a passion deep and blind, - As a scholar loves his learning, or a saint his peace of mind. - But the eyes of all were on him at that moment, and he knew - 'T was in hopeful expectation of what such a saint would do; - There were many who had entered from the busy street to gaze, - He would not be shamed before them, they should still have cause - to praise; - But his purse would have to open, so he turned and waved his - hand - To the priest who always bore it, with a gesture of command. - "For this woman for her daughter and the two poor babes," said - he, - "Lay down thirty golden pieces in the Patriarch's hand for me." - - There were none who had not heard him, for his voice was loud - and clear, - And a low, admiring murmur rose from all the couches near, - While the Patriarch stood rejoicing in the deed his friend had - done; - By himself he judged another, and he thought the victory won. - For one moment Bishop Troilus feels his narrow heart expand, - When the maiden thanks him weeping, and the children kiss his - hand, - And the mother, just departing, from the pillow where she lies, - Turns one happy smile upon him, with a blessing in her eyes. - - But alas! on home returning, when the sacrifice was made, - When the Patriarch's holy presence was no longer there to aid, - He did much bewail his money; half in anger, half in pain, - To have parted in a moment with what took so long to gain. - And his heart was in a turmoil, and a pain was in his head, - Till the raging turned to fever, and he threw him on his bed - In a storm of angry passion that no reason could control; - For to him to part with money was like parting with his soul. - But he said no word to any of this rage and inward strife, - And the priests who waited on him were in terror for his life, - And as nothing made him better, they took counsel, and agreed - That the Patriarch, and he only, was the man to meet their need; - So they sent and humbly prayed him if to come he would be - pleased, - For his friend the Bishop Troilus was with sudden illness - seized. - - In his chamber lay the Bishop, sick in body, sick in mind; - But the Patriarch, wise in spirit, had his malady divined. - So he came and sat beside him, patient still, but pale with - grief, - While he made one last endeavour for that troubled soul's - relief. - But his friend was sore and angry, and his words he would not - hear, - For the presence now disturbed him that had lately been so dear. - And he lay with face averted, till he heard the Patriarch say, - "I have brought you back the money that you gave away to-day." - Then indeed he started wildly, and his eyes he opened wide, - And he turned and faced his brother with a joy he could not - hide; - For with sudden hope he trembled, and it paled his fevered - cheek; - And the Patriarch's heart was sinking, but he still went on to - speak: - "When I asked your help this morning, I had nothing of my own, - So I left to you the blessing which had else been mine alone; - For those three dear orphan children I had gladly done the - whole, - So their mother up in heaven might be praying for my soul. - And I now have come to ask you if this grace you will resign,-- - Will you take again the money, and let your good deed be mine? - Yet I pray you to consider, ere you grant it or refuse, - What a great and heavenly treasure I shall win and you will - lose; - For indeed I would not wrong you, though to me the gain be - great. - So then do not answer rashly,--there is time, we both can wait, - And 't were well to think a little on the words our Master said, - How He left the poor behind, that we might serve them in His - stead; - And whatever help we grant them, be it great or be it small, - To our blessd Lord we give it, to our Lord, who gave us all." - - Then made answer Bishop Troilus, "As for what you now propose, - If it please you I am ready, and the bargain we can close. - There are many kinds of service, and each needful in its way, - And I think the Lord has set me in His church to preach and - pray, - And to save the souls that perish, and to teach men how to live, - While your own vocation, brother, is with open hand to give. - Let not one defraud the other, take your part and leave me mine, - For however we may divide it, all the service is divine. - Let us feed God's flock together, for His needy children care, - I the souls, and you the bodies, so the burden we may share." - "Then so be it," said the other, but his voice was low and - grave, - And he prayed to God in silence for the soul he could not save. - "We must write it all in order, we must sign and seal it too, - So that mine may be the blessing, while the gold remains with - you." - - So they wrote a contract solemn, to which each one signed his - name, - In which he, the Bishop Troilus, did relinquish every claim - To whatever reward or merit his one pious deed had earned, - Since the thirty golden pieces to his hand had been returned. - Then the Patriarch counted slowly all the pieces, one by one, - In the open hand of Troilus, and his last attempt was done. - All had failed, and heavy-hearted from that chamber forth he - went, - While his friend lay still and smiling in the fullness of - content; - For the fever now had left him, and 't was sweet to lie and - rest, - With no more a thorn to vex him in his smooth, untroubled - breast. - With a dreamy satisfaction he was thinking all the while - How those pretty shining pieces would increase the golden pile - In that chest of hoarded treasure that already held so much; - And he laid his hand upon them with a fond caressing touch. - But his thoughts began to wander, and his eyes were closing - soon, - In the drowsy heat and stillness of the summer afternoon. - - Then a dream was sent to bless him, as in quiet sleep he lay, - And it bore him in a vision to the country far away; - And he saw the holy city, where the saints and angels dwell; - Of its glory, of its beauty, mortal tongue can never tell. - There were palm-trees growing stately by the water, crystal - clear; - There was music ever swelling, sometimes far and sometimes near, - As it rose in mystic cadence from the hearts that overflowed - With the joy that reigns forever in their beautiful abode. - And the people of that city whom he met along the way - On the shining golden pavement, oh, how full of peace were they! - For he thought some heavenly vision shone forever in their - sight, - And he looked where they were gazing, but he only saw the light - As it flooded all with glory, and the air it seemed to fill; - But he saw not what they looked on, for his eyes were mortal - still. - Now among those lighted faces there were some he knew before, - Of the poor to whom so often he had closed his heart and door; - Such as in the heavenly city he had little thought to find, - For the sad and sick and needy had been never to his mind: - Of the rich were not so many, yet a few of these beside, - Who by deeds of love and mercy had their Master glorified. - And in perfect health and beauty, among all that bright array, - Was the woman he saw dying in the hospital that day. - - All along the road he travelled, to the left and to the right, - Rose the palaces they dwelt in, each a mansion of delight, - But all varying in their beauty, far away as eye could reach, - With a name in golden letters, high above the door of each. - And sweet faces smiled upon him, from the windows here and - there, - Gentle faces free forever from the shade of earthly care; - And he heard the happy voices of the children as they played - In the fair and peaceful gardens, where the roses never fade; - And the things he left behind him seemed so very poor and small, - That he wondered, in that glory, why men cared for them at all. - - But oh, wonder of all wonders, when he saw a name that shone - O'er a high and arching doorway, yes, a name that was his own! - Could it be his eyes deceived him? No, he read it o'er and - o'er; - "This," it said, "of Bishop Troilus is the home forevermore." - Oh the beauty of that palace, with such light and splendour - filled, - That he thought the clouds of sunset had been hewn its walls to - gild; - And the golden door stood open, he could catch a glimpse within - Of the vast illumined chambers where no foot had ever been. - He could only gaze bewildered, for the wonder was too great, - And the joy so poured upon him he could hardly bear the weight. - Then he took one step toward it, but a servant of the King - Who from far-off earth that morning had returned on busy wing, - And was bearing gifts and tokens from the scattered church - below, - Came and passed and stood before him, in the courtyard's golden - glow. - - Then he turned to his companions, for a few had gathered near, - And his words fell hard and heavy on the Bishop's listening - ear,-- - "We must cancel that inscription from the stone, and write - thereon - That Troilus hath this palace sold unto the Patriarch John, - And that thirty golden pieces were the price that he received." - Up then started Bishop Troilus, for his soul was sorely grieved, - And he tried to speak, but could not, and awoke in his dismay, - With his hand upon the money close beside him where he lay. - - Now the long bright day was over; as he saw the sun descend,-- - "Weary day," the Patriarch thought it; he was glad to see it - end. - He was walking in his garden where the freshening shadows lay, - And the flowers that drooped at noontime stood erect in beauty - gay; - But their brightness could not cheer him, and he bent his head - and sighed, - For he thought, with wondering sadness, that the Lord his prayer - denied, - - Then he heard a step behind him, and he looked; but who was - there, - Wild of look, like one who struggled with a pain he could not - bear? - Could it be the stately Bishop? Yes, but oh, how changed to - see! - And he said with tears and trembling, "O my brother, pray for - me!" - How the Patriarch's heart rebounded from the weight that on it - pressed, - At the change so deep and sudden, in those broken words - expressed! - How his cheek grew red with gladness, how it smoothed his - troubled brow! - "God forgive me if I doubted, all my prayers are answered now." - - "Come," he said, "my brother Troilus, sit beside me, tell me - all;" - And he led him, pale and helpless, to a seat beside the wall. - And there Troilus, clinging closely to that strong and helpful - hand, - Trusting in the heart that loved him and his thoughts could - understand, - Told the story of his vision to his awed and listening friend,-- - All that dream of light and glory, with its sad, unlooked-for - end: - But his voice, which trembled ever, wellnigh failed him when he - told - Of the horror of that waking, with his hand upon the gold; - When his eyes, long blind, were opened, and he saw the wreck - within, - And one fearful moment, showed him what his wasted life had - been. - "Now," he said, "my courage fails me when I think to mend my - ways. - I have wasted all God gave me,--mind, and strength, and length - of days,-- - And the gold I gave my soul for pulls me downward with its - weight; - Help me if you can, oh, help me! Say it is not yet too late." - And he looked with eyes beseeching at the Patriarch, who replied - With a smile that fell like sunshine on the faint heart by his - side,-- - - "What! too late for God's forgiveness, when He calls you to - repent? - 'T was to save you, not to lose you, that the blessd dream was - sent; - 'T is His help, not mine, my brother, you are needing, and you - know, - If we ask it, He will give it, for Himself has told us so. - And the prodigal returning shall be welcomed all the more - If the years were long and many since he left his Father's - door." - "But," said Troilus, "I am agd, and my manhood's strength is - past; - After such a life ungodly, can I hope for grace at last?" - "Never fear," the Patriarch answered, "there is joy in heaven - to-day, - And they ask not in their gladness if your hair be black or - gray." - - So then Troilus gathered courage, and that night, by deed and - word, - Gave himself and all his substance to the service of the Lord; - Yet in his own strength mistrusting, he implored his friend anew - With his daily prayer to aid him, and he promised so to do. - And the thirty golden pieces he returned to him again, - Yes, and other thirty with them, for the change was not in vain, - - Then he left the past behind him, and a better life began; - From that evening in the garden he became another man. - There was no more train about him when he walked the city - through, - For the priests who once attended now had better work to do; - And the ladies cared no longer from their balconies to lean, - When of worldly pomp and splendour there was nothing to be seen. - For the cross of many jewels on his bosom shone no more, - Having gone on works of mercy to increase his heavenly store. - But the poor and needy sought him; he was now their faithful - friend, - And they knew, whatever befell them, on his love they might - depend. - - So his closing days were happy, after years of sordid care, - For no gain can bring contentment till the poor have had their - share; - And he lightened many a burden, and he righted many a wrong, - And the wealth became a blessing that had been a curse so long; - And his secret hoard was scattered, and men said that he died - poor, - But he found great wealth in heaven at the end, we may be sure. - - - - - *The Crosses on the Wall* - - -This beautiful legend has for me a most peculiar interest, owing to the -circumstances under which I first heard it. It was taught to me by a -very dear young friend whom I had known and loved from his -infancy,--Piero, the only surviving child of Count Giuseppe Pasolini -Zanelli of Faenza. It was only last October--eight months ago--and we -were all staying together in the home of his beloved and still beautiful -grandmother, at Bassano, in the Veneto. It was the last evening that we -expected to pass together, and Pierino (we had never been able to give -up calling him by that childish diminutive) brought a book with him, a -collection of popular legends compiled by De Gubernatis, and said that -he had a story to read us. It was "The Crosses on the Wall," and it has -always seemed to me as though he read it on that particular evening to -prepare us for what was to come. For some months he had been not quite -so strong as usual, yet no one felt any particular apprehension, until -on the twenty-eighth of November he died, almost without warning. He was -twenty-two years old, of a very beautiful character,--so good that we -ought to have known he was not for us. - -With him two great and ancient families come to an end,--the -Pasolini-Zanelli of Faenza, and the Baroni-Semitecolo of Bassano: these -last are the only descendants of that Semitecolo who worked in mosaic at -Torcello. - - - *The Crosses on the Wall* - - *A Legend of Primiero* - - - Come, children, listen to what I tell, - For my words are wise to-day: - From Primiero among the hills - Was the legend brought away. - - And Primiero among the hills - Is a little world apart, - Where is much to love and much to learn, - If you have a willing heart. - - It lies on high, like a stranded ship, - From the parted wave of time; - Not far from the troubled world we know, - But the way is hard to climb. - - For the mountains rise and close it in, - With their walls of green and gray; - With crag and forest and smooth-worn cliff, - Where the clouds alone can stray. - - And when a house they have builded there, - If a blessing they would win, - Above the door do they write a prayer, - That Christ may dwell therein. - - And I think, throughout the ancient town, - On its steep ascending road, - In many a heart, in many a home, - Has He taken His abode. - - And when a burden is hard to bear-- - And such burdens come to all-- - They tell the story I 'm telling now, - Of the crosses on the wall. - - 'T is a pearl of wisdom, gathered far - In the dim and distant past; - But ever needed, but ever new, - As long as the world shall last. - - For never has been since earth was made, - And surely shall never be, - A man so happy or wise or great, - He might from the cross be free. - - The tale it is of a widow poor, - And by trouble sorely pressed; - Of how, through sorrow and many tears, - At the end her soul was blest. - - She had not been always poor and sad, - For her early years were bright, - With a happy home, and with parents kind, - And herself their hearts' delight! - - A mother's darling, a father's pride, - She was fair in form and face; - A sunny creature, a joy to all, - For her sweet and winning grace. - - Then, early married to one she loved, - She had still been shielded well; - For her he laboured, for her he thought, - And on her no burden fell. - - She worked, indeed; but what work was hers - Through the short and happy hours? - To pluck the fruit from her orchard trees, - Or to tend the garden flowers; - - To sit and spin, and to sing the while - In her porch with roses gay; - To spread the table with plenty piled, - And to watch the children play. - - Their home was a little nest of peace; - 'T was a mile beyond the town, - In that sheltered valley, green with woods, - Where the river murmurs down. - - And she never dreamed of change to come, - (Though a change must all expect,) - Till the blow, like lightning, on her fell, - And her happy life was wrecked. - - But who could have thought the man would die? - There were few so strong as he! - From his forest work they bore him home, - Struck dead by a falling tree. - - A petted child, and a wife beloved, - She had hardly sorrow known, - Till the strong, brave man was borne away, - And she faced the world alone. - - Alone, with a babe too young to speak, - And with other children five: - "Oh, why," she asked, "are the strong removed - And the feeble left alive?" - - But where is the good of asking - When our helpers disappear? - That question never was answered yet, - And it never will be, here. - - There was little time to sit and weep; - She must rise, and bear the strain; - Alone she stood, with the home to keep, - And the children's bread to gain. - - The best of herself had gone with him; - She had no more faith nor trust: - She could not bow to the Lord's decree, - For she felt it all unjust. - - The good Lord cares for a widow's need, - But on Him she did not call. - She laboured hard, and she fought with fate, - And they lived--but that was all. - - She fought her battle with fate, and failed, - As many have failed before; - If against the thorns we push and press, - They will only prick the more. - - She could not bear with the children now, - And she called them rude and wild; - Forgetting quite, in her sullen grief, - That she had been once a child. - - Yes, wild they were; and like all wild things - They were light and swift and strong; - And her poor, sick spirit turned away - From the gay, unruly throng. - - They swam the river, they climbed the trees, - They were full of life and play; - But oft, when their mother's voice they heard, - They hid from her sight away. - - They did not love her, and that she knew, - And of that she oft complained; - But not by threats nor by angry words - Could the children's love be gained. - - Respect and honour we may command; - They will come at duty's call: - But love, the beautiful thornless rose, - Grows wild, when it grows at all. - - And she grew bitter, as time went on, - Grew bitter and hard and sore. - Till one day she cried in her despair, - "I can bear my life no more! - - "Look down from Heaven, good Lord, and see - And pity my cruel fate! - Oh, come, and in mercy take away - My burden, for 't is too great! - - "My heart is breaking with all its load, - And I feel my life decline; - Never I think did the woman live - Who has borne a cross like mine!" - - To her cry for help an answer came, - And solemn it was, and strange! - For a silence deep around her fell, - And the place seemed all to change. - - She stood in a sad and sombre room, - Where from ceiling down to floor, - Along the wall and on every side, - There were crosses--nothing more. - - There were crosses old, and crosses new, - There were crosses large and small; - And in their midst there was One who stood - As the Master of them all. - - Before His presence her eyes dropped low, - And her wild complaining died; - For she knew the cross that He had borne - Was greater than all beside. - - And He bade her choose, and take away, - From among the many there, - Another cross, in exchange for hers, - That she found too great to bear. - - She looked for those that were least in size, - And she quickly lifted one; - But oh, 't was heavy, and pained her more - Than her own had ever done! - - She laid it back with a trembling hand-- - "And whose cross is that?" she cried; - "For heavier 't is than even mine!" - And a solemn voice replied: - - "That cross belongs to a maiden young, - But of youth she little knows; - For the days to her are days of pain, - And the night brings scant repose. - - "A helpless, suffering, useless thing! - And her pain will never cease, - Till death in pity will come one day, - And her troubles end in peace. - - "She never has walked the pleasant fields, - Nor has sat beneath the trees; - The hospital wall that shuts her in - Is the only world she sees. - - "She has no mother, she has no home, - And in strangers' hands she lies; - With none to care for her while she lives, - Nor weep for her when she dies." - - "But why is the cross so small, my Lord, - And why does her heart not break?" - "She counts it little," the answer came, - "For she bears it for my sake." - - The widow blushed with a sudden shame; - To her eyes the tears arose: - She dried them soon, and again she turned, - And another cross she chose. - - It fell from her hand against the wall, - And she let it there remain: - "That cross shall never be mine," she said, - "Though I take my own again! - - "And whose is this that I cannot hold? - For it seems to burn my hand! - And never, I think, was heart so strong - That could such a weight withstand." - - "The cross it is of a gentle wife, - And she wears it all unseen; - With early sorrow her hair is white, - But she keeps a smile serene. - - "She gave her heart to an evil man, - And she thought him good and true; - And long she trusted and long believed, - But at last the truth she knew. - - "She knows that his soul is stained with crime, - But the worst she still conceals; - Abuse and terror her sole reward, - And the Lord knows what she feels! - - "She cannot leave him, for love dies hard, - And her children bear his name; - But she prays for grace, to keep and guard - Their innocent lives from shame. - - "She trembles oft when his step she hears - On a lonely winter night; - And she hides her frightened babes afar - From their cruel father's sight. - - "And she dares not even hope for death, - Though his hand might set her free: - 'T were well for her in the grave to rest; - But where would the children be?" - - The widow shuddered, her face grew pale, - And she no more turned to look: - She reached her hand to the wall near by, - And a cross by chance she took. - - 'T was not so large as the first had been, - But it seemed a fearful weight! - "And whose am I holding now?" she asked, - For it did not look so great. - - "A mother's cross is the one you bear," - So the voice in answer said, - "And she once had children six like you; - But her children all are dead. - - "She has all besides that earth can give; - She has friends and wealth to spare, - And house and land--but she counts them not, - For the children are not there. - - "Time passes slowly, and she grows old; - But she may not yet depart. - In lonely splendour she counts the years, - With an empty, hungry heart. - - "And she knows by whom the cross was sent, - And she tries her head to bow; - But six green mounds by the churchyard wall - Are the most she cares for now." - - The widow thought of her own wild brood, - And she felt a creeping chill: - And, "Oh, give me back my cross!" she said, - "I will keep and bear it still. - - "Forgive me, Lord" (and with that she knelt, - And for very shame she wept). - "I know my sin, that I could not bow, - Nor Thy holy will accept. - - "Oh, give me patience, for life is hard; - And the daily strength I need! - And by Thy grace I will try to bear - The burden for me decreed. - - "I'll change my ways with the children now, - Though they give me added cares. - Poor babes! I know, if they love me not, - That the blame is mine, not theirs!" - - She kept her word as the weeks went on, - And she fought with fate no more: - 'T was now with a patient, humble heart - That her daily cross she bore. - - The children wondered to see her change - So greatly in look and speech! - She met them now with a smile so kind, - And a gentle word for each. - - And soon they learned, from her altered ways, - What her words had vainly taught; - Their love, that long she had claimed in vain, - Came back to her all unsought. - - There were merry shouts and dancing feet, - When the mother came in sight; - There were little arms around her thrown, - There were eyes with joy alight. - - With love for teacher, they learned to help, - There was work for fingers small: - Her heart grew soft like the earth in spring, - And she thanked the Lord for all! - - Her girls so pretty, her boys so brave, - And so helpful all and kind! - She wondered often, and thought with shame - Of how she had once repined. - - For in their presence she oft forgot - Her burden of want and care, - Forgot her trouble--forgot, almost, - That she had a cross to bear! - - - - - *Suora Marianna* - - - *Suora Marianna* - - - Little children, will you listen to a simple tale of mine, - That I learned at San Marcello, in the Tuscan Apennine, - From an agd, saintly woman, gone to heaven long ago? - It has helped me on my journey, and as yet you cannot know - Half the wisdom stored within it, nor the comfort it can give; - But still, try and not forget it! You will need it if you live, - And some day, when life is waning and your hands begin to tire, - You will think of Marianna, and her vision by the fire. - - In a convent, old and quiet, near a little country town, - On a chestnut-shaded hillside, to the river sloping down, - Dwelt a few of those good sisters who go out among the poor, - Who must labour late and early, and much weariness endure; - And the one who did in patience and in all good works excel - Was the Sister Marianna, she whose story now I tell. - - She was ever kind and willing, for each heavy task prepared: - No one ever thought to spare her, and herself she never spared. - All unpraised and all unnoticed, bearing burdens not her own, - Yet she lived as rich and happy as a queen upon her throne! - - She was rich, though few would think it; for God gave her grace - to choose, - Not the world's deceitful riches, but the wealth one cannot - lose. - There are many heap up treasure, but it is not every one - Who will take his treasure with him when his earthly life is - done. - - Was she beautiful? I know not. She had eyes of peaceful light, - And her face looked sweet and blooming in its frame of linen - white. - To the sick and heavy-hearted she was pleasant to behold, - And she seemed a heavenly vision to the feeble and the old. - She was happy when she wandered up the wandering mountain road, - Bearing food and warmth and blessing to some desolate abode, - Though the ice-cold winds were blowing and her woman's strength - was tried; - For she knew who walked there with her, in her heart and by her - side. - She was happy--oh, so happy!--in her little whitewashed cell - Looking out among the branches, where they gave her leave to - dwell - In her scanty hours of leisure; for there, looking from the - wall, - Were the dear and holy faces that she loved the best of all. - - 'T was an old and faded picture, poorly painted at the best, - Of Our Lord, the Holy Infant, in His Mother's arms at rest. - But her faith and loving fancy had a glory to it lent, - And the faces that she saw there were not what the artist meant - And the wooden shelf before it she would often-times adorn - With the buttercup and bluebell, and the wild rose from the - thorn, - Which she gathered, when returning, while the morning dew was - bright, - From some home, remote and lonely, where she watched the sick by - night. - So her life was full of sunshine, for in toiling for the Lord - She had found the hidden sweetness that in common things lies - stored: - He has strewn the earth with flowers, and each eye their - brightness sees; - But He filled their cups with honey, for His humble working - bees. - - But there came a time--poor sister!--when her rosy cheek grew - pale, - And her eyes, with all their sunlight, seemed to smile as - through a veil; - And her step was weak and heavy, as she trod the steep ascent, - Where through weeks of wintry weather to her loving work she - went. - 'T was a foot-path, lone and narrow, winding up among the trees, - And 't was hard to trace in winter, when the slippery ground - would freeze, - And the snow fall thick above it, hiding every sign and mark; - But she went that way so often she could climb it in the dark! - 'T was to nurse a poor young mother, by fierce malady assailed, - That she made the daily journey, and she never once had failed. - Now the short sharp days were over, and the spring had just - begun; - Every morn the light came sooner, and more strength was in the - sun. - - All around the grass was springing, and its tender verdure - spread, - Mid the empty burrs of chestnuts, and the old leaves, brown and - dead, - Low and small, but creeping, creeping till it almost touched the - edge - Of the daily lessening snow-drifts, under rock or thorny hedge. - From the wreck of last year's autumn life awakened, strong and - new, - And the buds were crowding upward, though as yet the flowers - were few. - - Many nights had she been watching, and with little rest by day, - For her heart was in the chamber where that helpless woman lay; - There the flame of life she cherished, when it almost ceased to - burn, - Praying God to help and keep them till the husband should - return. - - 'T was the old and common story, such as all of us can hear, - If we care to, in the mountains, every day throughout the year! - She who languished, weak and wasting, in the garret chamber - there, - Had been once as strong and happy as the wild birds in the air. - She had been a country beauty, for the boys to serenade; - And the poets sang about her, in the simple rhymes they made, - And with glowing words compared her to the lilies as they grew, - Or to stars, or budding roses, as their manner is to do. - Then the man who played at weddings with his ancient violin, - With his sad, impassioned singing, had contrived her heart to - win; - And one brilliant April morning he had brought her home, a - bride, - To his farm and low-built cottage on the mountain's terraced - side. - 'T was a poor, rough home to look at, and from neighbours far - away, - But with love and health and music there was much to make it - gay. - They were happy, careless people, and they thought not to - complain, - Though the door were cracked and broken, or the roof let in the - rain: - They could pile the fire with branches, while the winter storms - swept by; - - For the rest, their life was mostly out beneath the open sky. - Time had come, and brought its changes,--sunshine first, and - then the shade, - Frost untimely, chestnuts blighted. Sickness came, and debts - were made; - Fields were sold, alas, to pay them; yet their troubles did not - cease, - And the poor man's heart was troubled thus to see his land - decrease! - Fields were gone, and bread was wanting, for there now were - children small; - Much he loved them, much he laboured--but he could not feed them - all. - - So he left them, heavy-hearted, and his fortune went to try - In the low Maremma country, where men gain or where they die, - With its soft and treacherous beauty, with its fever-laden air; - But as yet the fever spared him, and they hoped it yet would - spare. - 'T was a long and cruel winter in the home he left behind: - Lonely felt the house without him, and the young wife moped and - pined: - Still her children's love sustained her, till this sickness laid - her low; - When good Sister Marianna came to nurse her, as you know. - - Week on week had hope been waning, as more feeble still she - grew: - Marianna tried, but vainly, every simple cure she knew. - Then the doctor gave up hoping, and his long attendance ceased: - "I can do no more," he told her; "you had better call the - priest. - To her husband I have written; he will have the news to-day: - If he cares again to see her, he had best be on his way!" - - Now the priest has done his office; at the open door he stands, - And he says to Marianna: "I can leave her in your hands,-- - I have other work that calls me; if to-night she chance to die, - You can say the prayers, good sister, for her soul as well as - I." - - So they left her, all unaided, in the house forlorn and sad, - Still to watch and think and labour with what failing strength - she had. - There was none to share her burden, none to speak to, none to - see-- - Save a helpful boy of seven, and a restless one of three, - And their little dark-eyed sister (she was five, and came - between), - And a baby, born that winter, which the father had not seen. - - Two days more! Her friend lay sleeping, and she watched beside - the bed: - In her arms she rocked the baby, while the Latin prayers she - said,-- - Prayers to help a soul departing;--yet she never quite - despaired! - Might not yet the Lord have pity, and that mother's life be - spared? - 'T was so hard to see her going--such a mother, kind and dear! - There was ne'er another like her in the country, far or near! - (So thought Sister Marianna.) Yet to murmur were a sin. - But her tears kept rising, rising, though she tried to hold them - in, - Till one fell and lay there shining, on the head that she - caressed, - Small and pretty, dark and downy, lying warm against her breast, - She was silent; something moved her that had neither place nor - part - In the grave and stately cadence of the prayers she knew by - heart. - Then she spoke, with eyes dilated, with her soul in every word, - As to one she saw before her--"Thou hast been a child, my Lord! - Thou hast lain as small and speechless as this infant on my - knees; - Thou hast stretched toward Thy Mother little helpless hands like - these: - Thou hast known the wants of children, then-- Oh, listen to my - plea, - For one moment, Lord, remember what Thy Mother was to Thee! - Think, when all was dark around Thee how her love did Thee - enfold; - How she tended, how she watched Thee; how she wrapped Thee from - the cold! - How her gentle heart was beating, on that night of tears and - strife, - When the cruel guards pursued Thee, when King Herod sought Thy - life! - How her arms enclosed and hid Thee, through that midnight - journey wild! - Oh, for love of Thine own Mother, save the mother of this - child!" - - Now she paused and waited breathless; for she seemed to know and - feel - That the Lord was there, and listened to her passionate appeal. - Then she bowed her head, all trembling; but a light was in her - eye, - For her soul had heard the answer: that young mother would not - die! - Yes, the prayer of faith had saved her! And a change began that - day: - When she woke her breath was easy, and the pain had passed away. - So the day that dawned so sadly had a bright and hopeful close, - And a solemn, sweet thanksgiving from the sister's heart arose. - - Now the night had closed around them, and a lonesome night it - seemed! - For the sky was black and starless, and for hours the rain had - streamed: - And the wind and rain together made a wild and mournful din, - As they beat on door and window, madly struggling to come in. - - Marianna, faint and weary with the strain of many days, - On the broad stone hearth was kneeling, while she set the fire - ablaze, - For the poor lone soul she cared for would, ere morning, need to - eat. - "Now, God help me," said the sister, "this night's labour to - complete!" - 'T was a meal she knew would please her, which she lovingly - prepared, - Of that best and chosen portion, from the convent table spared, - Which she brought, as was her habit, with much other needed - store, - In the worn old willow basket, standing near her on the floor. - - On her work was much depending, so she planned to do her best; - And she set the earthen pitcher on the coals as in a nest, - With the embers laid around it; then she thought again, and cast - On the pile a few gray ashes, that it might not boil too fast. - But the touch of sleep was on her, she was dreaming while she - planned, - And the wooden spoon kept falling from her limp and listless - hand. - Then she roused her, struggling bravely with this languor, which - she viewed - As a snare, a sore temptation, to be fought with and subdued. - But another fear assailed her--what if she should faint or fall? - And to-night the storm-swept cottage seems so far away from all! - How the fitful wind is moaning! And between the gusts that - blow, - She can hear the torrent roaring, in the deep ravine below. - - And her head is aching strangely, as it never did before: - "Good Lord, help me!" she is saying: "this can last but little - more! - O my blessd Lord and Master, only help me through the night-- - Only keep my eyes from closing till they see the morning light! - For that mother and that baby do so weak and helpless lie, - And with only me to serve them,--if I leave them, they may die! - She is better--yes, I know it, but a touch may turn the scale. - I can send for help to-morrow, but to-night I must not fail!" - 'T was in vain; for sleep had conquered, and the words she tried - to say - First became a drowsy murmur, then grew faint and died away. - And she slept as sleep the weary, heedless how the night went - on, - With her pitcher all untended, with her labour all undone; - On the wall her head reclining, in the chimney's empty space, - While the firelight flared and flickered on her pale and - peaceful face. - Was her humble prayer unanswered? Oh, the Lord has many a way - That His children little think of, to send answers when they - pray! - It was long she sat there sleeping--do you think her work was - spoiled? - No, the fir-wood fire kept burning, and the pitcher gently - boiled: - Ne'er a taint of smoke had touched it, nor one precious drop - been spilt; - When she moved and looked around her, with a sudden sense of - guilt. - But her eyes, when first they opened, saw a vision, strange and - sweet, - For a little Child was standing on the hearth-stone at her feet. - And He seemed no earthly infant, for His robe was like the snow, - And a glory shone about Him that was not the firelight glow. - And Himself her work was doing! For He kept the fire alive, - And He watched the earthen pitcher, that no danger might arrive - To the simple meal, now ready, with the coals around it piled; - Then He turned His face toward her, and she knew the Holy Child. - 'T was her Lord who stood before her! And she did not shrink - nor start-- - There was more of joy than wonder in her all-believing heart. - When her willing hands were weary, when her patient eyes were - closed, - He had finished all she failed in, He had watched while she - reposed. - Do you ask of His appearance? Human words are weak and cold; - 'T is enough to say she knew Him--that is all she ever told. - Yes, as you and I will know Him when that happy day shall come, - When, if we on earth have loved Him, He will bid us welcome - home! - But with that one look He left her, and the vision all had - passed, - (Though the peace it left within her to her dying hour would - last!) - Storm had ceased, and wind was silent, there was no more sound - of rain, - And the morning star was shining through the window's broken - pane. - - Later, when the sun was rising, Marianna looked to see, - O'er the stretch of rain-washed country, what the day was like - to be, - While the door she softly opened, letting in the morning breeze, - As it shook the drops by thousands from the wet and shining - trees. - And she saw the sky like crystal, for the clouds had rolled - away, - Though they lay along the valleys, in their folds of misty grey, - Or to mountain sides were clinging, tattered relics of the - storm. - And among the trees below her she could see a moving form; - 'T was the husband home returning, yes, thank God! he came at - last: - There was no one else would hasten up that mountain road so - fast. - Now the drooping boughs concealed him, now he came in sight - again; - All night long had he been walking in the darkness, in the rain; - Through the miles of ghostly forest, through the villages - asleep, - He had borne his burden bravely, till he reached that hillside - steep; - And as yet he seemed not weary, for his springing step was - light, - But his face looked worn and haggard with the anguish of the - night. - Now his limbs began to tremble, and he walked with laboured - breath, - For he saw his home before him, should he find there life or - death? - How his heart grew faint within him as he neared the wished-for - place! - One step more, his feet had gained it, they were standing face - to face. - "God has helped us!" was her answer to the question in his eye; - And her smile of comfort told him that the danger had gone by. - - It was morning now, fair morning! and the broken sunlight fell - Through the boughs that crossed above her, where the buds began - to swell, - As adown the sloping pathway, that her feet so oft had pressed, - Went the Sister Marianna to her convent home to rest. - It was spring that breathed around her, for the winter strove no - more, - And the snowdrifts all had vanished with the rain the night - before. - Now a bee would flit beside her, as she lightly moved along; - Or a bird among the branches tried a few low notes of song. - But her heart had music sweeter than the bird-notes in her ears! - She was leaving joy behind her in that home of many tears: - Hope was there, and health returning; there were happy voice and - smile, - For the father at his coming had brought plenty for a while. - And she knew with whom she left them, for herself His care had - proved, - When her mortal eyes were opened, and she saw the face she - loved, - On that night of storm and trouble, when to help her He had - come, - As He helped His own dear Mother in their humble earthly home. - - As she went the day grew warmer; sweeter came the wild bird's - call; - Then, what made her start and linger? 'T was a perfume, that - was all: - Faint, but yet enough to tell her that the violets were in - bloom; - And she turned aside to seek them, for that picture in her room. - - - - - *The Lupins* - - -The simple story of "The Lupins" is very commonly known among the -country people, who often quote it as a remedy for discontent. - - - *The Lupins* - - - 'T was a day in late November, - When the fruits were gathered in; - Day to dream in, and remember - All the beauty that had been. - - Peacefully the year was dying; - Soft the air, and deep the blue; - Brown and bare the fields were lying, - Where the summer harvest grew. - - Autumn flowers had bloomed and seeded; - Yet a few of humblest kind, - Waiting till they most were needed, - Brought the pleasant days to mind. - - Here and there a red-tipped daisy - Still its small bright face would show; - While above the distance hazy - Rose the mountains, white with snow. - - With a light subdued and tender, - Shone the sun on vale and hill, - Where the faded autumn splendour - Left a sober sweetness still. - - By a road that wandered, winding, - Far among the hills away, - Walked a man, despondent, finding - Little comfort in the day. - - Pale of tint and fine of feature, - Formed with less of strength than grace, - Seldom went a sadder creature, - Seeking work from place to place. - - He from noble race descended, - Heir to wealth and honoured name, - Who had oft the poor befriended - When about his door they came, - - By a brother's evil doing - Had to poverty been brought: - Now his listless way pursuing, - Ever on the past he thought. - - He, to hope no longer clinging, - Drifted, led he knew not where, - By a sound of far-off singing - Floating in the dreamy air,-- - - Many voices sweetly blending, - Sounding o'er the hills remote, - Every verse the same, and ending - In one plaintive, long-drawn note. - - "Olive gatherers, I know them, - Singing songs from tree to tree; - If the road will lead me to them, - There are food and work for me." - - He a humble meal was making, - While he warmed him in the sun; - From his pocket slowly taking - Yellow lupins, one by one. - - Most forlorn he felt and lonely, - While he ate them on the way; - For those lupins, and they only, - Were his food for all the day. - - Since to shame his brother brought him, - Want had often pressed him sore; - Yet misfortune never brought him - Quite so low as this before! - - "If my lot be hard and painful, - There 's one comfort still for me;" - (Said he, with a smile disdainful,) - "Poorer, I can never be. - - "There's no lower step to stand on, - No more burning shame to feel: - Not a crust to lay my hand on, - Only lupins for a meal!" - - He could see the laden table - Where his parents used to dine: - Well for them who were not able - Then the future to divine. - - Oh, but he was glad God took them - Ere they saw him fall so low: - How their cherished hope forsook them, - They had never lived to know. - - "I, so dearly loved and cared for, - I, on whom such hopes were built, - Whom such blessings were prepared for-- - Ruined by a brother's guilt!" - - Now he wrung his hands despairing, - Stamped his foot upon the ground; - Bitter thoughts his heart were tearing,-- - When he heard a footstep sound. - - Then he started, sobered quickly, - Took an attitude sedate, - With that terror, faint and sickly, - Which he often felt of late. - - What if some old friend should find him? - But he turned, the story tells, - And he saw a man behind him, - Picking up the lupin shells; - - Picking up the shells and eating - What the other cast away. - Now abashed, their eyes were meeting: - 'T was a beggar, worn and gray, - - Hollow-eyed and thin and wasted; - By his look you might suppose, - He had ne'er a morsel tasted - Since the sun that morning rose. - - Stood the younger man astonished, - And no more bewailed his fate; - Only bowed his head, admonished - By the sight of want so great. - - Then he said: "Come here, my brother, - And the lupins we will share; - Maybe, if we help each other, - God will have us in His care." - - "Thank the Lord! and you, kind master! - May He help you in your need; - Save your soul from all disaster - And remember your good deed!" - - Said the beggar, smiling brightly. - And the other thus replied,-- - Now content, and walking lightly - By his poorer neighbour's side,-- - - "Friend, you have a blessing brought me. - And I thank you in my turn, - For a lesson you have taught me - Which I needed much to learn. - - "And henceforth will I endeavour - Not to pine for fortune high, - But remember there is ever - Some one lower down than I. - - "But alas, when I was younger, - Wealth and honoured state were mine; - Shame, my friend, is worse than hunger: - 'T is for this that I repine." - - Then the beggar rose up stately, - Looked the other in the face, - Saying (for he wondered greatly), - "Poverty is no disgrace; - - "For our Lord, I think, was poorer - Once than you or even I, - And His poor of Heaven are surer - Than the rich who pass them by." - - So the two went on together, - Casting on the Lord their care, - Happy in the balmy weather, - Happy in their simple fare. - - Now an ancient olive o'er them - Threw its slender lines of shade, - Bending low its boughs before them, - Silver-leafed that cannot fade; - - Bearing fruit in winter season, - Still through every change the same: - Tree of peace--they had good reason - Who have called it by that name! - - And with that the story leaves them; - You can end it as you please: - Gain that cheers, or loss that grieves them, - Life of toil, or life of ease. - - Did some fortune unexpected - Give to one his wealth again? - Or did both, forlorn, neglected, - End their days in want and pain? - - Many years have they been dwelling - Where such trifles of the way - Are not counted worth the telling! - Both are with the Lord to-day. - - He in whom their souls confided - Did for both a home prepare; - Yet that humble meal divided - Gives a blessing even there. - - - - - *The Silver Cross* - - -The story of "St. Caterina of Siena and her Silver Cross" is one of her -many visions, recorded by her confessor. - - - *The Silver Cross* - - - Through the streets of old Siena, at the dawning of the day, - Went the holy Caterina, as the bells began to sound; - With the light of peace celestial in her eyes of olive gray, - For her soul was with the angels, while her feet were on the - ground. - - She was fair as any lily, with as delicate a grace; - And the air of early morning had just tinged her cheek with - rose: - Yet one hardly thought of beauty in that pale, illumined face, - That the souls in trouble turned to, finding comfort and repose. - - And the men their heads uncovered, though they dared not speak - her praise, - When they saw her like a vision down the row street descend; - And they wondered what she looked at, with that far-off dreamy - gaze, - While her lips were often moving, as though talking to a friend. - - There were few abroad so early, and she scarcely heard a sound, - Save the cooing of the pigeons, as about her feet they strayed, - Or the bell that sweetly called her to the church where she was - bound; - While the palaces around her stood in silence and in shade. - - And the towers built for warfare rose about her, dark and proud, - But their summits caught a glory, as the morning onward came, - And the summer sky beyond them was alight with fleecy cloud, - Where the gray of dawn was changing, first to rose and then to - flame. - - By a shrine of the Madonna, at a corner where she passed, - Stood a stranger leaning on it, as though weary and forlorn, - With a bundle slung behind him and a cloak about him cast; - For he shivered in the freshness of the pleasant summer morn. - - Said the stranger, "Will you help me?" and she looked on him and - knew, - By his hand that trembled feebly as he held it out for aid, - By his eyes that were so heavy, and his lips of ashen hue, - That the terrible Maremma had its curse upon him laid. - - So she listened to his story, that was pitiful to hear, - Of a widowed mother waiting on the mountain for her son; - How to help her he had laboured till the summer time drew near, - And of how the fever took him just before his work was done. - - He was young and he was hopeful, and the smile began to come - In his eyes, as though they thanked her for the pity she - bestowed, - And he said: "I shall recover if I reach my mountain home, - And if some good Christian people will but help me on the road. - - "For I go to Casentino, where the air is pure and fine, - But my strength too often fails me, and the place is far away; - So I pray you give me something, for a little bread and wine, - That I may not set out fasting on my weary walk to-day." - - Then a certain faint confusion with her pity seemed to blend, - And her face, so sweet and saintly, showed the shadow of a - cloud, - As she said: "I am no lady, though you call me so, my friend, - But a poor Domenicana who to poverty am vowed. - - "I can give a prayer to help you on your journey, nothing more, - For these garments I am wearing are the sisterhood's, not mine, - And the very bread they gave me when I left the convent door - To a beggar by the wayside I this morning did consign. - - "I would give you all you ask for if I had it to command." - Then she sighed and would have left him, but the stranger made - her stay, - For he held her by the mantle, with his cold and wasted hand: - "For the love of Christ, my lady, do not send me thus away!" - - He had used the name unthinking, but it moved her none the less, - And she turned again toward him, with a softened, solemn air, - While her hand began to wander up and down her simple dress, - As though vaguely it were seeking for some trifle she could - spare. - - Then the rosary she lifted that was hanging at her waist, - And its silver cross unfastened, which was small and very old, - With the edges worn and rounded and the image half effaced, - Yet she loved it more than lady ever loved a cross of gold. - - It had been her life companion, in the tempest, in the calm; - She had held it to her bosom when she prayed with troubled mind; - And she kissed it very gently, as she laid it in his palm, - "For the love of Christ, then, take it; 'tis the only thing I - find." - - So he thanked her and departed, and she thought of him no more, - Save to ask the Lord to help him, when that day in church she - prayed; - But the cross of Caterina on his heart the stranger wore, - And her presence unforgotten like a blessing with him stayed. - - Now the city life is stirring, and the streets are in the sun, - And the bells ring out their music o'er the busy town again, - As the people slowly scatter from the church where Mass is done; - But the blessd Caterina in her seat did still remain. - - For the sleep divine was on her, which so often to her came, - When of mortal life the shadow from around her seemed to fall; - And she looked on things celestial with her happy soul aflame: - But that day the dream that held her was the sweetest of them - all. - - For the Lord appeared in glory, and he seemed to her to stand - In a chamber filled with treasures such as eye had never seen; - And a cross of wondrous beauty He was holding in His hand, - Set with every stone most precious and with pearls of light - serene. - - And He told her that those treasures were the presents He - received - From the souls on earth who love Him, and are seeking Him to - please. - Were they deeds of noble service? that was what she first - believed, - And she thought, "What happy people who can bring Him gifts like - these!" - - For herself could offer nothing, and she sighed to think how far - From the best she ever gave him were the gems in that bright - store. - But He held the cross toward her, that was shining like a star, - And He bade her look and tell Him had she seen it e'er before. - - "No," she answered humbly, "never did my eyes the like behold." - But a flood of sudden sweetness came upon her like a wave, - For she saw among the jewels and the work of beaten gold - Was the little Cross of Silver that for love of Christ she gave. - - And I think her dream that morning was a message from above, - That a proof of deepest meaning we might learn and understand,-- - Though our very best be worthless that we give for Jesus' love, - It will change and turn to glory when He takes it in His hand. - - - - - *The Tears of Repentance* - - -THE TEARS OF REPENTANCE I found in a book called _Maraviglie di Dio ne' -Suoi Santi_, by the Jesuit Father, Padre Carlo Gregorio Rosignoli, -printed at Bologna in 1696. He says it was written originally by -Theophilus Raynaudus. - - - *The Tears of Repentance* - - _PART FIRST_ - - *THE MOUNTAIN* - - - A wild, sad story I tell to-day, - And I pray you to listen all! - You cannot think how my heart is moved - As the legend I recall,-- - - The legend that made me weep so oft, - When I was a child like you! - I tell it now, in my life's decline, - And it brings the tears anew. - - It came to us down through ages long; - For this story had its scene - In the far-away, gorgeous, stormy days - Of the empire Byzantine. - - And it tells of a famous mountain chief, - A terrible, fierce brigand, - Who ravaged the country, far and wide, - At the head of an armd band. - - So hard of heart was this evil man - That he spared not young nor old: - He killed and plundered, and burned and spoiled, - In his maddening thirst for gold; - - Would come with a swoop on a merchant troop, - That peacefully went its way, - And the counted gains of a journey long - Were scattered in one short day! - - He knew no pity, he owned no law, - Nor human, nor yet divine; - Would take the gold from a Prince's chest, - Or the lamp from a wayside shrine. - - In hidden valley, in wild ravine, - On desolate, heath-grown hill, - He buried his treasure away from sight, - And most of it lies there still. - - And none were free in that land to dwell, - Except they a tribute paid; - For the robber chief, who was more than king, - Had this burden on them laid. - - If any dared to resist the claim, - He was met with vengeance dire; - His lands were wasted before the dawn, - And his harvest burned with fire. - - And some day maybe himself was slain, - And left in the road to lie; - To fill with terror the quaking heart - Of the next who journeyed by. - - And many fled to the towns afar, - And their fields were left untilled; - While want and trouble and trembling fear - Had the stricken country filled. - - High up on a mountain's pathless side - Had the robber made his den, - In a rocky cave, where he reigned supreme - Over twenty lawless men. - - A price had long on his head been set, - But for that he little cared; - For few were they who could climb the way, - And fewer were those who dared. - - For those who hunted him long before - Had a fearful story brought: - They were not men on the mountain side, - But demons who with them fought! - - For horrible forms arose, they said, - As if from the earth they grew; - And rolled down rocks from the cliffs above - On any who might pursue. - - From town to town and from land to land, - Had his evil fame been spread; - And voices lowered and lips grew grave - When the hated name they said. - - The people's heart had grown faint with fear, - And they thought no hope remained; - But hope again on their vision dawned, - When the Emperor's ear they gained. - - Mauritius reigned o'er the nations then; - He was great in warlike fame, - And he was not one to shrink or quake - At a mountain bandit's name. - - He sent a band of a hundred strong - For the troubled land's release, - To kill the man and his bloody crew, - And to give the country peace. - - For what was a robber chief to him? - He had conquered mighty kings; - He gave the order, and then 't was done, - And he thought of other things. - - But few, alas, of that troop returned, - And they told a ghostly tale; - And women wept, and the strongest men, - As they heard, grew mute and pale. - - Those soldiers oft in the war had been, - And they counted danger light; - From mortal foe had they never turned, - But with demons who could fight? - - The Emperor silent was and grave, - For his thoughts were deep and wise; - He saw that the robber chief was one - Whom he could not well despise. - - There might be reason in what they said, - That the demons gave him aid, - And earthly weapon would ne'er be found - That could make such foes afraid. - - But yet they will flee from sacred things, - And the martyred saints, he knew, - Have holy virtue, that to them clings, - That can all their spells undo. - - But how could such weapon reach the soul - That for years had owned their sway? - A question grave that he pondered long; - But at length he found a way. - - A reliquary he made prepare; - It was all of finest gold: - For as monarch might with monarch treat, - He would serve this bandit bold. - - The gold was his, but the work he gave - To the skilled and patient hand - Of an artist monk, who counted then - For the first in all the land. - - Now see him close to his labour bent, - In a cell remote and high, - Where all he saw of the world without - Was a square of roof and sky. - - A holy man was this artist monk, - And for gain he did not ask, - If only the Lord his work would bless, - For his heart was in the task. - - And day by day from his touch came forth - The image of holy things; - The cross was there, and the clustered vine, - And the dove with outspread wings,-- - - The dove that bore in her golden beak - The olive in sign of peace, - And still, as he wrought, his hand kept time - To the prayer that would not cease! - - For pity stirred in him when he thought - Of that dark and stormy breast, - So hard, so hopeless, from God so far, - Where the little shrine would rest. - - And perhaps if angels were looking on, - (And I doubt not some were there!) - They saw that the work was sown with pearls, - And each pearl a burning prayer. - - So weeks went on, and the shrine was done, - And within it, sealed and closed, - Were holy relics of martyred saints - Who near in the church reposed. - - And trusted messengers bore it forth - To the distant mountain land; - With such a weapon they need not fear; - They could meet the famed brigand. - - 'T was winter now on the mountain-side, - And the way was long and hard, - As the faithful envoys upward toiled - In their bandit escort's guard,-- - - Toiled up to a grove of ancient firs, - For that was the place designed, - Where, after parley and long delay, - Had the meeting been combined. - - No sound but their feet that crushed the snow, - And the world looked sad and dead; - They thought of lives on the mountain lost, - And it was not much they said. - - The sun, as it shone with slanting ray - Through the stripped and silent trees, - Could melt but little the clinging ice - Which to-night again would freeze. - - They reached the grove, and the chief was there, - Like a king in savage state; - Erect and fearless, above them all, - While his men around him wait. - - He stood before them like what he was, - A terrible beast of prey; - But even tigers have something grand, - And he looked as grand as they. - - But, oh, the look that he on them turned! - It was fearful to behold; - It chilled their hearts, but they did not shrink, - For their faith had made them bold. - - And looking straight in those gloomy eyes, - With their hard and cruel glare, - "We come," said one, "in the Emperor's name, - And from him a token bear." - - Then said the chief, with a mocking smile, - "And what may my Lord command?" - And made a sign with his evil eye, - For the men on guard to stand. - - No faith had he in a tale so wild, - And he somewhat feared a snare; - There might be others in hiding near, - But he did not greatly care. - - Then forth came he who the relics bore,-- - 'T was a prudent man and brave,-- - And into the hand that all men feared, - He the holy token gave. - - "This gift to you has the Emperor sent, - In token of his good will," - He said; and at first the fierce brigand - Stood in wonder, hushed and still. - - What felt he then as that holy thing - In his guilty hand he took? - What changed his face for a moment's time - To an almost human look? - - There lay the shrine in his open palm. - Yet he thought it could not be: - "For me?" he asked, but his voice was strange. - And again he said, "for me?" - - Three times the messenger told his tale, - And he said 't was all he knew; - The bandit looked at the wondrous work, - And he could not doubt 't was true. - - So over his neck the chain he hung, - The shrine on his bosom lay - With all its wealth of a thousand prayers; - And they were not cast away. - - Day followed day in the bandit's cave, - And a restless man was he; - A heart so hard and so proud as his - With the saints could ill agree. - - The holy relics that on it lay - Did a strange confusion make; - In all that most he had loved before, - He could no more pleasure take. - - A charm there was in the golden shrine - That had all his soul possessed; - He sat and looked at each sacred sign - With a dreamy sense of rest. - - 'T was not the gold that could soothe him thus, - And 't was not the work so fine: - 'T was the holy soul of the artist monk, - For it lived in every line. - - Like one who sleeps when the day begins, - And, before his slumbers end, - The morning light and the morning sounds - With his dreaming fancies blend; - - So now and then would his heart be stirred - By a feeling strange and new, - And thoughts he never had known before - In his mind unconscious grew. - - Till on a sudden his blinding pride, - Like a bubble, failed and broke; - With eyes wide open, the guilty man - From his life-long dream awoke. - - From graves forgotten his crimes came forth, - In his face they seemed to stare: - To all one day will such waking come; - God grant it be here, not there. - - Then wild remorse on his heart took hold, - And beneath its burning sting - He shrank from himself as one might shrink - From a venomous, hateful thing. - - For scenes of blood from the years gone by - Forever before him came; - He closed his eyes, and his face he hid, - But he saw them just the same. - - And in the horror he dared not pray, - For he felt his soul accurst, - And he feared to live, and he feared to die, - And he knew not which was worst. - - Yet far on high, and beyond his reach, - He could see a vision dim, - A far-off glory of peace and love; - But he felt 't was not for him. - - Awhile his trouble he hid from all, - For his will was iron strong, - But never was man, since man was made, - Who could bear such torment long, - - A strange, sick longing was growing up - In his spirit, day by day, - A longing for what he most had feared,-- - To let justice have her way; - - Until the will to a purpose grew, - To the Emperor's feet to fly, - To own his sin without prayer or plea, - And then give up all and die. - - And so one night, without sound or word, - Away in the dark he stole, - And all that he took for his journey long - Was the weight of a burdened soul. - - They waited long in that den of crime, - But they saw their chief no more; - Or dead or living, they found him not, - Though they searched the mountain o'er. - - And in the country, so long oppressed, - When his sudden flight was known, - They spoke of a wild and fearful night, - When the fiends had claimed their own. - - And soon the tale to a legend turned, - And men trembling used to tell - Of how they carried him, body and soul, - To the place where demons dwell. - - His men, so bold, were in mortal fear - Of what might themselves befall; - So some in a convent refuge sought, - And the rest were scattered all. - - And no one climbed to their empty cave, - For 't was called a haunted place, - Though soon the summer had swept away - Of its horror every trace, - - And mountain strawberries nestled low, - And delicate harebells hung, - In beauty meek, from its broken arch, - Where the swallows reared their young. - - But where had he gone, that man of woe? - Had he found the rest he sought? - In haste he went, but with noiseless tread, - As his bandit life had taught. - - And going downward he met the spring, - With its mingled sun and showers; - But storms of winter he bore within, - And he did not see the flowers. - - And how did he live from day to day, - And the ceaseless strain endure? - Kind hearts there are that can feel for all, - And the poor will help the poor. - - In frightened pity, a shepherd girl, - As she fled o'er the daisied grass, - Would let the bread from her apron fall - On the turf where he should pass; - - Or workmen, eating their noonday meal - On a bank beside the way, - Would give him food, but with outstretched arm, - And they asked him not to stay. - - He went like a shadow taken shape - From some vague and awful dream, - And word of comfort for him was none, - In his misery so extreme. - - Alas, from himself he could not flee, - Though he tried, poor haunted man; - And he reached the city beside the sea, - As the Holy Week began. - - - - _PART SECOND_ - - - 'T was Sunday morn, and a hundred bells - With their sweet and saintly sound - Were calling the people in to prayer - From the pleasant hills around,-- - - The morn when strivings should end in peace, - And each wrong forgotten be, - That Holy Week may its blessing shed - Upon souls from discord free. - - The streets were bright with a moving throng, - And before the palace gate, - With eager eyes and in garments gay, - Did a crowd expectant wait. - - For the Emperor goes in solemn state, - With his court, like all the rest, - To the church with many lamps ablaze, - Where to-day the palms are blest. - - And stately ladies and timid girls, - In their modest plain attire, - From curtained windows are looking down, - And the shifting scene admire. - - They come, they come, from the cool deep shade - Of the courtyard's marble arch,-- - The nobles all in their rich array, - And the guards with sounding march. - - And stay, the square is as still as death, - For the Emperor passes now; - The girls at the window hold their breath, - And the people bend and bow. - - But who is this that among them moves - With that quick and stately pace? - What see they all in his rigid look, - That they shrink and give him place? - - Too late the guards would have barred the way, - For he darted swiftly by, - As hunted creatures, when hard beset, - To man in their terror fly. - - And sinking low at the feet of him - He had come so far to see, - He waited silent with folded hands, - Nor asked what his fate should be. - - "Who are you, come in such deep distress, - And what is the grace you seek?" - The Emperor's voice was grave and kind, - And the stranger tried to speak. - - The golden casket he raised in sight, - While he bent his eyes for shame; - Then said he, "I am that wicked man," - And he told the dreaded name. - - A shudder fell upon all who heard, - But the people nearer drew; - From mouth to mouth, in a whisper low, - The name of the bandit flew. - - While he, uplifting those woful eyes, - In the boldness of despair, - With ne'er a thought of the crowd who heard, - His errand did thus declare: - - "I come not here to confess my sins, - For you know them all too well; - My crimes are many and black and great, - They are more than tongue can tell. - - "But here at your feet my life I lay, - I have nothing else to give; - So now, if it please you, speak the word, - For I am not fit to live." - - The words came straight from his broken heart - In such sad and simple style, - That the Emperor's firm, proud lips were moved - To a somewhat softened smile. - - For his warlike spirit felt the charm - Of that savage strength and grace, - And the strange fierce beauty that lingered still - In the dark and troubled face. - - So grand of form and so lithe of limb, - And still in his manhood's prime, - 'T would be a pity for one like him - To perish before his time. - - And 't was well to see him kneeling there, - Whose terror had filled the land, - Like a captive tiger, caught and tamed - By his own imperial hand. - - "Arise," he said, "you have nought to fear, - Take comfort and go your way, - And may God in heaven my sins forgive, - As I pardon yours to-day." - - A murmur rose from the crowded square, - At the sound of words like these; - For some rejoiced in the mercy shown, - And others it did not please. - - Some thanked the Lord for the pardoned man, - And some were to scorn inclined; - And motherly women wiped their eyes, - For the women's hearts are kind. - - "God bless our Emperor," many said; - But others began to frown. - And asked, "Will he turn this wild brigand - Adrift in our peaceful town?" - - No word of thanks did the bandit say, - But he raised one shining fold - Of the robe imperial, trailing low - With its weight of gems and gold. - - The border first to his lips he pressed, - And then to his heavy heart; - Then rose and waited with bended head, - Till he saw them all depart. - - No eye had he for the gorgeous train, - As along the square it passed; - One stately presence was all he knew, - And he watched it till the last. - - A heavy sigh, and he turned away, - But with slow and weary tread; - No rest as yet on the earth for him, - Not even among the dead. - - He lived, and he bore his burden still, - But the dumb despair had ceased: - That word of mercy had brought a change, - And he now had tears, at least; - - He now could pray, though it brought not light, - And he seemed to ask in vain, - And his prayer had more of tears than words, - But it helped him bear the pain. - - And oft in church did they see him kneel - In some corner all alone, - And weep till the great hot drops would fall - On the floor of varied stone. - - And children clung to their mothers' hand, - When they saw that vision wild,-- - That haggard face, and that wasting form, - And those lips that never smiled. - - But grief was wearing his life away, - And for him perhaps 't was well; - It was not long on the city street - That his saddening shadow fell. - - A fever slowly within him burned, - Till the springs of life were dry, - And glad he was when they laid him down - On a hospital bed to die. - - His heart was broken, his strength was gone, - He had no more wish to live; - He almost hoped that the Lord on high, - Like the Emperor, might forgive; - - That somewhere down in the peaceful earth - He should find a refuge yet, - A place to rest and his eyes to close, - And the woful past forget. - - He could not lie where the others lay, - For such gloom around him spread, - That soon in a chamber far away - Had they set his friendless bed. - - 'T was there he suffered and wept and prayed, - From the eyes of all concealed: - Alas! but it takes a weary time - For a life like his to yield. - - The grand old hospital where he died - Was beneath the watchful care - Of a certain doctor, famed afar - For his skill and learning rare. - - But more than learning and more than skill - Was his heart, so large and kind, - That knew the trouble and felt the needs - Of the sick who near him pined. - - With conscience pure had he served the Lord - From youth till his hair was grey, - Yet only pity he felt, not scorn, - For the many feet that stray. - - In troubled scenes had his life been passed; - He was used to woe and sin, - And when men suffered he did not ask - If their lives had blameless been. - - His part was but to relieve their pain, - And he helped and soothed and cheered; - But most he cared for the stricken man - Whom the others shunned and feared. - - Each art to save him he tried in vain, - And it could but useless prove, - For the poisoned thorn that pierced his heart - Could no earthly hand remove, - - When hope had failed, he would kneel and pray, - And his heart with tears outpour, - That God in mercy would comfort send - To that soul in torment sore. - - And though the burden he might not lift, - He could help its weight to bear; - He talked of mercy, of peace to come, - And he bade him not despair. - - And so, on the last sad night of all, - 'T was the brave, good doctor came - To watch alone by the bandit's side, - When he died of grief and shame. - - The spring to summer was wearing on, - 'T was the fairest night in May, - When sleep to those eyes in mercy came, - And the deadly strain gave way. - - No candle burned, for the moon was full, - And the peaceful splendour fell - Through the open window, lighting all: - It was like a kind farewell. - - And scents from the garden floated in, - And the silent fireflies came, - And breathed and vanished, and breathed again, - With their soft mysterious flame. - - The doctor watched with a heavy heart, - His head on his hand was bowed; - He thought how many his prayers had been, - But they could not lift the cloud. - - 'T was over now, there was nothing left - For his pitying love to do; - The worn-out body would rest at last, - But the guilty soul,--who knew? - - No more to do but to watch and wait - Till the failing breath should cease; - He longed, as the counted minutes flew, - For one parting smile of peace. - - He looked: a handkerchief veiled the eyes, - For they wept until the end, - And sadly still on the wasted cheek - Did a few slow drops descend. - - The peace that oft to the dying comes - Was to him as yet denied,-- - No sunset clear after stormy day, - And no brightening ere he died. - - "Alas! he will go away to-night, - And without one hopeful sign, - Away from pity, away from care, - And from such poor help as mine!" - - The doctor sighed, but he hoped as well, - For he said, "It cannot be - That the Lord, who died for all, will have - No mercy for such as he." - - 'T was then that sleep on the doctor fell, - And before him stood revealed, - In dreaming vision, a wondrous sight, - From his waking eyes concealed. - - For other watchers were in the room, - And he knew the ghastly throng - Of demon spirits, the very same - Whom the man had served so long. - - And two were leaning across the bed, - And another pressed behind, - And some in the shadow waiting stood, - With a chain his soul to bind. - - But angels watched by the bedside too; - 'T was a strange and solemn scene,-- - The angels here and the demons there, - And the dying man between. - - The angels looked with a troubled gaze - On the face consumed with grief, - And over the pillow bent and swayed, - As in haste to bring relief. - - And one on the bowed and burdened head - Did a hand in blessing lay, - And he said, "Poor soul, come home with us. - Where the tears are wiped away." - - "Not so," cried one of the demon troop, - "He is black with every sin; - And you may not touch our lawful prey - That we laboured years to win. - - "We bought his soul, and the price we paid, - And our part has well been done; - We helped him ever from crime to crime, - Till his buried wealth was won; - - "And we almost thought him one of us, - He had so well learned our ways; - So go, for we do but seek our own, - And be done with these delays." - - The angel said, "He has wept his sin, - As none ever wept before, - Has mourned till his very life gave way, - And what could a man do more? - - "And our Blessd Lord, who pities all, - And the sins of all has borne, - Will never His mercy turn away - From a heart so bruised and torn." - - "But how? and shall mercy be for him - Who has mercy never shown? - Can his sorrow bring the dead to life, - Or can tears for blood atone? - - "Is he to rest with the angels now, - Has he done with tears and pain? - To-morrow morn he will wish he lay - On the hospital bed again; - - "There is somewhat more to weep for down - In the place where he must stay!" - The demon looked at his fiendish mates; - And he laughed, and so did they. - - And they gathered close, like hungry wolves, - In their haste to rend and tear; - But they could not touch the helpless head - While that strong white hand was there. - - Then out of the shadow one came forth, - 'T was a demon great and tall; - An iron balance he held on high, - As he stood before them all. - - And fiercely he to the angels called, - "Do you dare to claim him still? - Then come, for the scales are in my hand, - We will weigh the good and ill." - - And into the nearest scale he threw, - As he spoke, a parchment roll, - With on it a note of every sin - That had stained the parting soul. - - 'T was closely written, without, within, - And the balance downward flew - And struck the ground with a blow, as though - It would break the pavement through. - - "He is ours forever," the demons said, - "If justice the world controls; - For sins so heavy do on him lie, - They would sink a hundred souls! - - "Come, hasten, angels, the time is short, - And words are of no avail; - Come, bring the note of your friend's good deeds, - To lay in the empty scale." - - The angels searched, but they searched in vain, - There was no good deed to bring; - In all that ever that hand had done, - They could find no worthy thing. - - A taunting shout from the demons broke, - And each hard malignant face - With joy and triumph was all aflame; - But the angels held their place, - - Though dimness fell like a passing cloud - On their pure and holy light; - And if ever angel eyes have tears, - There were some in theirs that night. - - But he who had been the first to speak, - With a glimmering hope possessed, - Still sought some good that would turn the scale, - Though it seemed a useless quest. - - He saw the handkerchief where it lay, - And he raised it off the bed, - All wet and clinging, and steeped in tears - That the dying eyes had shed. - - He turned around, but his face was pale, - As the last poor chance he tried; - He laid it down in the empty scale, - And he said, "Let God decide!" - - When, lo! it fell till it touched the earth, - And the demons stood dismayed; - It seemed so little and light a thing, - But it all his sins outweighed. - - But who shall ever the anger tell - Of that black and hateful band, - When most in triumph they felt secure, - The prey had escaped their hand. - - They stood one moment in speechless rage, - And then, with a fearful sound - Of shrieks and curses and rattling chains, - They vanished beneath the ground. - - Then holy peace on the chamber fell, - Till it flooded all the air; - The angels praised and they thanked the Lord, - Who so late had heard their prayer. - - And their clouded glory shone again, - With a clear celestial ray, - As the trembling soul, which that moment passed, - They bore in their arms away. - - Then through the room, as they took their flight, - Did a flood of music stream, - So loud, so sweet, and so close at hand, - That it waked him from his dream. - - He looked around; there was nothing stirred - In the empty, moonlit room, - Where a faint, sweet odour filled the air - From the orange-trees in bloom. - - And the notes divine he had thought to hear - Were only the liquid flow - Of a nightingale's song, that came up clear - From the garden just below. - - Then up from his seat the doctor rose, - And he stood beside the bed; - He knew, when he touched the quiet hand, - That the poor brigand was dead. - - The handkerchief on the pillow lay, - But its weary use was o'er, - And he raised it, heavy and wet with tears, - From the eyes that could weep no more. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER -VERY OLD STORIES *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47962 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so -the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. 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width: 100%" alt="Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by the author" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> + <div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> + <span class="italics">Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by the author</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + </div> + <div class="align-None container titlepage"> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 54%" id="figure-22"> + <img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Title page" src="images/img-title.jpg" /> + <div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> + <span class="italics">Title page</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE HIDDEN<br /> + SERVANTS</span></p> + <p class="center pnext"><em class="italics x-large">and</em> <span class="x-large">OTHER VERY OLD STORIES</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">Told Over Again By</em> <span class="medium"><br /> + FRANCESCA ALEXANDER</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF IDA,"<br /> + "ROADSIDE SONGS OF TUSCANY," Etc.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">LONDON</em> <span class="medium">* Published by DAVID NUTT<br /> + at the Sign of the Phoenix, Long Acre *</span> <em class="italics medium">1907</em></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + </div> + <div class="align-None container verso"> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1900,<br /> + By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">All Rights Reserved</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">University Press * John Wilson<br /> + and Son * Cambridge, U.S.A.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + </div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="introduction"><span class="bold large">Introduction</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>To those who are fortunate enough to know Miss Alexander's pen and pencil pictures of Italian peasant life the very name of Francesca, over which her early work was published, carries with it an aroma as of those humbler graces of her adopted people,—their sunny charity, their native sense of the beautiful, their childlike faith,—which touch the heart more intimately than all their great achievements in History and in Art. For those, however, to whom are yet unknown her faithful transcripts in picture and story from the lives of the people she loves, a word of introduction has been asked; and it was perhaps thought that the task might properly be entrusted to one who had heard</span> <em class="italics">The Hidden Servants</em> <span>and many another of these poems from the lips of Francesca herself.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>Yet, rightly considered, could any experience have better served to banish from the mind such irrelevant intruders as facts,—those literal facts and data at least which the uninitiated might be so mistaken as to desire, but which none who knew Francesca's work could regard as of the slightest consequence?</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>Imagine a quiet, green-latticed room in Venice overlooking the Grand Canal whose waters keep time in gently audible lappings to the lilt of the verse,—that lilt that is apparent even in the printed line, but which only a voice trained to Italian cadences can perfectly give. Imagine that voice half chanting, half reciting, these old, old legends, and with an absolute sincerity of conviction which stirs the mind of the listeners, mere children of to-day though they be, to a faith akin to that which conceived the tales. Where is there place for facts in such a scene, in such an experience? Or, if facts must be, are not all that are requisite easily to be gleaned from the poems themselves? Why state that Francesca is the daughter of an American artist, or that she has spent her life in Italy, when the artist inheritance, the Italian atmosphere, breathes in every poem our little book contains? Why make mention even of Ruskin's enthusiastic heralding of her work, when the very spirit of it is so essentially that which the great idealist was seeking all his life that he could scarcely have failed to discover and applaud it had it been ever so retiring, ever so hidden? Nor does it matter that the Alexander home chances to be in Florence rather than in Venice, since it is Italy itself that lives in Francesca's work; nor that she is Protestant rather than Catholic, when it is religion pure and simple, unrestricted by any creed, that makes vital each line she writes or draws.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>Yet of the poems, if not of the writer, there remained still something to learn, and accordingly a letter of inquiry was sent her; and her own reply, written with no thought of publication, is a better report than another could give. This is what she says:—</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>"With regard to this present collection of ballads, I can tell its history in a few words. When I was a young girl many old and curious books fell into my hands and became my favourite reading (next to the Bible, and, perhaps, the</span> <em class="italics">Divina Commedia</em><span>), as I found in them the strong faith and simple modes of thought which were what I liked and wanted. Afterwards, in my constant intercourse with the country people, and especially with old people whom I always loved, I heard a great many legends and traditions, often beautiful, often instructive, and which, as far as I knew, had never been written down. I was always in request with children for the stories which I knew and could tell, and, as I found they liked these legends, I thought it a pity they should be lost after I should have passed away, and so I always meant to write them down; all the more that I had felt the need of such reading when I was a child myself. But I never had time to write them as long as my eyes permitted me to work at my drawing, and afterwards, when I wanted to begin them, I found myself unable to write at all for more than a few minutes at once. Finally I thought of turning the stories into rhyme and learning them all by heart, so that I could write them down little by little. I thought children would not be very particular, if I could just make the dear old stories vivid and comprehensible, which I tried to do. If, as you kindly hope, they may be good for older people as well, then it must be that when the Lord took from me one faculty He gave me another; which is in no way impossible. And I think of the beautiful Italian proverb: 'When God shuts a door He opens a window.'"</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>After such an account of the origin and growth of these poems no further comment would seem fitting, unless it be that made by Cardinal Manning when writing to Mr. Ruskin in 1883 to thank him for a copy of Francesca's</span> <em class="italics">Story of Ida</em><span>. He writes:—</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>"It is simply beautiful, like the</span> <em class="italics">Fioretti di San Francesco</em><span>. Such flowers can grow in one soil alone. They can be found only in the Garden of Faith, over which the world of light hangs visibly, and is more intensely seen by the poor and the pure in heart than by the rich, or the learned, or the men of culture."</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>ANNA FULLER.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="preface"><span class="bold large">Preface</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold">THE OLD STORY-TELLER</span></p> + <div class="align-None container"> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In my upper chamber here,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Still I wait from year to year;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Wondering when the time will come</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">That the Lord will call me home.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">All the rest have been removed,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Those I worked for, those I loved;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And, at times, there seems to be</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Little use on earth for me.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Still God keeps me—He knows why—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">When so many younger die!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From my window I look down</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">On the busy, bustling town.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">But beyond its noise and jar</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">I can see the hills afar;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And above it, the blue sky,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And the white clouds sailing by;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And the sunbeams, as they shine</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">On a world that is not mine.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Here I wait, while life shall last,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">An old relic of the past,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Feeling strange, and far away</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From the people of to-day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Thankful for the memory dear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Of a morning, always near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Though long vanished, and so fair!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Dewy flowers and April air;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Thankful that the storms of noon</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Spent their force and died so soon;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Thankful, as their echoes cease,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">For this twilight hour of peace.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">But my life, to evening grown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Still has pleasures of its own.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Up my stairway, long and steep,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Now and then the children creep;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Gather round me, where I sit</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">All day long, and dream, and knit;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Fill my room with happy noise—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">May God bless them, girls and boys!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Then sweet eyes upon me shine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Dimpled hands are laid in mine;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And I never ask them why</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">They have sought to climb so high;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">For 'twere useless to enquire!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">'Tis a story they desire,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Taken from my ancient store,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">None the worse if heard before;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And they turn, with pleading looks,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">To my shelf of time-worn books,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Bound in parchment brown with age.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Little in them to engage</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Children's fancy, one would say!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Yet, when tired with noisy play,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Nothing pleases them so well</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">As the stories I can tell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From those pages, old and gray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">With their edges worn away;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Spelling queer, and Woodcut quaint.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Angel, demon, prince, and saint,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Much alike in face and air;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Houses tipping here and there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Lion, palm-tree, hermit's cell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And much more I need not tell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Then they all attentive wait,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">While the story I relate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And, before the half is told,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">I forget that I am old!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">But one age there seems to be</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">For the little ones and me.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">What though all be new and strange,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Little children never change;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">All is shifting day by day,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Worse or better, who can say?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Much we lose, and much we learn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">But the children still return,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">As the flowers do, every year;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Just as innocent and dear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">As those babes who first did meet</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">At our Heavenly Master's feet.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In His arms He took them all:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Oh, 'tis precious to recall—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Blessèd to believe it true—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">That what we love He loved too!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Since the time when life was new,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">All my long, long journey through,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">I have story-teller been.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">When a child I did begin</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">To my playmates; later on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Other children, long since gone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Came to listen; and of some,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Still the children's children come!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Some, the dearest, took their flight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In the early morning light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">To the glory far away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Made for them and such as they.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">I have lingered till the last;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">All the busy hours are past;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Now my sun is in the west,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Slowly sinking down to rest</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Ere it wholly fades from view,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">One thing only I would do:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From my stories I would choose</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Those 't would grieve me most to lose.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And would tell them once again</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">For the children who remain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And for others, yet to be,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Whom on earth I may not see.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Here, within this volume small,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">I have thought to write them all;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And to-day the work commence,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Trusting, ere God call me hence,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">I may see the whole complete.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">It will be a labour sweet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Calling back, in sunset glow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Happy hours of long ago.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold">CONTENTS</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#introduction">Introduction</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#preface">Preface</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hidden-servants">The Hidden Servants</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-bag-of-sand">The Bag of Sand</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#il-crocifisso-della-providenza">Il Crocifisso della Providenza</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#angels-in-the-churchyard">Angels in the Churchyard</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-origin-of-the-indian-corn">The Origin of the Indian Corn</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-eldest-daughter-of-the-king">The Eldest Daughter of the King</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#bishop-troilus">Bishop Troilus</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-crosses-on-the-wall">The Crosses on the Wall</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#suora-marianna">Suora Marianna</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lupins">The Lupins</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-silver-cross">The Silver Cross</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-tears-of-repentance">The Tears of Repentance</a></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-hidden-servants"><span class="bold x-large">The Hidden Servants<br /></span> <em class="bold italics x-large">AND OTHER POEMS</em></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">THE HIDDEN SERVANTS</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A sheltered nook on a mountain side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Shut in, and guarded, and fortified</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By rocks that hardly a goat would climb,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All smoothed by tempest and bleached by time—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Such was the spot that the hermit chose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From youth to age, for his life's repose.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There had he lived for forty years,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Trying, with penance and prayers and tears,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To make his soul like a polished stone</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In God's great temple; for this alone</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was the one dear wish that his soul possessed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And 't was little he cared for all the rest,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nothing had changed since first he came;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sky and the mountain were all the same,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Only a beech-tree, that there had grown</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ere ever he builded his cell of stone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had risen and spread to a stately grace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And its shifting shadow filled half the place.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many a winter its storms had spent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many a summer its sunshine lent</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the little cell, till it came to look</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like another rock in the peaceful nook.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Mosses and lichen had veiled the wall,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till it hardly seemed like a dwelling at all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a peaceful home when the days were soft,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And spring in her sweetness crept aloft</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the plains below where her work was done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the hills grew green in the warming sun.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in summer the cell of the hermit seemed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like part of that heaven of which he dreamed:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the turf behind those walls of flint</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was sprinkled with flowers of rainbow tint;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And never a sound but the bees' low hum,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As over the blossoms they go and come;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or—when one listened—the fainter tones</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of a spring that bubbled between the stones.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But dreary it was on a winter's night,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the snow fell heavy and soft and white.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And at times, when the morn was cold and keen,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The footprints of wolves at his door were seen.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But cold or hunger he hardly felt,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So near to heaven the good man dwelt;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And as for danger—why, death, to him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Meant only joining the Seraphim!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Poorly he lived, and hardly fared;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when the acorns and roots he shared</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With mole or squirrel, he asked no more,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But thanked the Lord for such welcome store.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The richest feast he could ever know</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was when the shepherds who dwelt below,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose sheep in the mountain pastures fed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would bring him cheeses, or barley bread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or—after harvest—a bag of meal;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then they would all before him kneel,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On flowery turf or on moss-grown rocks,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To ask a blessing for them and their flocks,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And once or twice he had wandered out</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To preach in the country round about,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where unto many his words were blest;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then back he climbed to his quiet nest.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By all in trouble his aid was sought;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And women their pining children brought,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For a touch of his hand to ease their pain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his prayers to make them strong again.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And now one wish in his heart remained:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He longed to know what his soul had gained,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And how he had grown in the Master's grace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Since first he came to that lonely place.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>This wish was haunting him night and day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He never could drive the thought away.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Until at length in the beech-tree's shade</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He knelt, and with all his soul he prayed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That God would grant him to know and see</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A man, if such in the world might be,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the self-same measure as his own;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose treasure on the celestial shore</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could neither be less than his nor more.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He prayed with faith, and his prayer was heard;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He hardly came to the closing word</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Before he felt there was some one there!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He looked, and saw in the sun-lit air</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An angel, floating on wings of white;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor did he wonder at such a sight:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For angels often had come to cheer</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His soul, and he thought them always near.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Happy and humble, he bowed his head,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And listened, while thus the angel said:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Go to the nearest town, and there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To-morrow, will be in the market square</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A mountebank, playing his tricks for show:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He is the man thou hast prayed to know;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His soul, as seen by the light divine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is neither better nor worse than thine.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His treasure on the celestial shore</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is neither less than thine own nor more."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Next day, in the dim and early morn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a slippery path that the sheep had worn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit went from his loved abode</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the farms below, and the beaten road.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The reapers, out in the field that day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who saw him passing, did often say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What a mournful look the old man had!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his very voice was changed and sad.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Troubled he was, and much perplexed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With endless doubting his mind was vexed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What—He? A mountebank? Both the same?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What could it mean to his soul but shame?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had his forty years been vainly spent?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then, alas! as he onward went,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There came an evil and bitter thought,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had he been serving the Lord for nought?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But in his fear he began to pray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the black temptation passed away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Perhaps the mountebank yet might prove</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To have a soul in the Master's love.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He almost felt that it must be so,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In spite of a life that seemed so low.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Perhaps he was forced such life to take,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It might be, even for conscience' sake;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some cruel master the order gave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Perhaps, for scorn of a pious slave.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or, stay—there were saints in ancient days,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who had such terror of human praise</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That, but to gain the contempt they prized,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They did such things as are most despised;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Feigned even madness; and more than one,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Accused of sins he had never done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had willingly borne disgrace and blame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor said a word for his own good name!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In thoughts like these had the day gone by;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sun was now in the western sky:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The road, grown level and hot and wide,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With dusty hedges on either side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had led him close to the city gate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where he must enter to learn his fate.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now fear did over his hope prevail:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He almost wished in his search to fail,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And find no mountebank there at all!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For then his vision he well might call</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A dream that came of its own accord,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Instead of a message from the Lord!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A few more minutes, and then he knew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That all which the angel said was true!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A mountebank, in the market square,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was making the people laugh and stare.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With antics more befitting an ape</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than any creature in human shape!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit took his place with the rest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not heeding the crowd that round him pressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And earnestly set his eyes to scan</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The face of the poor, unsaintly man.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Alas, there was little written there</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of inward peace or of answered prayer!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For all the paint, and the droll grimace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a haggard, anxious, weary face.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The mountebank saw, with vague surprise,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The patient, sorrowful, searching eyes,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose look, so solemn, and kindly too,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Seemed piercing all his disguises through.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They made him restless, he knew not why:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could not play; it was vain to try!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His face grew sober, his movements slow;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, soon as might be, he closed the show.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He saw that the hermit lingered on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When all the rest of the crowd were gone.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then over his gaudy clothes he drew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A ragged mantle of faded hue;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he himself was the first to speak:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Good Father, is it for me you seek?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"My son, I have sought you all the day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would you come with me a little way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Into some quiet corner near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where no one our words can overhear?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not far away, in a lonely street,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a garden wall they found a seat.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It now was late, and the sun had set,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though a golden glory lingered yet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the moon looked pale in it overhead.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They sat them down, and the hermit said:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"My son, to me was a vision sent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And as yet I know not what it meant;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But I think that you, and you alone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are able to make its meaning known.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Answer me then—I have great need—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And tell me, what is the life you lead?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"My life's a poor one, you may suppose!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I 've many troubles that no one knows;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For I have to keep a smiling face.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I wander, friendless, from place to place,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Risking my neck for a scanty gain;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But I must do it, and not complain.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I know, whatever may go amiss,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That I have deserved much worse than this."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the hermit this a meaning bore</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of deep humility, nothing more.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So, gaining courage, "But this," he said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Is not the life you have always led.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So much the vision to me revealed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I know there 's something you keep concealed."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The mountebank answered sadly: "Yes!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is true: you ask, and I must confess.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But keep my secret, good Father, pray;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or my life will not be safe for a day!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Alas, I have led a life of crime!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I 've been an evil man in my time.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I was a robber—I think you know—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till little more than a year ago;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One of a desperate, murderous band,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A curse and terror to all the land!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit's head sank down on his breast;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His trembling hands to his eyes he pressed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Has God rejected me?" then he moaned:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Are all my service and love disowned?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The other, seeing the old man grieved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said: "Father, why do you care so much</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For one not worthy your robe to touch?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The Lord is gracious, and if He will,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He can forgive and save me still.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And as for my wicked life, 't is I,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit made him a sign to cease;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then raised his head, and began to speak,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"If you could remember even one</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Good deed that you in your life have done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I need not go in despair away.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Think well; and if you can find one, say!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Once," said the mountebank, "that was all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I did for the Lord a service small,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And never yet have I told the tale!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But if you wish it, I will not fail.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A few of our men had gone one day—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was less for plunder, I think, than play—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To a certain convent, small and poor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where a dozen sisters lived secure</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For very poverty! dreaming not</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That any envied their humble lot.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There, finding the door was locked and barred,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They climbed the wall of a grass-grown yard.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some vines were planted along its side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their trailing branches left room to hide;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where, neither by pity moved nor shame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They crouched, till one of the sisters came</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To gather herbs for the noonday meal;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then out from under the leaves they steal!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So she was taken, poor soul, and bound,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And carried off to our camping ground.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A harmless creature, who knew no more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the world outside her convent door,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than you or I of the moon up there!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A shame, to take her in such a snare!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But, Father, I wished that I had been</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ten miles away, when they brought her in,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To hold for ransom; or if that failed—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, well, we knew when the pirates sailed!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We knew their captain, who paid us well,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And carried our prisoners off to sell.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They never beheld their country more,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Being bought for slaves on a foreign shore.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But oh! 't was enough the tears to bring,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To see that innocent, frightened thing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Looking, half hopeful, from face to face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As if she thought, in that wicked place,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There might be one who would take her part!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She looked at me, and it stung my heart.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But I, with a hard, disdainful air,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Turned from her as one who did not care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I heard her sighing: she did not know</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That her gentle look had hurt me so!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"That night they set me the watch to keep;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when the others were all asleep,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I had been moving to and fro,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With branches keeping the fire aglow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I crept along to the woman's side,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She sat apart, and her arms were tied,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And said,—'t was only a whispered word;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We both were lost if the others heard,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'If you will trust me and with me come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I 'll bring you safe to your convent home.'</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She started, into my face she gazed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said she, 'I'll trust you—the Lord be praised!'</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I very quickly the cords unbound.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She rose; I led her without a sound</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Between the rows of the sleeping men,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till we left the camp behind; and then</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I found my horse, that was tied near by.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The woman mounted, and she and I</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Set off in haste, through the midnight shade,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the wildest journey I ever made!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By wood and thicket the horse I led,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And over a torrent's stony bed,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For along the road I dared not go,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For fear that the others our flight should know,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And follow after; the woman prayed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I, quick and cautious, but not afraid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Went first, with the stars for guide, until</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We saw the convent, high on a hill.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We reached the door as the east grew red.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'God will remember!' was all she said;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her face was full of a sweet content.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She knocked, they opened, and in she went.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The door was closed—she was safe at last!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I heard the bolt as they made it fast—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I in the twilight stood alone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the lightest heart I had ever known!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"So, Father, my robber days were o'er;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I could not be what I was before.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I wandered on with a thankful mind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For I left the old bad life behind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And tried, as I journeyed day by day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To gain my bread in an honest way.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But little work could I find to do;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And so, as some juggling tricks I knew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I took this business which now you see:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is good enough for a man like me!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>While yet the story was going on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The cloud from the hermit's face had gone;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And if his eyes in the moonlight shone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They glistened with thankful tears alone.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He listened in solemn awe until</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The mountebank's tale was done; and still,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some moments, he neither spoke nor stirred,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But silently pondered every word.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then humbly speaking, "The Lord," said he,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Has had great mercy on you and me!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And now, my son, I must tell you why</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I came to speak with you—know that I</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Have tried with the Lord alone to dwell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For forty years, in my mountain cell;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In prayer and solitude, day and night,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Have striven to keep my candle bright!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there, but yesterday, while I prayed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An angel came to my side, and said</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That I should seek you,—and told me where,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And should your life with my own compare;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For in God's service and love and grace</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Your soul with mine has an equal place,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We both alike have his mercy shared,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The same reward is for both prepared.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I came; I sought you—and you know how</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I found you out in the square just now!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At which—may the Lord forgive my pride!—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At first I was poorly satisfied.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But now I have heard your story through—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What you in a single night could do!—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And know that this to the Lord appears</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Worth all my service of forty years;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I can but wonder, and thank His grace</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which raised us both to an equal place,"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But, Father, it never can be true!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What?—I by the side of a saint like you?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ah no! You never to me were sent.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was some one else whom the angel meant!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"No! Listen to me—'T was</span> <em class="italics">you</em><span>, my son!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Our Master said that a service done</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To a child of His in time of need</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is done to Himself in very deed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And is with love by Himself received!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So do not think I have been deceived,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But keep those words on your heart engraved</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the humble woman whose life you saved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <em class="italics">God will remember</em><span>, and trust His care.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He will not forget you here nor there!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"O Father, Father! And can it be</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the Lord in heaven remembers me?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And yet I had felt it must be true,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the woman spoke as if she knew!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But when was ever such mercy shown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And is this the love He bears His own?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are these the blessings He holds in store?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, let me serve Him for evermore!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when, at the close of another day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit wearily made his way</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Up the mountain path, from stone to stone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He did not climb to his cell alone.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The mountebank, still with wondering face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came with him up to that peaceful place!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Together with thankful hearts they went,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thenceforth together their lives were spent.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, ere the summer had reached its close,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Another cell from the rocks arose;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The beech, in its strong and stately growth,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Spread one green canopy over both.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On summer evenings, when shepherds guide</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their flocks to rest on the mountain side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They heard above, in the twilight calm,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two voices, chanting the evening psalm;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And one was agèd, and one was young,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But never was hymn more sweetly sung!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In love and patience, by deed and word,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They helped each other to serve the Lord,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Together to pray, to learn, to teach,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till a deeper blessing fell on each.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their souls grew upward from day to day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he who farthest had gone astray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who, lowest fallen, had hardest striven,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who most had sinned and been most forgiven,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Erelong in the heavenly race outran</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The older, milder, and wiser man.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two years he dwelt with his agèd friend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then made a blessèd and peaceful end;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, when his penitent life was done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit wept as he would for a son!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ten years had over the mountain passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Since that poor mountebank breathed his last,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Helped, to the end, by a woman's prayer,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ten years; and the hermit still was there.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Grown older, thinner, with shoulders bent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He seldom forth from his shelter went.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But those he had helped in former days</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With prayers and counsel, in thousand ways,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were mindful of him, and brought him all</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He needed now, for his wants were small.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And happy they were their best to give,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If only their mountain saint would live!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For in his living their lives were blest;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And if he longed for the perfect rest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Patient he was, and content to wait,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While God should please, at the heavenly gate.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Beautiful now his face had grown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the beauty was something not his own,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A solemn light from the blessèd land</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Within whose border he soon must stand.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Little he said, but his every word</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was saved and treasured by those who heard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To be a blessing in years to come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When he should be theirs no more; and some</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who brought their little to help his need,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Went home with their souls enriched indeed!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>One autumn morning he sat alone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Outside his cell; and the warm sun shone</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a friendly light on his silver hair,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the branches, smooth and almost bare,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the beech-tree, now, like him, grown old.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The night before had been sharp and cold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the frost was white on leaf and stem</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wherever the rocks still shaded them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But where the sunbeams had found their way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In glittering, crystal drops it lay;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And fallen leaves at his feet were strewn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yellow and wet, over turf and stone.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He sat and dreamed, as the agèd do,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While, drifting backward, he lived anew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The years that never again should be.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A placid dream—for his soul was free</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From all the troubles of long ago,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The doubts, the conflict he used to know!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Doubts of himself, and a contest grim</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With evil spirits that strove for him.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now all was over; that troubled day</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was like a storm that had passed away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It seemed to him that his voyage was o'er;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His ship already had touched the shore.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet once he sighed; for he knew that he</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was not the man he had hoped to be,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, looking back on his journey past,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He felt—what all of us feel at last!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his soul was moved to pray once more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The prayer he had made twelve years before,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Only to know, before he died,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If he were worthy to stand beside</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One of God's children, or great or small,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who served Him truly; and that was all!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was not long ere the angel came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who, gently calling the saint by name,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said: "Come, for thou hast not far to go.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One step, and I to thine eyes will show</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The very dwelling that shelters now</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two souls as near to the Lord as thou!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit rose; and with reverent tread</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He followed on as the angel led.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where a single cleft the rocks between</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gave passage out of the valley green</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They passed, and stood in the pathway steep:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The rocks about them were sunken deep</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In fern, and bramble, and purple heath,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That sloped away to the woods beneath;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While far below, and on every side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were endless mountains, and forests wide,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And scattered villages here and there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That all looked near in the clear, dry air.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And here a church, with its belfry tall;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there a convent, whose massive wall</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Rose grave and stately above the trees.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit willingly looked at these;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For hope they gave him that now, at least,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some praying brother or toiling priest</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Might be his mate; but it was not so!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angel showed him, away below,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A slope where a little mountain-farm</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Lay, all spread out in the sunshine warm,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Along the side of a wooded hill.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It looked so peaceful and far and still!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when his eye on the farmhouse fell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angel said: "It is there they dwell!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two women in heart and soul like thee.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Go, find them, Brother, and thou shalt see</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All that thou art in their lives displayed."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Before the hermit an answer made,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angel back to the skies had flown;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He stood in the rocky path alone.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Along the broken and winding way</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Between the heath and the boulders gray;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through lonely pastures that led him down</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To oaken woods in their autumn brown;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And o'er the stones of a rippling stream,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit passed, like one in a dream!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As though the vision, had made him strong:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He hardly knew that the way was long.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was almost noon when he came in sight</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the little farmhouse, low and white:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A sheltered lane by the orchard led,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where mountain ash, with its berries red,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Rose high above him; and brambles, grown</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All over the rough, low wall of stone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And tangled brier with thorny spray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And feathered clematis, edged the way.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then, turning shortly, a view he caught</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of both the women for whom he sought.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>One, spinning, sat by the open door;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her spindle danced on the worn stone floor.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The other, just from the forest come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had brought a bundle of branches home,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And spread them now in the sun to dry;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But both looked up as the saint drew nigh.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then, on a sudden, the spindle stopped,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The branches all on the grass were dropped.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He heard them joyfully both exclaim,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"The Saint! The hermit!" And forth they came</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To bid him welcome, and made request</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That he would enter their house to rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But when a blessing they both implored,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had not courage to speak the word.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The only blessing his lips let fall</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was this: "May the good Lord bless us all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And keep our hearts in His peace divine!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With hand uplifted, he made the sign,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then entered in (to their joy complete!)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And willingly took the offered seat.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And soon before him a meal was spread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of chestnuts, of goat's milk cheese, and bread;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While one with her pitcher went to bring</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some water fresh from the ice-cold spring.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could not taste of the food prepared</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till he his errand to both declared.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said he: "My friends, I have come to-day</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With something grave on my mind to say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And more to hear; and I pray you now</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To answer truly, and not allow</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A feeling, whether of pride or shame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or any shrinking from praise or blame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To change the answer you both may give,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of what you are and of how you live."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then she with distaff still at her side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of speech more ready, at once replied.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In years the elder, but not in face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She kept a little of youthful grace:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The dark eyes under her snow-white hair</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were keen and clear as the autumn air!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"We are but what we appear to be:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two toiling women, as you may see!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And neither so young nor strong as when</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In field and forest we helped the men.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We now have only the lesser care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To keep the house, and the meals prepare,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And other labours of small account,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet something worth in the week's amount.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But in our youth, and a lifetime through,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We laboured, much as the others do!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through storm and sunshine we still have tried</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To do our best by our husbands' side.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And keep their hearts and our own at rest</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When sickness came or when want oppressed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For even famine our house assailed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That year when the corn and chestnuts failed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And once—that winter ten years ago—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Our house was buried beneath the snow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And ere it melted and light returned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The very benches for warmth we burned!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor is there want, in our busy hive,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of children keeping the house alive:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For she has seven, and I have nine;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But three of hers and the first of mine</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are safe with Jesus,—more happy they!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two more have married and gone away.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>My son's young wife, with her infant small,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Make up the household—fourteen in all."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"In this," he said, "there is much to praise:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In humble service you pass your days,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And spend your life for your children's needs.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But tell me now of the pious deeds</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(For such there are) that you seek to hide,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To me in a vision signified!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But, sir, we are just two poor old wives.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who never have done in all our lives</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A pious deed that was worth the name!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She said; and her white head drooped with shame.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then said the other: "And yet, 't is true,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We help in all that our husbands do.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When twice a year they have killed a sheep,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is only half for ourselves we keep;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Our poorer neighbours have all the rest.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And this, I fear, is the very best</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We ever do!" "And," said he, "'t is well!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But think—is there nothing more to tell?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They both were silent a little space,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And each one questioned the other's face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till, doubtful, when she had thought awhile,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The elder said, with a modest smile:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"This summer have forty years gone by,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Since she—my sister-in-law—and I</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Together came in this house to dwell;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, Father, it is not much to tell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But in all these years, from first to last,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No angry word has between us passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor even a look that was less than kind.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And that is all I can call to mind."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Enough it was for the hermit's need!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He rose, like one from a burden freed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Thank God!" he said; "if indeed He sees</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>My soul as worthy and white as these!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And great the mercy He doth bestow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That I should His hidden servants know!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A sudden flash, as of heavenly light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then shone within him, and all was bright;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in a moment were things made clear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had vexed him many a weary year!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he, who had thought on earth to view</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>God's people only a scattered few,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Saw now, in spirit, an army great</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of hidden servants who on Him wait.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No saintly legends their names disclose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And no man living their number knows,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor can their service and place declare.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hidden servants are everywhere!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some are hated, despised, alone;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some to even themselves unknown.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the Father's house has room for all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And never one from His hand can fall!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The one brave deed of a desperate man,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Grown hard in crime since his youth began,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who yet, for a helpless woman's sake,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had strength to rise, and his chain to break;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The holy sweetness that fills the heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of him who dwells from the world apart,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His life one dream of celestial things,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till almost heaven to earth he brings;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or yet the humble, unnoticed life</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of toiling mother and patient wife,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who, year on year, has had grace to bear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her changeless burden of daily care,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are all accepted with equal love,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And laid with treasures that wait above</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Until the day when we all believe</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That every man shall his deeds receive.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when, that evening, with weary feet</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hermit stood by his lone retreat,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And watched awhile, with a tranquil gaze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The mountains soft in the sunset haze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And sleeping forest, and field below,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He said, as he saw the star-like glow</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of lights in the cottage windows far,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"How many God's hidden servants are!"</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-bag-of-sand"><span class="bold large">The Bag of Sand</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>THE BAG OF SAND was written by St. Heradius, who visited, some time in the fifth century, the hermit fathers of the desert and mountains, and collected many interesting stories about them.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Bag of Sand</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <div class="align-None container"> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In that land of desolation</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Where, mid dangers manifold,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Lost in heavenly contemplation,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Desert fathers dwelt of old,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Lay a field where grass was growing</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Green beneath the palm-trees' shade;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And a spring, forever flowing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Life amid the stillness made.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">There a brotherhood, incited</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">By one hope and purpose high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Came to dwell in faith united,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Pray and labour, live and die.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Mighty was the love that bound them.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Each to each, in that wild land,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Where the desert closed around them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">One dead waste of rocks and sand,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Saving where, to rest their eyes on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">While they dreamed of hills divine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Blue, above the low horizon,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Stretched the mountains' wavy line.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">There could nought of earth remind them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Nor disturb their dreams and prayers;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">They had left the world behind them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Felt no more its joys and cares.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Far from all its weary bustle,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Will subdued, and mind at ease.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">They could hear the palm-trees rustle</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In the early morning breeze.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">When the bell, to prayer inviting.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From the low-built belfry rang,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">They could hear the birds uniting</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">With them while the psalms they sang.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From the earth their labour brought them</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">All they needed—scanty fare.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Life of toil and hardship taught them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Though at peace, the cross to bear.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">This is all their record: never</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Can we hope the rest to know!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Names and deeds are lost forever,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In the mist of long ago;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And of all that life angelic</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Neither shadow left, nor trace.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Save this tale,—a precious relic,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">In its wise and saintly grace!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">This, above the darkness lifted</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">By the truth that in it lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">On the sea of time has drifted,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">And is still our own to-day.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Listen to it, it may teach us</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Wisdom, with its words of gold!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">Let this far-off blessing reach us</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span class="italics">From the desert saints of old.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Underneath the vines they tended</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the garden air was sweet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the shadows, softly blended,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Made an ever cool retreat,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>These good brethren had assembled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On their abbot to attend;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All were sad, and many trembled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thinking how the day would end.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of their little congregation</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One who long had faithful been,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had, beneath a sore temptation,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Fallen into grievous sin.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>What it was they have not told us,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But we know, whatever the blame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If God's hand should cease to hold us,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>You or I might do the same.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And for judgment's wise completing</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(Now the crime was certified),</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All were called in solemn meeting</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the sentence to decide.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Much in doubt, they craved assistance,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Sent to convents far away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Even to that fair blue distance</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where their eyes had loved to stray.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Fathers learnèd, fathers saintly,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Abbots used to think and rule,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gathered where the brook sang faintly</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the shadow, green and cool.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh the beauty that was wasted</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On that day, remembered oft!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh the sweetness, all untasted,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the morning, still and soft!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>At their feet the water glistened,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Birds were nesting overhead;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No one saw, and no one listened</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Save to what the speakers said.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Long and sad was their debating,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Voices low and faces grave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While, the gloomy tale relating,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Each in turn his judgment gave.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Send him from you!" one was saying</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Calmly, as of reason sure;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"All are tainted by his staying,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Let men know your hands are pure!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For the shame and sorrow brought you,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Let him be to all as dead!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Harm sufficient has he wrought you!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the abbot shook his head.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the sin which had undone him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For much evil brought about,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He would lay a burden on him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he could not cast him out!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>All night long the distant howling,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he waked, of beasts of prey,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Made him think of demons prowling,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Come to snatch that soul away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said another: "I would rather</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That his shame by all were seen.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Do not spare him, O my Father;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Let the blow be swift and keen!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Let not justice be evaded!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Keep him, bound to labour hard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With you, but apart degraded,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And from speech with all debarred!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>This the abbot not refusing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Only wondered, while he thought,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was there no one feared the losing</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of a soul the Lord had bought?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>One, more thoughtless, recommended</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That in prison closely pent</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He should stay till life was ended!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But to this would none consent.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the cell where first they closed him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Shrinking back, as best he might,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From a window that exposed him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Sometimes to a passer's sight,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He, the black offender, waited,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From them parted since his fall:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Once beloved, now scorned and hated</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By himself, he thought by all!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nothing asking, nothing pleading,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Speechless, tearless, in despair;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But, like one in pain exceeding,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Moving ever here and there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Little did his fate alarm him:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What had he to fear or shun?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What could others do to harm him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>More than he himself had done?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But without were minds divided,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the morning wore away;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Noon had come, and undecided</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still the heavy question lay.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though they looked so stern and fearless,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some with sinking hearts had come,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Hearts that wept when eyes were tearless,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Pleaded when the lips were dumb.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>One who had that morning seen him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Seeking from their gaze to hide,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Tried from heavy doom to screen him;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his reasons were denied.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He of other days was thinking,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Happy days, and still so near!—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When that brother, shamed and shrinking,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had to all their souls been dear.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Others tried their hearts to harden,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Felt their pity to be sin;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Silent, prayed the Lord to pardon</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Kinder thoughts that rose within.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some proposed and some objected,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While, the long debate to end,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One old Father they expected,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And on him would all depend.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He—their honoured, best adviser—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Dwelt in desert cave retired;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Older than the rest, and wiser:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many thought his words inspired;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said he knew what passed within them</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When by sin or doubt assailed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>True it is, his words could win them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Often, when all else had failed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He would find what all were seeking,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Justice pure, and judgment right!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still the abbot, seldom speaking,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Pale and sober, prayed for light.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Light was sent! For, toiling slowly</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O'er the sun-baked desert road,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came that Father, wise and holy,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Bent beneath a weary load!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Scarce his failing limbs sustained him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the burden sorely pressed:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many times, as though it pained him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would he stand to breathe and rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>One who watched for his arriving,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Went and told them he was near.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Up they rose, and ceased their striving,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In their joy such news to hear!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then they all went forth and met him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By their reverent love compelled:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nevermore could one forget him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who that day his face beheld!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wasted, worn, yet strong to aid them;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Peaceful, though by conflict tried;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Shining with a light that made them</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Feel the Lord was by his side!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But it grieved their souls to see him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By that burden bowed and strained!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many stretched their hands to free him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wondering what the sack contained.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Why this burden?" one addressed him;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"All unfit for arms like thine!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He, while yet the weight oppressed him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Answered: "These are sins of mine.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I must bear them all, my brother,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ever with me while I go</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On my way to judge another!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>These have made my journey slow."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the abbot, growing bolder,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Raised the load with trembling hand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the Father's bended shoulder;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Looked—and found it filled with sand.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of them all, there was not any</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But was silent for a while;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the best had sins as many</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the sand-grains in that pile!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then they heard the abbot saying,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"God alone must judge us all!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a burden, heavy weighing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Seemed from every heart to fall.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Awed and hushed, but no more keeping</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Pity crushed, or love restrained,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some were smiling, some were weeping;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of their striving what remained?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many bowed in veneration;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Others all in haste to go</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a word of consolation</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To their brother fallen low.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Hope they brought, and gentler feeling,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To his torn, despairing breast,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And that evening found him kneeling</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the chapel with the rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>None arose to judge or sentence:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He whose sin they most deplored,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his long and sad repentance,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was with charity restored.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="il-crocifisso-della-providenza"><span class="bold large">Il Crocifisso della Providenza</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>The crucifix about which this story is told is still to be seen in the church of the Carmine, where it is kept in the Corsini chapel; and it is always shown to the public on the first of May, when also (as the ballad relates) a</span> <em class="italics">festa</em> <span>is held in the house once occupied by the three sisters, in the Via dell' Orto.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>The house seems to have been little changed since they lived there; it now bears the number 10, and is easily recognized by a niche in the wall, containing a representation of the crucifix, and the chest piled with loaves.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>From time immemorial, a lamp burns every night before this little shrine: the oil is provided by the poor women of the vicinity (and they are very poor indeed), each one laying by a few</span> <em class="italics">centesimi</em> <span>every week for the purpose.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Il Crocifisso della Providenza</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The streets of Florence are fair to see,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With palace and church and tower,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there the mighty of earth have dwelt,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the whole world feels their power.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And many come from the East and West</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To gaze on its beauty rare;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To stand where the wise and great have stood,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For their presence is ever there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But they never think of the narrow streets</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the poor of the city dwell;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Those humble houses, so bare and plain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Have tales of their own to tell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There's one by the San Frediano gate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not far from the city wall;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some Latin words on its front engraved</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The memory still recall</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of one, a beggar, to all unknown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who knocked at the door one day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of what a blessing he left behind</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That morn when he went his way,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It happened hundreds of years ago,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But they tell the story still;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So listen now to the legend old,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And smile at it if you will.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But if you smile, be it not in scorn;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The tale which I now relate</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Has lightened many a heavy heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By the San Frediano gate.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Long since, they say, in that ancient house</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were orphan maidens three,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in the chamber above the door,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose window you still may see,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They worked and prayed, by the world unseen;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And ever, the long day through,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The needles stitched, and the spindle twirled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the knitted garment grew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So young, and one of them yet a child,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With never an earthly friend;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They prayed each day for the daily bread</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which they knew the Lord would send.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And toiling cheerfully, lived content,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor ever of want complained,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But freely shared with the needy poor</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The little their labour gained.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But evil days to the sisters came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their faith was sorely tried:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A merchant, one of the first in town,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That winter had failed and died.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And many debts had he left behind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their work was all unpaid;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he it was who had bought and sold</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The delicate wares they made.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They prayed for help, and they sought for work;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But awhile they sought in vain.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They pledged the ring that their father wore,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their mother's golden chain.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then work they found, but for neighbours poor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some of them could not pay;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was well for them that the spring began,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the cold had passed away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And one by one, as the days went on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were the household treasures sold,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The copper pitcher, the brazen lamp,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the nut-wood table old,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The pot of pinks from the window-sill—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But when they had sold them all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An ancient crucifix, carved in wood,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still hung on the whitewashed wall</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Above the chest where the loaves were kept;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Such blessing its presence shed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It seemed to them like a living friend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And not like an image dead!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In all their troubles, in all their joys,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That crucifix bore a part;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Above all comfort, or wealth, or gain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was dear to the sisters' heart!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>As babes, before they could understand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or ever a prayer repeat,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Each day their father had held them up,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While they kissed the carven feet.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So April came, and so April went;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they lived, the Lord knows how!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The elder sister had saved and spared,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the chest was empty now.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>That very evening she broke in halves,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And gave to the younger two,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One piece of bread—'t was the last they had;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was nothing more to do,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Unless, unless—and she looked at them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then at the image dear:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She touched it once; but her hand drew back</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a guilty, shrinking fear.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her sisters saw, and they started up,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they said in haste, "Not so!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Take back the bread, if there be no more;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The crucifix must not go!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she took courage, and kissed them both,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And smiled, though her eyes were wet;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then looked again at the face beloved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And said, "He will help us yet!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They rose next day with the early dawn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their hearts were almost light!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The young need little to make them glad,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the day was fair and bright.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And pleasant 't is to behold the sun,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though his rosy-tinted ray</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could only shine on the moss-grown tiles</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the roof across the way.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the air was sweet in the narrow street</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the swallows toss and glide;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For a perfume came on the morning breeze</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the hills on every side,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A perfume faint from the woods afar,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From blossoming fields of corn;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And bells already their chimes began,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For this was a sacred morn.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The Carmine church is near at hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the sisters thither hied;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was there they had knelt in happy days</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By the dear dead mother's side.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then home, through the gay and festive street,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till they reached the chamber bare:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The time had come for the morning meal,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And alas, no bread was there!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The elder girl on her sisters looked,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her face grew white with pain.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then said the one who was next in age,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Let us ask the Lord again!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So down they knelt on the red-tiled floor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the elder bowed her head,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And said aloud, while the others joined,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The prayer for their daily bread.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then, with a tempest in her heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That she could no more withstand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With her arm around the younger girl,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the other by the hand,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She pleaded, raising her tearful face</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the dying face above,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For those she loved in their helpless state</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With more than a sister's love.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"O blessed Jesus! O Lord divine!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Have pity, we wait for Thee!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Look down—Thou seest our empty chest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thou knowest how poor we be!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Oh, send some bread to my sisters dear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the cornfields all are Thine!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I 'd rather lie in my grave to-day</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than to see these children pine!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Thou knowest, Lord, I have done my best;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But my hands have failed at length:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A mother's burden is on me laid</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With only a maiden's strength.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Come, help me! Look at these orphan girls!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, save them from want and woe!—"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her praying ceased, for they heard a sound,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A knock at the door below.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They rose, and all to the window went:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A beggar was at the door,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A poor, pale stranger, with staff in hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who had never come before.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The Month of Mary was coming in;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And many were on their way</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To ask for alms in the Virgin's name</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On that beautiful first of May.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"My little sisters," the beggar said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(And bowed to the maidens three,)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I pray you spare from your table spread</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A morsel of bread for me!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I come from far, and I 've far to go;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I 've eaten nought to-day!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The elder wept, but she answered not;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the second turned away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The younger looked with her innocent eyes</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the beggar's pleading face:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And if we could, we would give you food;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But we 're in as hard a case!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"We finished yesterday all we had—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The half of a loaf, no more!—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We just were asking the Lord for bread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When we heard you at the door."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Go, look in the chest, my little maid;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>You 'll find there is bread to spare!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Alas, we have looked so many times,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And never a crust is there!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Look once again, for the love of Him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose image I see within:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He never has failed to help His own,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He will not now begin."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So only lest it should seem unkind</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To refuse the small request,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The elder girl with a patient smile</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Went back to the empty chest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She looked—and down on her knees she fell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a cry of glad surprise:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The others turned, and their breath stood still,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They could scarce believe their eyes!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was full! And the loaves were piled so high</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They could close the lid no more.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their tears fell faster for joy that day</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than they fell for grief before!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But in the midst of their thankful praise</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They thought of the starving man:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The little one seized the topmost loaf,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And back to the window ran.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She looked, she called him—he was not there!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They sought him, but all in vain:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He passed away from their sight that day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he came no more again.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So ends the story; but ever since</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That crucifix bears the name</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <em class="italics">La Providenza</em><span>; and even now</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The house has a sacred fame.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And many kneel where the sisters knelt</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Each year on the first of May;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the floor is all bestrewn with flowers,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And leaves of the scented bay.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The humble room is with roses decked.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And bright with the candles' glow;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And smoke of incense, and sound of psalm,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Float over the street below.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A woman agèd and silver-haired</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Once told me, with solemn thrill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How she herself had beheld the chest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which stands in the chamber still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>I asked her: "Who was that beggarman?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An angel, do you suppose?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A saint from heaven?" Her face grew grave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she answered me, "Who knows?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then, with voice to a whisper dropped,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With an awed, mysterious air,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Some think," she said, "'t was the Lord Himself</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who came at the maiden's prayer."</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="angels-in-the-churchyard"><span class="bold large">Angels in the Churchyard</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>The story of the "Angels in the Churchyard" was told me by Signore Bortolo Zanchetta of Bassano, who said that he read it in an old book, but he had lost the book, and could not even remember its name.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Angels in the Churchyard</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A saint there was, long time ago,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And all in vain I tried</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His name to learn, or whence he came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or how or where he died.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he from whom the tale I heard</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could tell me nothing more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Save only that within him dwelt</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of love an endless store.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in the churchyard once he passed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A summer night in prayer,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For pity of the nameless dead</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who lie forgotten there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He knew not when the sun went down,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So earnestly he prayed!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He knew not when the twilight glow</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was lost in deepening shade.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when the fair, round moon arose</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Behind the wooded hill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She looked across the churchyard wall,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And found him praying still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But when the night was far along,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when the moon was high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When all the village lights were out,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And closed was every eye,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>When low above the sleeping dead</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The folded daisies slept,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he alone his patient watch</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Until the morning kept,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came angels through the churchyard gate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But in no heavenly guise;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So unadorned, he little thought</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They came from Paradise!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The moon lit up their robes of white;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No other glory shone.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He watched them, as they paused before</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One sunken, moss-grown stone,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And thrice their silver censers swung,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As at some saintly shrine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But never incense burnt on earth</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had perfume so divine.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Between the graves they glided on:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Toward a cross they turned—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A wooden cross that bore no name—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there the incense burned.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A fading garland on it hung,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of wild flowers simply twined;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whoever lay in that poor grave</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had left some love behind.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But next they sought a dreary place</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Against the northern wall;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could not see if mound were there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The nettles grew so tall!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And on to others, three or four,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their noiseless steps they bent:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where'er they stayed, the incense rose;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then, as they came, they went.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But often to that churchyard green</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did he at night repair;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And ever, when the hour returned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angels all were there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He thought them only white-robed priests;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And much he wondered why</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Each night at certain graves they stayed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While others they passed by.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till, after waiting, wondering long,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One night he forward pressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And spoke with one who walked apart,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A step behind the rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was starlight now; the moon had waned:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He hardly saw the face</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of him he talked with; but he felt</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Great peace was in the place.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Of God's own saints," the angel said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"A few lie buried here;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He so loves them that to Him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their very dust is dear!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"So, while their souls with perfect peace</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are in His presence blest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He will not that these humble graves</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Should all unhonoured rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Each night from heaven He sends us down.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where'er His flowers are sown—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>These bodies that shall one day rise,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All glorious like His own!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The saint was silent, for his lips</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could find no word to say:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He stood entranced, and like to one</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose soul is far away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>At length he roused; the stars were dim,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The night had half withdrawn:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A light was in the eastern sky,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The clear pale light of dawn.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then came a freshening in the air,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A twitter in the trees,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A ripple in the dewy grass</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That felt the early breeze;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And sounded from the tower above</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sweet-toned, ancient bell;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While bright and busy over all</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The summer morning fell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The daisies opened; happy birds</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Sang in the sunshine free.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The dead alone are sleeping now;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their morning is to be.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-origin-of-the-indian-corn"><span class="bold large">The Origin of the Indian Corn</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>This story was told me by the Contessa Vittoria Percoto Antonini of Palmanuova, who said that she heard it in her youth at a</span> <em class="italics">Fila</em><span>, which is a sort of social gathering held in the winter evenings by the</span> <em class="italics">contadini</em> <span>in that part of the country.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>The winter is cold, and these</span> <em class="italics">contadini</em><span>, who are very poor and can ill afford the wood for a fire, meet in the cattle-shed, where the breath of cows and oxen warms the air a little.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>They often say, "It is the way that the Gesù Bambino was warmed!" A lantern hangs from one of the beams overhead, and by its dim light the women spin or knit. All talk together, and (as the Contessa Vittoria expresses it) "the boys make themselves agreeable to the girls, very much as though it were a party of ladies and gentlemen."</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>And from time to time the elder people entertain the company with stories, of which this is a pretty fair specimen.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Origin of the Indian Corn</span></p> + <p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Legend of Friuli</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the far Italian border land,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With its rolling hills and mountains grand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the Alps of Carnia rising near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the snow lies more than half the year;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With crags where the clinging fir-trees grow</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Above the chestnuts and vines below,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the weary, changing world remote,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There age on age doth a legend float.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The young have learnt it from agèd men;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It never was written yet with pen.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It seems at first, when they tell it o'er,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A childish fancy, and nothing more;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And bearing the impress, deep indeed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the hard and struggling lives they lead:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A thing to smile at, and then forget,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Scarce worthy a passing thought—and yet</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The simple tale may a lesson teach</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If only one can its meaning reach!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like one of their living, hill-side springs,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That shows the image of common things;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So he who looks on its surface sees</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The bending flowers, the arching trees,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sun, the shadow, the rocks, the sky,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The busy birds that go flitting by,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While deep below is the endless wealth</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of water, given for life and health.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In homely form is the lesson taught;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But worthy still of a reverent thought.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So listen, think; if you have a mind</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To seek, and the hidden treasure find:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For Truth, most precious and fair, doth dwell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the crystal depth of this mountain well.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And this is the story, often told</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the winter evenings long and cold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the low-roofed, dimly lighted shed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the breath of oxen serves instead</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of a blazing hearth to warm the place:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A smile of peace is on every face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And hearts are light, and they often say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Our Lord was warmed in the self-same way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That night when He on the earth was born!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the shed no longer seems forlorn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For it makes them feel Him near at hand:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they the better can understand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How by His pity and timely aid</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The beautiful Indian corn was made.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was in the days when He dwelt below,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Before 't was given to man to know</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or who He was or from whence He came;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the world had hardly heard His name!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He journeyed over the country roads,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He taught the poor, and He eased their loads.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had no dwelling wherein to rest</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the one or two who loved Him best,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And once in seeking a friendly door</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They came to a farmer's threshing-floor.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hot July had but just begun;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The road lay white in the blinding sun;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The air was heavy with odours sweet;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sky was pale, as if faint with heat.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two weary men and two women pale</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were threshing, each with a heavy flail,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A mile away you could hear the sound</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In measured cadence along the ground.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then, moved with pity at such a sight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It pleased Him to make their burden light.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At first He prayed them to pause and rest;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They only smiled at the strange request,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And laboured on till He spoke again:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Fear not, Myself I will thresh the grain!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>At sound of His holy voice, they knew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That what He said He would surely do!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He bade them bring Him a burning brand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, though they little could understand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The brand was brought, and they saw Him bend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And touch the corn with the lighted end.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then swiftly, as by a tempest blown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The straw to the farther side was thrown;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The wheaten kernels, all clear and bright,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Lay piled on high—'t was a pleasant sight!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Another and smaller heap contained</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The chaff, and whatever else remained.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was threshed and winnowed, and all in one;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The work of days in a moment done!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The happy threshers, with one accord,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gave thanks and praise to the blessèd Lord;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And grateful tears at His feet were shed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Meanwhile the news through the village spread;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For more than one had been near, and seen</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The miracle of the wheat made clean.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From field and garden and cottage door,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The people flocked to the threshing-floor.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then came a time of such joy supreme</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As never had been in thought or dream.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For when they looked on the clean-threshed wheat,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And heard the threshers their tale repeat,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And knew that He had this wonder done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They knelt and worshipped Him, every one!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, think how happy they were and blest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who might awhile in His presence rest!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Think what it would be for you or me</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That voice to hear and that face to see!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The children run to Him where He stands,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And cling with their little sunbrowned hands</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To His garment; and the parents feel</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their burden lightened while yet they kneel.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Thank God, who spared us!" the agèd say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"To look on Thy blessèd face to-day!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sick are healed, and the weak made strong,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And hearts consoled that had suffered long:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A sound of gladness, of praise and prayer,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Floats far away on the summer air.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Amid such transports of young and old,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How was it that one could still be cold?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A certain widow whom all confessed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To be the bravest, perhaps the best,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Among the women the place contained—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Why was it that she aloof remained?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Handsome and stately, and strong of arm</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To guard her fatherless babes from harm,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With five little hungry mouths to fill;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For them she laboured with might and will!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But, proud of spirit, she could not bear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That other hearts should her burden share.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of soul too high for an evil deed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She scorned the others, but helped their need.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In wit and wisdom the rest excelled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And yet their kindness too oft repelled;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Accepted nothing, though free to give,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And almost rather had ceased to live</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than share the loaf from a neighbour's shelf.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yes, proud of her very pride itself!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She nursed it, cherished it, thought it grand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To guide unaided her house and land,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And thanked the Lord, when she knelt to pray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That never one in the place could say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I help the widow!" And now she stood</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Apart from the kneeling multitude,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And half impatient and half amused,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She smiled at the simple words they used,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of praise and wonder, and thought how she</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could never so weak and childish be!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her 't was a proud and happy day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For rest and plenty before her lay:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Herself had sown and herself had reaped;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And now the beautiful sheaves lay heaped,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not far away, by her open door;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her heart rejoiced in the ample store!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A neighbour saw her, and called her name:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Come near! perhaps He will do the same</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For thee, and thy summer's work complete;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I know that thou hast not threshed thy wheat!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She tossed her head with a smile of pride:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I never yet, since my husband died,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Asked help or favour of any one!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Besides, I saw how the thing was done.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I can do it as well as He;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He need not turn from His way for me!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She looked on the awed, adoring crowd,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In scorn a moment; then laughed aloud,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To see the horror among them spread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At sound of the evil words she said.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Our Lord's disciples, though saints they were,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had no good wishes that day for her!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Indeed, their patience was greatly tried</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To see Him slighted and thrust aside.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One even whispered, "Hast Thou not heard?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But He said never an angry word!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One look of pity He on her cast,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then turned, and forth from the village passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Along the lane where the grass was brown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And birds were plucking the thistle-down,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till under the olives' silver screen</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He turned aside, and no more was seen.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And now the widow of heart so proud</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would show to the grave, indignant crowd</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her greater wisdom; with this intent</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She calmly in to her fireside went;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some coals she brought in an iron pan—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"If one can do it, another can!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She said; and then with a careless smile</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She touched the coals to her golden pile.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A flash, a crackle, a blinding blaze</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of flame, that struggles, and soars, and sways,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And sinks a moment, and soars again—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That was the end of the widow's grain!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A few short moments, and nought remained</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of all that her loving toil had gained</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But blackened tinder, and embers red,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the sullen smoke-cloud overhead!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her friends and neighbours, I fear, meanwhile</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were far less minded to weep than smile;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And hardly one was with pity moved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the woman was not greatly loved.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And all were angry, as well as grieved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To think of the slight our Lord received,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>After his wonderful goodness shown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when He had made their cares His own!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The boys were ready to dance and shout,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At seeing the red sparks blown about;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The maidens whispered and laughed aside;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their parents talked on the sin of pride.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To help or comfort her, no one planned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Except the poorest of all the band;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An agèd woman, who near her came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And drew her back from the scorching flame.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Poor soul!" she said, "thou hast children five!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I have none in the world alive.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Keep up thy heart! I am well content</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To share with thee what the Lord has sent.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I just have gathered my harvest store,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when 't is gone, He will send us more!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In vain they spoke to her, ill or good;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She neither listened nor understood.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She minded not if they frowned or smiled;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her face was white, and her eyes were wild,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As, lost in horror, she stood and gazed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To see the corn by her labour raised,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their store of food for the coming year,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Consume before her and disappear!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then came the cry of a little child,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From sleep awakened, in terror wild.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That cry brought life to her fainting heart;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She turned around with a sudden start,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And said, in a husky voice and low,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Which way did that Blessèd Stranger go?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A storm of voices around her rose;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The woman's purpose they all oppose.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"</span><em class="italics">Which way?</em><span>" they angrily say; "but how?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wilt thou have courage to seek him now?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And after thy shameful words to-day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is He to stop for thee on His way?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is He to come when He hears thy call?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But, woman, hast thou no shame at all?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Nay, go not near Him!" another said:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"That man has power to strike thee dead,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And thou hast angered Him! Let Him go—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thy pride has ruined thee; be it so!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though none to help her a hand would lend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That gray-haired woman was still her friend;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She could not speak, for her voice was drowned</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In such a tumult of angry sound.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She only made with her wrinkled hand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A sign the widow could understand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And quick as thought, and before they knew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Away on her wild pursuit she flew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Our Blessèd Lord, with His followers few,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had journeyed on for a mile or two,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When, on the brow of a rocky hill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The others noticed that He stood still</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And looked behind Him; they did the same.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A woman running toward them came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Running and stumbling, and falling oft,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And throwing wildly her arms aloft,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As if entreating them still to stay</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till she could finish the toilsome way!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They looked; and pity their souls possessed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At first in seeing her thus distressed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But when they knew her, their hearts grew hard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor would they longer her prayers regard.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Good Lord, that woman it is," they say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Who scorned and slighted Thee so to-day.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She knows her folly, perhaps, too late;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her, most surely, we should not wait!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She needs me now!" was His sole reply;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And still He waited—they wondered why!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Down in the dust at His feet she fell:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her doleful story she could not tell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For speech had failed, and she vainly tried:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But, stretching her helpless hands, she cried</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(With lips that hardly the words could form,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They trembled so with the inward storm),</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Good Lord, have patience, and pity take</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On me, for the innocent children's sake!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then from her eyes began to pour</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A flood of tears, and she said no more.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She dropped her head on her heaving breast;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But He in His wisdom knew the rest.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when He looked on her, bowed and crushed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her pride all broken, her boasting hushed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Take heart!" He said: "I will give thee more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And better grain than thou hadst before."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The day was drawing toward a close,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sky was clear in its deep repose;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sun, just sinking away from sight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had touched with a solemn crimson light</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The smoky column that, dark and thin,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still rose where the widow's sheaves had been.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The neighbours lingered, or came and went</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To look, and talk of the day's event.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, smiling grimly the wreck to view,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some said: "The widow has had her due!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But more of them shook their heads and sighed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To think of the bitter fruits of pride.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And one old woman looked down the lane,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And wished the widow would come again!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The five poor little ones sat forlorn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Beside the blackened and wasted corn;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And ate the bread that the neighbours brought:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For them, at least, there was pitying thought.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No sin of theirs, if the corn was burned!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then it was that the Lord returned.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Returned, as ever, to save and bless!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And while the people around Him press,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The widow kneels and the children weep,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He lays His hand on the smouldering heap.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His touch has the evil work undone;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in the light of the setting sun</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The corn returned where the ashes lay;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But not as it was at noon that day.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To twice their size had the kernels grown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And each with a burning lustre shone.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For, since that grain through the fire has passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T will bear its colour until the last!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A few, in seeing the store increased</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of her who seemed to deserve it least,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Began to murmur; and yet, maybe,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Themselves were more in the wrong than she!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With all her folly, with all her sin—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For all her ignorant pride had been</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Far more, alas, than her reason strong,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She never did Him that grievous wrong</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of thinking He could refuse the prayer</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of one who sought Him in her despair;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or that her sin, were it twice as great,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could close His heart to her woful state;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or lie so heavily on her soul</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But what His love could outweigh the whole!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But most rejoiced in the happy sight</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of evil conquered and wrong made right.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And so from ruin and wreck was born</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The beautiful, flame-hued Indian corn!</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-eldest-daughter-of-the-king"><span class="bold large">The Eldest Daughter of the King</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>The two stories of the Patriarch, St. John of Alexandria, which are especially interesting, as being without doubt true in all their principal facts, are taken from a short account of that wonderful man, written by St. Leontius, Bishop of Napolis, in Cyprus, who visited Alexandria after the Patriarch's death, and wrote in great part from the dictation of the Patriarch's servant, by name Zaccarias, himself a man of saintly character. The stories must have been written by St. Leontius not long after 620, when the Patriarch died.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Eldest Daughter of the King</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Saint John of Alexandria—blessèd name,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Recalling ever holy thought and deed!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O heart forever warm with heavenly flame!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O hand forever full for others' need!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Blessèd and blessing thousands! Since his day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Twelve hundred years, and more, have come and gone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their beauty dead, their glory passed away:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But in our loving thought he still lives on.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of all who ever walked on earthly sod,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(Though many loved and saintly names there be,)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I know not if another ever trod</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>More closely in his Master's steps than he!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>To comfort all who suffer,—this alone</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His soul desired; for this he prayed and strove</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With heart unchanging; and for him were none</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Too high for pity, nor too low for love.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And often was he rich, and often poor;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For God upon him had great wealth bestowed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which endless store of blessing did procure</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To souls that fainted with their weary load.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor could he e'er from sorrow turn away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor from a brother's need his hand withhold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But when his all was spent, men used to say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The good Lord gave him back a hundredfold.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Enough there was, and ever more to spare,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though help abundant came at every call.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When prudent friends had prayed him to forbear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He only said, "God has enough for all."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till, for their souls' content, he told the truth,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He being now a grey-haired agèd man,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The holy vision that had blessed his youth,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And changed, of all his life, the course and plan.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"A boy I was, and in my father's home</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I slept; 't was night, and I was all alone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When to my side I felt a presence come;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A hand awakened me that touched my own.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I saw the chamber all ablaze with light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there, before me, stood a lady fair,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With olive crowned, and clad in raiment bright,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Such as, I think, the saints in Heaven may wear.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Hers was no earthly beauty, but a grace</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Most sweet and solemn that no words can reach;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I looked awhile in her celestial face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then addressed her, but with timid speech:</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"'Who art thou, O my lady, that dost bring</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Such glory in the night?' Then answered she:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'I am the eldest daughter of the King,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And more than all my sisters, he loves me.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"'For me He left His glory: it was I</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who led Him on along the thorny road,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To suffer, and for others' sin to die;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For me He shared thy sorrow, bore thy load.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"'Take me for thy companion: I will be</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thy friend as I was His, and by the hand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Will lead thee where at evening thou shalt see</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The emperor's face, and in his presence stand.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"While yet the voice was sounding in my ear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The vision ceased; I saw the light no more:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The moon was shining through the window near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And all the house was silent as before.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And, waiting till I saw the dawn ascend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I lay and mused upon this wondrous thing;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And tried, with my child's mind, to comprehend</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who was the eldest daughter of the King,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I prayed, I pondered long in vain; until</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A light from Heaven was on my spirit shed:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And not by wisdom, nor by earthly skill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I knew the meaning of the words she said.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"When Christ our blessèd Lord to earth came down,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And gave His life for lost and thankless men,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And changed His glory for a thorny crown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was Mercy led and did constrain Him then.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Ah, woe to us, if Mercy had not been</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His eldest daughter, and His guide that day!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then had we died, and perished in our sin,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Unpitied, unforgiven, cast away."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Such was the Patriarch's story, and we know</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That Mercy in his heart her dwelling made,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As in no other; and his life below</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was Mercy, in a thousand forms displayed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when the summons came that comes to all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As on a journey distant far he went;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he, rejoicing, heard the heavenly call,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>This token to the stricken church was sent.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A humble convent had his bounty shared,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From Alexandria some few miles away:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there, where he for rest had oft repaired,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An agèd brother sick and dying lay.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For years infirm and helpless had he lain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But strong in faith, and happy in God's will,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through all the weary days and nights of pain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His only work to suffer and lie still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They two were friends, the Patriarch and he,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For oft the busy saint had loved to turn</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From care and work, that peaceful face to see,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And from those patient lips some lesson learn.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And now as he lay dying, glad to go,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet thinking, maybe, of his absent friend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To him was granted in a dream to know,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of that most holy life, the blessèd end.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For, sleeping, he beheld in vision clear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That sombre palace by the poor beloved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the good Patriarch, year after year,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had all their burdens lightened or removed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And down the stairway moved a long array</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of priests and others; slowly did they tread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A grave procession, as on festal day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he, the Patriarch, was at their head.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The loved companions of his toil were there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who helped him long to labour and endure,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who knelt beside him in the church at prayer,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or bore his secret bounty to the poor.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They passed the door where none had knocked in vain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They crossed the courtyard with its well of stone;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But at the outer gate did all remain</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With saddened look, while he went forth alone.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And now the vision changed, he walked no more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The city street that knew his step so well,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But trod a pleasant path, unknown before,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through a fair land, where peace did ever dwell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There rose the emperor's palace on a hill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O'erlooking all the country, where it lay</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Spread out beneath it, beautiful and still,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In all the sweetness of an April day.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Grand was that mansion, stately to behold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To tell its beauty words can ne'er begin,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The thousand columns, and the domes of gold,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And shining all as from a light within.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He neared the palace—of their own accord</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The lofty gates before him open swing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in the glory, as it outward poured,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came forth the eldest daughter of the King,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came as he saw her on that far-off night</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which star-like through his life's long journey shone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wearing her olive crown, her robe of light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And came to meet him, where he walked alone,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He bowed and knelt before her, for he knew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That presence which had blessed him long before;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While from her folded mantle forth she drew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A crown of olive, like the one she wore,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And placed it on the saintly silvered head;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then took his hand. He rose; nor did they wait:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The dreamer watched them as they onward sped,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till, hand in hand, they entered through the gate.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then, as light concealed them, he awoke,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And to the brethren, gathered in his cell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In tearful silence listening while he spoke,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He did the story of his vision tell,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And bade them note what hour the dream was sent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which some with anxious hearts made haste to do;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then waited, fearing what the vision meant;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till time had shown them all they feared was true.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For when the dreaded tidings came at last,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They knew that on that very hour and day</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their much-loved father from this life had passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his own isle of Cyprus, far away.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="bishop-troilus"><span class="bold large">Bishop Troilus</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Bishop Troilus</span></p> + <p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MANSION IN HEAVEN</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In pomp and state, with following great, the Bishop Troilus came</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the town of Alexandria, which knew him long by fame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To see the holy Patriarch, who had been his friend of old,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To hear his words of wisdom, and his saintly life behold.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In youth their paths together lay, and both with one accord</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had chosen then the better part, and thought to serve the Lord;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For half a century now and more had each one gone his way.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The Patriarch nearer was to God, far nearer than that day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his soul was like a garden where the flowers that then were sown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With care and patient tending, had to perfect beauty grown.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And Troilus? ... In the world's esteem he stood as high, or higher;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His piety did all men praise, his eloquence admire;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had fiery words to thrill them, he had flowery words to please,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when he preached on festal days, the people swarmed like bees;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From altar steps to open door there was hardly room to stand.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And 't was not the sermon only, but his presence was so grand;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his grave and agèd beauty, with his form erect and tall,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With saintly face and silver hair, he won the hearts of all.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When through the city he returned, so lofty and serene,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A train of priests attended him, all with obsequious mien;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And children followed open-eyed, and gentle ladies bent</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From balcony and window high to see him as he went.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Indeed he was a stately sight in silken raiment clad,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The ring he wore was valued more than aught the Patriarch had;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the cross upon his bosom, that the people wondering viewed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gave back the sunshine, when he walked, from jewels many-hued.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And men said his life was blameless, but it still must be confessed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though the saints were glad to own him, yet the sinners loved him best.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was rich, and he was famous, and, as all his life had shown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was great in worldly wisdom, and the world will love its own.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But while saints and shiners praised him, there was one who did not praise,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But whose eyes forever watched him with a sad and anxious gaze;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the Patriarch, simple-hearted, was not dazzled like the rest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he knew the deadly passion that the Bishop's soul possessed,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yes, more deadly than another, for it lay so still and cold,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like a serpent coiled within him,—'twas the growing love of gold.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It had choked away his pleasure, it had eaten up his peace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As with every year that left him he had seen his wealth increase,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till his heart grew dry and withered in the smoke of worldly care;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But it dulled him with its poison, and he knew not it was there.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, the Patriarch longed to see him from such cruel bondage free,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he pleaded hard for Troilus every night on bended knee;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For there yet was time to save him, so he hoped and so believed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the days and weeks were passing, and no answer he received.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But with praying he grew bolder, and to combat he began,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he left his door one morning with a wise and hopeful plan;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he said in solemn murmur, as he walked along the way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I must go and fight with Satan for my brother's soul to-day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He is cruel, he is cunning, but his arts will be in vain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The strongest net he ever wove will never bear the strain</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of seeing and of hearing what each day I hear and see,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the Lord has saved my brother if he will but come with me."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was in the early morning, long before the noise and heat,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the life was just beginning in the shady city street,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When he saw a church door open, and he turned and entered in.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I will ask the Lord to help me in this work that I begin."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were some who entered near him, and he saw they came in haste,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Toiling men and burdened women, who had little time to waste;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But they stole some precious minutes in that church to kneel and pray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To refresh their souls and cheer them for the labours of the day;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they gathered close around him on the pavement, for they felt</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That their prayers would rise the higher if their father with them knelt.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he said to them: "My children, you must help me now indeed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For my heart and soul are troubled for a friend in sorest need;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He is low with mortal sickness, but no earthly skill can cure.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Pray the Lord to show His mercy to the poorest of the poor."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So they knelt and prayed together, till the morning sun was high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the Patriarch's heart was kindled, and the time went quickly by.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Troilus too had risen early, and had said his morning prayers,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he said them somewhat coldly, being filled with other cares.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At that moment he was thinking, while he counted up his store,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Upon certain silver goblets he had seen the day before,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which a silversmith had brought him, and had hoped that he would buy.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They were nobly wrought and chiselled, and the price indeed was high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he thought upon his table they would look exceeding fine</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When his friends, the rich and noble, should come in with him to dine;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then how all of them would envy, and the thought his spirit cheered,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When a gentle knock aroused him, and the Patriarch appeared.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Very bright his eyes were shining, and his face was all aglow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his voice was strange and solemn, when he told him, "I must go</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the hospital, my brother, and I came here on my way;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If we both could go together, it would be a happy day.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There I find my greatest blessing, every morning fresh and new,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But far greater, but far sweeter could I share it once with you."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How the heart of Troilus softened, as those eyes upon him shone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At their look of earnest pleading, at the tremor in the tone!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Strange it was that look could melt him and that voice could change him so,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Calling back to life, a moment, what had withered long ago,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some old good that stirred within him, often spurned and thrust aside.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the flowers the Lord had planted, though they dwindled, had not died;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was poor in heavenly treasure, but he loved the Patriarch still.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I will come," he answered quickly; "you may lead me where you will."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were looks and tones of wonder in the hospital that day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the rows of low white couches where the sick and dying lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As, with all his train about him, in his splendour and his pride,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On he walked, the Bishop Troilus, by the simple Patriarch's side.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But erelong the two were parted, for as Troilus looked around,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He recoiled in shrinking horror from each doleful sight and sound;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While the Patriarch loved to linger for a while by every bed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his strong arms ever ready to sustain a drooping head;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Happy in each humble service, and forgetting all his state,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he thanked the Lord who sent him on these stricken ones to wait.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How the pale sad faces brightened into smiles as he drew near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And what loving words were murmured, faintly murmured in his ear!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Does he well," said Bishop Troilus, as he saw him turn and go</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From one bedside to another, "does he well to stoop so low?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet had Troilus only known it, they were not the poor alone</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whom his brother served that morning, but their Master and his own.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was one but just recovered, light of heart, though poor and weak,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a journey long before him, going forth his home to seek,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Far away among the mountains where his wife and children stayed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the Patriarch's love had found him ere the stranger sought his aid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Giving money for the journey, giving blessèd words of cheer.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he turned, for time was pressing, and a sadder face lay near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Worn by months of pain and languor; he was young, had once been strong,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was fading now, but slowly, and perhaps would suffer long,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the hundred wants of sickness who can know that has not proved?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had wearied all about him, but the Patriarch's heart was moved;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So he heard the long complaining to which no one else gave heed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he left him, soothed and peaceful, with enough for all his need.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So with one and with another for a moment he would stay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At each bed he left a blessing, and a blessing brought away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till his purse grew light and empty, as had happened oft before;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though he turned it up and shook it, there was not one penny more.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he turned and sought for Troilus, who that moment, as it chanced,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a look subdued and solemn, stood and gazed, like one entranced,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the strange, unearthly beauty, on the light of perfect peace</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In a woman's face before him; she was nearing her release,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a glory rested on her from the opening door above;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet one shadow marred its splendour when she looked with anxious love</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On a little maid, her daughter, with a pretty, careworn face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who had brought two younger children, waiting now for her embrace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wondering why she did not give it, why so deadly still she lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For they knew not, though she knew it, she would not live out the day.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said the Patriarch: "Brother Troilus, have you nothing you could give</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To this woman and her children, for she has not long to live?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I see her mind is troubled, and I think, before they part,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had she something she could leave them, it would ease her burdened heart;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For myself, I freely promise I will make these babes my care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But to-day my purse is empty, so I pray you not to spare."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh! alas, poor Bishop Troilus! how this pleading broke the spell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the woman's look had woven, and how low his spirit fell!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he dearly loved his money, with a passion deep and blind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As a scholar loves his learning, or a saint his peace of mind.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the eyes of all were on him at that moment, and he knew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was in hopeful expectation of what such a saint would do;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were many who had entered from the busy street to gaze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He would not be shamed before them, they should still have cause to praise;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his purse would have to open, so he turned and waved his hand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the priest who always bore it, with a gesture of command.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For this woman for her daughter and the two poor babes," said he,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Lay down thirty golden pieces in the Patriarch's hand for me."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were none who had not heard him, for his voice was loud and clear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a low, admiring murmur rose from all the couches near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While the Patriarch stood rejoicing in the deed his friend had done;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By himself he judged another, and he thought the victory won.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For one moment Bishop Troilus feels his narrow heart expand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the maiden thanks him weeping, and the children kiss his hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the mother, just departing, from the pillow where she lies,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Turns one happy smile upon him, with a blessing in her eyes.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But alas! on home returning, when the sacrifice was made,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the Patriarch's holy presence was no longer there to aid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He did much bewail his money; half in anger, half in pain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To have parted in a moment with what took so long to gain.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his heart was in a turmoil, and a pain was in his head,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till the raging turned to fever, and he threw him on his bed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In a storm of angry passion that no reason could control;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For to him to part with money was like parting with his soul.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he said no word to any of this rage and inward strife,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the priests who waited on him were in terror for his life,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And as nothing made him better, they took counsel, and agreed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the Patriarch, and he only, was the man to meet their need;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So they sent and humbly prayed him if to come he would be pleased,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his friend the Bishop Troilus was with sudden illness seized.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his chamber lay the Bishop, sick in body, sick in mind;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the Patriarch, wise in spirit, had his malady divined.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So he came and sat beside him, patient still, but pale with grief,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he made one last endeavour for that troubled soul's relief.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his friend was sore and angry, and his words he would not hear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the presence now disturbed him that had lately been so dear.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he lay with face averted, till he heard the Patriarch say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I have brought you back the money that you gave away to-day."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then indeed he started wildly, and his eyes he opened wide,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he turned and faced his brother with a joy he could not hide;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For with sudden hope he trembled, and it paled his fevered cheek;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the Patriarch's heart was sinking, but he still went on to speak:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"When I asked your help this morning, I had nothing of my own,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So I left to you the blessing which had else been mine alone;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For those three dear orphan children I had gladly done the whole,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So their mother up in heaven might be praying for my soul.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I now have come to ask you if this grace you will resign,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Will you take again the money, and let your good deed be mine?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet I pray you to consider, ere you grant it or refuse,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What a great and heavenly treasure I shall win and you will lose;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For indeed I would not wrong you, though to me the gain be great.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So then do not answer rashly,—there is time, we both can wait,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And 't were well to think a little on the words our Master said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How He left the poor behind, that we might serve them in His stead;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And whatever help we grant them, be it great or be it small,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To our blessèd Lord we give it, to our Lord, who gave us all."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then made answer Bishop Troilus, "As for what you now propose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If it please you I am ready, and the bargain we can close.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There are many kinds of service, and each needful in its way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I think the Lord has set me in His church to preach and pray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And to save the souls that perish, and to teach men how to live,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While your own vocation, brother, is with open hand to give.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Let not one defraud the other, take your part and leave me mine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For however we may divide it, all the service is divine.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Let us feed God's flock together, for His needy children care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I the souls, and you the bodies, so the burden we may share."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Then so be it," said the other, but his voice was low and grave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he prayed to God in silence for the soul he could not save.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"We must write it all in order, we must sign and seal it too,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So that mine may be the blessing, while the gold remains with you."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So they wrote a contract solemn, to which each one signed his name,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In which he, the Bishop Troilus, did relinquish every claim</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To whatever reward or merit his one pious deed had earned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Since the thirty golden pieces to his hand had been returned.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the Patriarch counted slowly all the pieces, one by one,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the open hand of Troilus, and his last attempt was done.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All had failed, and heavy-hearted from that chamber forth he went,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While his friend lay still and smiling in the fullness of content;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the fever now had left him, and 't was sweet to lie and rest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With no more a thorn to vex him in his smooth, untroubled breast.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a dreamy satisfaction he was thinking all the while</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How those pretty shining pieces would increase the golden pile</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In that chest of hoarded treasure that already held so much;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he laid his hand upon them with a fond caressing touch.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his thoughts began to wander, and his eyes were closing soon,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the drowsy heat and stillness of the summer afternoon.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then a dream was sent to bless him, as in quiet sleep he lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And it bore him in a vision to the country far away;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he saw the holy city, where the saints and angels dwell;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of its glory, of its beauty, mortal tongue can never tell.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were palm-trees growing stately by the water, crystal clear;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was music ever swelling, sometimes far and sometimes near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As it rose in mystic cadence from the hearts that overflowed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the joy that reigns forever in their beautiful abode.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the people of that city whom he met along the way</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the shining golden pavement, oh, how full of peace were they!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he thought some heavenly vision shone forever in their sight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he looked where they were gazing, but he only saw the light</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As it flooded all with glory, and the air it seemed to fill;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he saw not what they looked on, for his eyes were mortal still.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now among those lighted faces there were some he knew before,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the poor to whom so often he had closed his heart and door;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Such as in the heavenly city he had little thought to find,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the sad and sick and needy had been never to his mind:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the rich were not so many, yet a few of these beside,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who by deeds of love and mercy had their Master glorified.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in perfect health and beauty, among all that bright array,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was the woman he saw dying in the hospital that day.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>All along the road he travelled, to the left and to the right,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Rose the palaces they dwelt in, each a mansion of delight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But all varying in their beauty, far away as eye could reach,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a name in golden letters, high above the door of each.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And sweet faces smiled upon him, from the windows here and there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gentle faces free forever from the shade of earthly care;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he heard the happy voices of the children as they played</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the fair and peaceful gardens, where the roses never fade;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the things he left behind him seemed so very poor and small,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That he wondered, in that glory, why men cared for them at all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But oh, wonder of all wonders, when he saw a name that shone</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O'er a high and arching doorway, yes, a name that was his own!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could it be his eyes deceived him? No, he read it o'er and o'er;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"This," it said, "of Bishop Troilus is the home forevermore."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh the beauty of that palace, with such light and splendour filled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That he thought the clouds of sunset had been hewn its walls to gild;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the golden door stood open, he could catch a glimpse within</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the vast illumined chambers where no foot had ever been.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could only gaze bewildered, for the wonder was too great,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the joy so poured upon him he could hardly bear the weight.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he took one step toward it, but a servant of the King</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who from far-off earth that morning had returned on busy wing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And was bearing gifts and tokens from the scattered church below,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came and passed and stood before him, in the courtyard's golden glow.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he turned to his companions, for a few had gathered near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his words fell hard and heavy on the Bishop's listening ear,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"We must cancel that inscription from the stone, and write thereon</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That Troilus hath this palace sold unto the Patriarch John,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And that thirty golden pieces were the price that he received."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Up then started Bishop Troilus, for his soul was sorely grieved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he tried to speak, but could not, and awoke in his dismay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his hand upon the money close beside him where he lay.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now the long bright day was over; as he saw the sun descend,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Weary day," the Patriarch thought it; he was glad to see it end.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was walking in his garden where the freshening shadows lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the flowers that drooped at noontime stood erect in beauty gay;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But their brightness could not cheer him, and he bent his head and sighed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he thought, with wondering sadness, that the Lord his prayer denied,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he heard a step behind him, and he looked; but who was there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wild of look, like one who struggled with a pain he could not bear?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could it be the stately Bishop? Yes, but oh, how changed to see!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he said with tears and trembling, "O my brother, pray for me!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How the Patriarch's heart rebounded from the weight that on it pressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At the change so deep and sudden, in those broken words expressed!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How his cheek grew red with gladness, how it smoothed his troubled brow!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"God forgive me if I doubted, all my prayers are answered now."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Come," he said, "my brother Troilus, sit beside me, tell me all;"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he led him, pale and helpless, to a seat beside the wall.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And there Troilus, clinging closely to that strong and helpful hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Trusting in the heart that loved him and his thoughts could understand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Told the story of his vision to his awed and listening friend,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All that dream of light and glory, with its sad, unlooked-for end:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his voice, which trembled ever, wellnigh failed him when he told</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the horror of that waking, with his hand upon the gold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When his eyes, long blind, were opened, and he saw the wreck within,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And one fearful moment, showed him what his wasted life had been.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Now," he said, "my courage fails me when I think to mend my ways.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I have wasted all God gave me,—mind, and strength, and length of days,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the gold I gave my soul for pulls me downward with its weight;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Help me if you can, oh, help me! Say it is not yet too late."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he looked with eyes beseeching at the Patriarch, who replied</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a smile that fell like sunshine on the faint heart by his side,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"What! too late for God's forgiveness, when He calls you to repent?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was to save you, not to lose you, that the blessèd dream was sent;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is His help, not mine, my brother, you are needing, and you know,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If we ask it, He will give it, for Himself has told us so.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the prodigal returning shall be welcomed all the more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If the years were long and many since he left his Father's door."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But," said Troilus, "I am agèd, and my manhood's strength is past;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>After such a life ungodly, can I hope for grace at last?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Never fear," the Patriarch answered, "there is joy in heaven to-day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they ask not in their gladness if your hair be black or gray."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So then Troilus gathered courage, and that night, by deed and word,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gave himself and all his substance to the service of the Lord;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet in his own strength mistrusting, he implored his friend anew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his daily prayer to aid him, and he promised so to do.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the thirty golden pieces he returned to him again,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yes, and other thirty with them, for the change was not in vain,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he left the past behind him, and a better life began;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From that evening in the garden he became another man.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was no more train about him when he walked the city through,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the priests who once attended now had better work to do;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the ladies cared no longer from their balconies to lean,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When of worldly pomp and splendour there was nothing to be seen.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the cross of many jewels on his bosom shone no more,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Having gone on works of mercy to increase his heavenly store.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the poor and needy sought him; he was now their faithful friend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they knew, whatever befell them, on his love they might depend.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So his closing days were happy, after years of sordid care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For no gain can bring contentment till the poor have had their share;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he lightened many a burden, and he righted many a wrong,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the wealth became a blessing that had been a curse so long;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his secret hoard was scattered, and men said that he died poor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he found great wealth in heaven at the end, we may be sure.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-crosses-on-the-wall"><span class="bold large">The Crosses on the Wall</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>This beautiful legend has for me a most peculiar interest, owing to the circumstances under which I first heard it. It was taught to me by a very dear young friend whom I had known and loved from his infancy,—Piero, the only surviving child of Count Giuseppe Pasolini Zanelli of Faenza. It was only last October—eight months ago—and we were all staying together in the home of his beloved and still beautiful grandmother, at Bassano, in the Veneto. It was the last evening that we expected to pass together, and Pierino (we had never been able to give up calling him by that childish diminutive) brought a book with him, a collection of popular legends compiled by De Gubernatis, and said that he had a story to read us. It was "The Crosses on the Wall," and it has always seemed to me as though he read it on that particular evening to prepare us for what was to come. For some months he had been not quite so strong as usual, yet no one felt any particular apprehension, until on the twenty-eighth of November he died, almost without warning. He was twenty-two years old, of a very beautiful character,—so good that we ought to have known he was not for us.</span></p> + <p class="pnext"><span>With him two great and ancient families come to an end,—the Pasolini-Zanelli of Faenza, and the Baroni-Semitecolo of Bassano: these last are the only descendants of that Semitecolo who worked in mosaic at Torcello.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Crosses on the Wall</span></p> + <p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Legend of Primiero</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Come, children, listen to what I tell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For my words are wise to-day:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From Primiero among the hills</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was the legend brought away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And Primiero among the hills</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is a little world apart,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where is much to love and much to learn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If you have a willing heart.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It lies on high, like a stranded ship,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the parted wave of time;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not far from the troubled world we know,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the way is hard to climb.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the mountains rise and close it in,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With their walls of green and gray;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With crag and forest and smooth-worn cliff,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the clouds alone can stray.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when a house they have builded there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If a blessing they would win,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Above the door do they write a prayer,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That Christ may dwell therein.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I think, throughout the ancient town,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On its steep ascending road,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In many a heart, in many a home,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Has He taken His abode.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when a burden is hard to bear—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And such burdens come to all—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They tell the story I 'm telling now,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the crosses on the wall.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is a pearl of wisdom, gathered far</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the dim and distant past;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But ever needed, but ever new,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As long as the world shall last.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For never has been since earth was made,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And surely shall never be,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A man so happy or wise or great,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He might from the cross be free.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The tale it is of a widow poor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And by trouble sorely pressed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of how, through sorrow and many tears,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At the end her soul was blest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had not been always poor and sad,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her early years were bright,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a happy home, and with parents kind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And herself their hearts' delight!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A mother's darling, a father's pride,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was fair in form and face;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A sunny creature, a joy to all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her sweet and winning grace.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then, early married to one she loved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had still been shielded well;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her he laboured, for her he thought,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And on her no burden fell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She worked, indeed; but what work was hers</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the short and happy hours?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To pluck the fruit from her orchard trees,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or to tend the garden flowers;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>To sit and spin, and to sing the while</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In her porch with roses gay;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To spread the table with plenty piled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And to watch the children play.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their home was a little nest of peace;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a mile beyond the town,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In that sheltered valley, green with woods,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the river murmurs down.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she never dreamed of change to come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(Though a change must all expect,)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till the blow, like lightning, on her fell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her happy life was wrecked.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But who could have thought the man would die?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were few so strong as he!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From his forest work they bore him home,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Struck dead by a falling tree.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A petted child, and a wife beloved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had hardly sorrow known,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till the strong, brave man was borne away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she faced the world alone.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Alone, with a babe too young to speak,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And with other children five:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Oh, why," she asked, "are the strong removed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the feeble left alive?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But where is the good of asking</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When our helpers disappear?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That question never was answered yet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And it never will be, here.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was little time to sit and weep;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She must rise, and bear the strain;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Alone she stood, with the home to keep,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the children's bread to gain.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The best of herself had gone with him;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had no more faith nor trust:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She could not bow to the Lord's decree,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For she felt it all unjust.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The good Lord cares for a widow's need,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But on Him she did not call.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She laboured hard, and she fought with fate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they lived—but that was all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She fought her battle with fate, and failed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As many have failed before;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If against the thorns we push and press,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They will only prick the more.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She could not bear with the children now,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she called them rude and wild;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Forgetting quite, in her sullen grief,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That she had been once a child.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yes, wild they were; and like all wild things</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They were light and swift and strong;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her poor, sick spirit turned away</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the gay, unruly throng.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They swam the river, they climbed the trees,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They were full of life and play;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But oft, when their mother's voice they heard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They hid from her sight away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They did not love her, and that she knew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And of that she oft complained;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But not by threats nor by angry words</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could the children's love be gained.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Respect and honour we may command;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They will come at duty's call:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But love, the beautiful thornless rose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Grows wild, when it grows at all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she grew bitter, as time went on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Grew bitter and hard and sore.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till one day she cried in her despair,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I can bear my life no more!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Look down from Heaven, good Lord, and see</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And pity my cruel fate!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, come, and in mercy take away</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>My burden, for 't is too great!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"My heart is breaking with all its load,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I feel my life decline;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Never I think did the woman live</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who has borne a cross like mine!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>To her cry for help an answer came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And solemn it was, and strange!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For a silence deep around her fell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the place seemed all to change.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She stood in a sad and sombre room,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where from ceiling down to floor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Along the wall and on every side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were crosses—nothing more.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were crosses old, and crosses new,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were crosses large and small;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in their midst there was One who stood</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the Master of them all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Before His presence her eyes dropped low,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her wild complaining died;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For she knew the cross that He had borne</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was greater than all beside.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He bade her choose, and take away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From among the many there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Another cross, in exchange for hers,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That she found too great to bear.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She looked for those that were least in size,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she quickly lifted one;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But oh, 't was heavy, and pained her more</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than her own had ever done!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She laid it back with a trembling hand—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And whose cross is that?" she cried;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For heavier 't is than even mine!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a solemn voice replied:</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"That cross belongs to a maiden young,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But of youth she little knows;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the days to her are days of pain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the night brings scant repose.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"A helpless, suffering, useless thing!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her pain will never cease,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till death in pity will come one day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her troubles end in peace.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She never has walked the pleasant fields,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor has sat beneath the trees;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The hospital wall that shuts her in</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Is the only world she sees.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She has no mother, she has no home,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in strangers' hands she lies;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With none to care for her while she lives,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor weep for her when she dies."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But why is the cross so small, my Lord,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And why does her heart not break?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She counts it little," the answer came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For she bears it for my sake."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The widow blushed with a sudden shame;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To her eyes the tears arose:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She dried them soon, and again she turned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And another cross she chose.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It fell from her hand against the wall,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she let it there remain:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"That cross shall never be mine," she said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Though I take my own again!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And whose is this that I cannot hold?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For it seems to burn my hand!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And never, I think, was heart so strong</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That could such a weight withstand."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"The cross it is of a gentle wife,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she wears it all unseen;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With early sorrow her hair is white,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But she keeps a smile serene.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She gave her heart to an evil man,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she thought him good and true;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And long she trusted and long believed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But at last the truth she knew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She knows that his soul is stained with crime,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the worst she still conceals;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Abuse and terror her sole reward,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the Lord knows what she feels!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She cannot leave him, for love dies hard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her children bear his name;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But she prays for grace, to keep and guard</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their innocent lives from shame.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She trembles oft when his step she hears</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On a lonely winter night;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she hides her frightened babes afar</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From their cruel father's sight.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And she dares not even hope for death,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though his hand might set her free:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T were well for her in the grave to rest;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But where would the children be?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The widow shuddered, her face grew pale,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she no more turned to look:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She reached her hand to the wall near by,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a cross by chance she took.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was not so large as the first had been,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But it seemed a fearful weight!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And whose am I holding now?" she asked,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For it did not look so great.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"A mother's cross is the one you bear,"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So the voice in answer said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And she once had children six like you;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But her children all are dead.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"She has all besides that earth can give;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She has friends and wealth to spare,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And house and land—but she counts them not,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the children are not there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Time passes slowly, and she grows old;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But she may not yet depart.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In lonely splendour she counts the years,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With an empty, hungry heart.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And she knows by whom the cross was sent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she tries her head to bow;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But six green mounds by the churchyard wall</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are the most she cares for now."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The widow thought of her own wild brood,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she felt a creeping chill:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, "Oh, give me back my cross!" she said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I will keep and bear it still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Forgive me, Lord" (and with that she knelt,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And for very shame she wept).</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I know my sin, that I could not bow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor Thy holy will accept.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Oh, give me patience, for life is hard;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the daily strength I need!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And by Thy grace I will try to bear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The burden for me decreed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I'll change my ways with the children now,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though they give me added cares.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Poor babes! I know, if they love me not,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the blame is mine, not theirs!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She kept her word as the weeks went on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she fought with fate no more:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was now with a patient, humble heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That her daily cross she bore.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The children wondered to see her change</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So greatly in look and speech!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She met them now with a smile so kind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a gentle word for each.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And soon they learned, from her altered ways,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What her words had vainly taught;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Their love, that long she had claimed in vain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Came back to her all unsought.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were merry shouts and dancing feet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the mother came in sight;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were little arms around her thrown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were eyes with joy alight.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>With love for teacher, they learned to help,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was work for fingers small:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her heart grew soft like the earth in spring,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she thanked the Lord for all!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her girls so pretty, her boys so brave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And so helpful all and kind!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She wondered often, and thought with shame</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of how she had once repined.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For in their presence she oft forgot</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Her burden of want and care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Forgot her trouble—forgot, almost,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That she had a cross to bear!</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="suora-marianna"><span class="bold large">Suora Marianna</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Suora Marianna</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Little children, will you listen to a simple tale of mine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That I learned at San Marcello, in the Tuscan Apennine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From an agèd, saintly woman, gone to heaven long ago?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It has helped me on my journey, and as yet you cannot know</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Half the wisdom stored within it, nor the comfort it can give;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But still, try and not forget it! You will need it if you live,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some day, when life is waning and your hands begin to tire,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>You will think of Marianna, and her vision by the fire.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In a convent, old and quiet, near a little country town,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On a chestnut-shaded hillside, to the river sloping down,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Dwelt a few of those good sisters who go out among the poor,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who must labour late and early, and much weariness endure;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the one who did in patience and in all good works excel</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was the Sister Marianna, she whose story now I tell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was ever kind and willing, for each heavy task prepared:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No one ever thought to spare her, and herself she never spared.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All unpraised and all unnoticed, bearing burdens not her own,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet she lived as rich and happy as a queen upon her throne!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was rich, though few would think it; for God gave her grace to choose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not the world's deceitful riches, but the wealth one cannot lose.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There are many heap up treasure, but it is not every one</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who will take his treasure with him when his earthly life is done.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was she beautiful? I know not. She had eyes of peaceful light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her face looked sweet and blooming in its frame of linen white.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the sick and heavy-hearted she was pleasant to behold,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she seemed a heavenly vision to the feeble and the old.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was happy when she wandered up the wandering mountain road,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Bearing food and warmth and blessing to some desolate abode,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though the ice-cold winds were blowing and her woman's strength was tried;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For she knew who walked there with her, in her heart and by her side.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was happy—oh, so happy!—in her little whitewashed cell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Looking out among the branches, where they gave her leave to dwell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In her scanty hours of leisure; for there, looking from the wall,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were the dear and holy faces that she loved the best of all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was an old and faded picture, poorly painted at the best,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of Our Lord, the Holy Infant, in His Mother's arms at rest.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But her faith and loving fancy had a glory to it lent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the faces that she saw there were not what the artist meant</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the wooden shelf before it she would often-times adorn</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the buttercup and bluebell, and the wild rose from the thorn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which she gathered, when returning, while the morning dew was bright,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From some home, remote and lonely, where she watched the sick by night.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So her life was full of sunshine, for in toiling for the Lord</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had found the hidden sweetness that in common things lies stored:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He has strewn the earth with flowers, and each eye their brightness sees;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But He filled their cups with honey, for His humble working bees.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But there came a time—poor sister!—when her rosy cheek grew pale,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her eyes, with all their sunlight, seemed to smile as through a veil;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her step was weak and heavy, as she trod the steep ascent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where through weeks of wintry weather to her loving work she went.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a foot-path, lone and narrow, winding up among the trees,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And 't was hard to trace in winter, when the slippery ground would freeze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the snow fall thick above it, hiding every sign and mark;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But she went that way so often she could climb it in the dark!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was to nurse a poor young mother, by fierce malady assailed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That she made the daily journey, and she never once had failed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now the short sharp days were over, and the spring had just begun;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Every morn the light came sooner, and more strength was in the sun.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>All around the grass was springing, and its tender verdure spread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Mid the empty burrs of chestnuts, and the old leaves, brown and dead,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Low and small, but creeping, creeping till it almost touched the edge</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the daily lessening snow-drifts, under rock or thorny hedge.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the wreck of last year's autumn life awakened, strong and new,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the buds were crowding upward, though as yet the flowers were few.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many nights had she been watching, and with little rest by day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her heart was in the chamber where that helpless woman lay;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There the flame of life she cherished, when it almost ceased to burn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Praying God to help and keep them till the husband should return.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was the old and common story, such as all of us can hear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If we care to, in the mountains, every day throughout the year!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She who languished, weak and wasting, in the garret chamber there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had been once as strong and happy as the wild birds in the air.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had been a country beauty, for the boys to serenade;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the poets sang about her, in the simple rhymes they made,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And with glowing words compared her to the lilies as they grew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or to stars, or budding roses, as their manner is to do.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the man who played at weddings with his ancient violin,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his sad, impassioned singing, had contrived her heart to win;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And one brilliant April morning he had brought her home, a bride,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To his farm and low-built cottage on the mountain's terraced side.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a poor, rough home to look at, and from neighbours far away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But with love and health and music there was much to make it gay.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They were happy, careless people, and they thought not to complain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though the door were cracked and broken, or the roof let in the rain:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They could pile the fire with branches, while the winter storms swept by;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the rest, their life was mostly out beneath the open sky.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Time had come, and brought its changes,—sunshine first, and then the shade,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Frost untimely, chestnuts blighted. Sickness came, and debts were made;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Fields were sold, alas, to pay them; yet their troubles did not cease,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the poor man's heart was troubled thus to see his land decrease!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Fields were gone, and bread was wanting, for there now were children small;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Much he loved them, much he laboured—but he could not feed them all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So he left them, heavy-hearted, and his fortune went to try</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the low Maremma country, where men gain or where they die,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With its soft and treacherous beauty, with its fever-laden air;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But as yet the fever spared him, and they hoped it yet would spare.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a long and cruel winter in the home he left behind:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Lonely felt the house without him, and the young wife moped and pined:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still her children's love sustained her, till this sickness laid her low;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When good Sister Marianna came to nurse her, as you know.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Week on week had hope been waning, as more feeble still she grew:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Marianna tried, but vainly, every simple cure she knew.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the doctor gave up hoping, and his long attendance ceased:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I can do no more," he told her; "you had better call the priest.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To her husband I have written; he will have the news to-day:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If he cares again to see her, he had best be on his way!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now the priest has done his office; at the open door he stands,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he says to Marianna: "I can leave her in your hands,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I have other work that calls me; if to-night she chance to die,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>You can say the prayers, good sister, for her soul as well as I."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So they left her, all unaided, in the house forlorn and sad,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still to watch and think and labour with what failing strength she had.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was none to share her burden, none to speak to, none to see—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Save a helpful boy of seven, and a restless one of three,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their little dark-eyed sister (she was five, and came between),</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a baby, born that winter, which the father had not seen.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Two days more! Her friend lay sleeping, and she watched beside the bed:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In her arms she rocked the baby, while the Latin prayers she said,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Prayers to help a soul departing;—yet she never quite despaired!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Might not yet the Lord have pity, and that mother's life be spared?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was so hard to see her going—such a mother, kind and dear!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was ne'er another like her in the country, far or near!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(So thought Sister Marianna.) Yet to murmur were a sin.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But her tears kept rising, rising, though she tried to hold them in,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till one fell and lay there shining, on the head that she caressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Small and pretty, dark and downy, lying warm against her breast,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was silent; something moved her that had neither place nor part</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the grave and stately cadence of the prayers she knew by heart.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then she spoke, with eyes dilated, with her soul in every word,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As to one she saw before her—"Thou hast been a child, my Lord!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thou hast lain as small and speechless as this infant on my knees;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thou hast stretched toward Thy Mother little helpless hands like these:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Thou hast known the wants of children, then— Oh, listen to my plea,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For one moment, Lord, remember what Thy Mother was to Thee!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Think, when all was dark around Thee how her love did Thee enfold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How she tended, how she watched Thee; how she wrapped Thee from the cold!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How her gentle heart was beating, on that night of tears and strife,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the cruel guards pursued Thee, when King Herod sought Thy life!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How her arms enclosed and hid Thee, through that midnight journey wild!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, for love of Thine own Mother, save the mother of this child!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now she paused and waited breathless; for she seemed to know and feel</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the Lord was there, and listened to her passionate appeal.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then she bowed her head, all trembling; but a light was in her eye,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her soul had heard the answer: that young mother would not die!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yes, the prayer of faith had saved her! And a change began that day:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When she woke her breath was easy, and the pain had passed away.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So the day that dawned so sadly had a bright and hopeful close,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a solemn, sweet thanksgiving from the sister's heart arose.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now the night had closed around them, and a lonesome night it seemed!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the sky was black and starless, and for hours the rain had streamed:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the wind and rain together made a wild and mournful din,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As they beat on door and window, madly struggling to come in.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Marianna, faint and weary with the strain of many days,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the broad stone hearth was kneeling, while she set the fire ablaze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the poor lone soul she cared for would, ere morning, need to eat.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Now, God help me," said the sister, "this night's labour to complete!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a meal she knew would please her, which she lovingly prepared,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of that best and chosen portion, from the convent table spared,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which she brought, as was her habit, with much other needed store,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the worn old willow basket, standing near her on the floor.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>On her work was much depending, so she planned to do her best;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she set the earthen pitcher on the coals as in a nest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the embers laid around it; then she thought again, and cast</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the pile a few gray ashes, that it might not boil too fast.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the touch of sleep was on her, she was dreaming while she planned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the wooden spoon kept falling from her limp and listless hand.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then she roused her, struggling bravely with this languor, which she viewed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As a snare, a sore temptation, to be fought with and subdued.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But another fear assailed her—what if she should faint or fall?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And to-night the storm-swept cottage seems so far away from all!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How the fitful wind is moaning! And between the gusts that blow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She can hear the torrent roaring, in the deep ravine below.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her head is aching strangely, as it never did before:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Good Lord, help me!" she is saying: "this can last but little more!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O my blessèd Lord and Master, only help me through the night—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Only keep my eyes from closing till they see the morning light!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For that mother and that baby do so weak and helpless lie,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And with only me to serve them,—if I leave them, they may die!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She is better—yes, I know it, but a touch may turn the scale.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I can send for help to-morrow, but to-night I must not fail!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was in vain; for sleep had conquered, and the words she tried to say</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>First became a drowsy murmur, then grew faint and died away.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she slept as sleep the weary, heedless how the night went on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With her pitcher all untended, with her labour all undone;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the wall her head reclining, in the chimney's empty space,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While the firelight flared and flickered on her pale and peaceful face.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was her humble prayer unanswered? Oh, the Lord has many a way</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That His children little think of, to send answers when they pray!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was long she sat there sleeping—do you think her work was spoiled?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No, the fir-wood fire kept burning, and the pitcher gently boiled:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ne'er a taint of smoke had touched it, nor one precious drop been spilt;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When she moved and looked around her, with a sudden sense of guilt.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But her eyes, when first they opened, saw a vision, strange and sweet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For a little Child was standing on the hearth-stone at her feet.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He seemed no earthly infant, for His robe was like the snow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a glory shone about Him that was not the firelight glow.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And Himself her work was doing! For He kept the fire alive,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He watched the earthen pitcher, that no danger might arrive</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the simple meal, now ready, with the coals around it piled;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then He turned His face toward her, and she knew the Holy Child.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was her Lord who stood before her! And she did not shrink nor start—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was more of joy than wonder in her all-believing heart.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When her willing hands were weary, when her patient eyes were closed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had finished all she failed in, He had watched while she reposed.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Do you ask of His appearance? Human words are weak and cold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is enough to say she knew Him—that is all she ever told.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yes, as you and I will know Him when that happy day shall come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When, if we on earth have loved Him, He will bid us welcome home!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But with that one look He left her, and the vision all had passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(Though the peace it left within her to her dying hour would last!)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Storm had ceased, and wind was silent, there was no more sound of rain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the morning star was shining through the window's broken pane.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Later, when the sun was rising, Marianna looked to see,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>O'er the stretch of rain-washed country, what the day was like to be,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While the door she softly opened, letting in the morning breeze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As it shook the drops by thousands from the wet and shining trees.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she saw the sky like crystal, for the clouds had rolled away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though they lay along the valleys, in their folds of misty grey,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or to mountain sides were clinging, tattered relics of the storm.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And among the trees below her she could see a moving form;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was the husband home returning, yes, thank God! he came at last:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was no one else would hasten up that mountain road so fast.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now the drooping boughs concealed him, now he came in sight again;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All night long had he been walking in the darkness, in the rain;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the miles of ghostly forest, through the villages asleep,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had borne his burden bravely, till he reached that hillside steep;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And as yet he seemed not weary, for his springing step was light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But his face looked worn and haggard with the anguish of the night.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now his limbs began to tremble, and he walked with laboured breath,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he saw his home before him, should he find there life or death?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How his heart grew faint within him as he neared the wished-for place!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One step more, his feet had gained it, they were standing face to face.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"God has helped us!" was her answer to the question in his eye;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her smile of comfort told him that the danger had gone by.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was morning now, fair morning! and the broken sunlight fell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the boughs that crossed above her, where the buds began to swell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As adown the sloping pathway, that her feet so oft had pressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Went the Sister Marianna to her convent home to rest.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was spring that breathed around her, for the winter strove no more,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the snowdrifts all had vanished with the rain the night before.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now a bee would flit beside her, as she lightly moved along;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or a bird among the branches tried a few low notes of song.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But her heart had music sweeter than the bird-notes in her ears!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was leaving joy behind her in that home of many tears:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Hope was there, and health returning; there were happy voice and smile,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the father at his coming had brought plenty for a while.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she knew with whom she left them, for herself His care had proved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When her mortal eyes were opened, and she saw the face she loved,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On that night of storm and trouble, when to help her He had come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As He helped His own dear Mother in their humble earthly home.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>As she went the day grew warmer; sweeter came the wild bird's call;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then, what made her start and linger? 'T was a perfume, that was all:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Faint, but yet enough to tell her that the violets were in bloom;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she turned aside to seek them, for that picture in her room.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-lupins"><span class="bold large">The Lupins</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>The simple story of "The Lupins" is very commonly known among the country people, who often quote it as a remedy for discontent.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Lupins</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a day in late November,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the fruits were gathered in;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Day to dream in, and remember</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All the beauty that had been.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Peacefully the year was dying;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Soft the air, and deep the blue;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Brown and bare the fields were lying,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the summer harvest grew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Autumn flowers had bloomed and seeded;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet a few of humblest kind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Waiting till they most were needed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Brought the pleasant days to mind.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Here and there a red-tipped daisy</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still its small bright face would show;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While above the distance hazy</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Rose the mountains, white with snow.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a light subdued and tender,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Shone the sun on vale and hill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the faded autumn splendour</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Left a sober sweetness still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a road that wandered, winding,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Far among the hills away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Walked a man, despondent, finding</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Little comfort in the day.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Pale of tint and fine of feature,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Formed with less of strength than grace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Seldom went a sadder creature,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Seeking work from place to place.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He from noble race descended,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Heir to wealth and honoured name,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who had oft the poor befriended</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When about his door they came,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a brother's evil doing</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had to poverty been brought:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now his listless way pursuing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ever on the past he thought.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He, to hope no longer clinging,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Drifted, led he knew not where,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a sound of far-off singing</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Floating in the dreamy air,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many voices sweetly blending,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Sounding o'er the hills remote,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Every verse the same, and ending</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In one plaintive, long-drawn note.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Olive gatherers, I know them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Singing songs from tree to tree;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If the road will lead me to them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There are food and work for me."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He a humble meal was making,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he warmed him in the sun;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From his pocket slowly taking</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yellow lupins, one by one.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Most forlorn he felt and lonely,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he ate them on the way;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For those lupins, and they only,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were his food for all the day.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Since to shame his brother brought him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Want had often pressed him sore;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet misfortune never brought him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Quite so low as this before!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"If my lot be hard and painful,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There 's one comfort still for me;"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(Said he, with a smile disdainful,)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Poorer, I can never be.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"There's no lower step to stand on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No more burning shame to feel:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not a crust to lay my hand on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Only lupins for a meal!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could see the laden table</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where his parents used to dine:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Well for them who were not able</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the future to divine.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Oh, but he was glad God took them</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ere they saw him fall so low:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How their cherished hope forsook them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They had never lived to know.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I, so dearly loved and cared for,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I, on whom such hopes were built,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whom such blessings were prepared for—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Ruined by a brother's guilt!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now he wrung his hands despairing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Stamped his foot upon the ground;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Bitter thoughts his heart were tearing,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When he heard a footstep sound.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he started, sobered quickly,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Took an attitude sedate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With that terror, faint and sickly,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which he often felt of late.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>What if some old friend should find him?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he turned, the story tells,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he saw a man behind him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Picking up the lupin shells;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Picking up the shells and eating</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What the other cast away.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now abashed, their eyes were meeting:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a beggar, worn and gray,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Hollow-eyed and thin and wasted;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By his look you might suppose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had ne'er a morsel tasted</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Since the sun that morning rose.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Stood the younger man astonished,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And no more bewailed his fate;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Only bowed his head, admonished</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By the sight of want so great.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then he said: "Come here, my brother,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the lupins we will share;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Maybe, if we help each other,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>God will have us in His care."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Thank the Lord! and you, kind master!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>May He help you in your need;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Save your soul from all disaster</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And remember your good deed!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said the beggar, smiling brightly.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the other thus replied,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now content, and walking lightly</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By his poorer neighbour's side,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Friend, you have a blessing brought me.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I thank you in my turn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For a lesson you have taught me</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which I needed much to learn.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And henceforth will I endeavour</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not to pine for fortune high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But remember there is ever</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some one lower down than I.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But alas, when I was younger,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Wealth and honoured state were mine;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Shame, my friend, is worse than hunger:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T is for this that I repine."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the beggar rose up stately,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Looked the other in the face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Saying (for he wondered greatly),</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Poverty is no disgrace;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For our Lord, I think, was poorer</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Once than you or even I,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And His poor of Heaven are surer</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Than the rich who pass them by."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So the two went on together,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Casting on the Lord their care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Happy in the balmy weather,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Happy in their simple fare.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now an ancient olive o'er them</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Threw its slender lines of shade,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Bending low its boughs before them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Silver-leafed that cannot fade;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Bearing fruit in winter season,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still through every change the same:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Tree of peace—they had good reason</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who have called it by that name!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And with that the story leaves them;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>You can end it as you please:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gain that cheers, or loss that grieves them,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Life of toil, or life of ease.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did some fortune unexpected</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Give to one his wealth again?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or did both, forlorn, neglected,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>End their days in want and pain?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Many years have they been dwelling</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where such trifles of the way</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Are not counted worth the telling!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Both are with the Lord to-day.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He in whom their souls confided</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did for both a home prepare;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet that humble meal divided</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Gives a blessing even there.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-silver-cross"><span class="bold large">The Silver Cross</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>The story of "St. Caterina of Siena and her Silver Cross" is one of her many visions, recorded by her confessor.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Silver Cross</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the streets of old Siena, at the dawning of the day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Went the holy Caterina, as the bells began to sound;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the light of peace celestial in her eyes of olive gray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For her soul was with the angels, while her feet were on the ground.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>She was fair as any lily, with as delicate a grace;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the air of early morning had just tinged her cheek with rose:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet one hardly thought of beauty in that pale, illumined face,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the souls in trouble turned to, finding comfort and repose.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the men their heads uncovered, though they dared not speak her praise,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When they saw her like a vision down the row street descend;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they wondered what she looked at, with that far-off dreamy gaze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While her lips were often moving, as though talking to a friend.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were few abroad so early, and she scarcely heard a sound,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Save the cooing of the pigeons, as about her feet they strayed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or the bell that sweetly called her to the church where she was bound;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While the palaces around her stood in silence and in shade.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the towers built for warfare rose about her, dark and proud,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But their summits caught a glory, as the morning onward came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the summer sky beyond them was alight with fleecy cloud,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the gray of dawn was changing, first to rose and then to flame.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a shrine of the Madonna, at a corner where she passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Stood a stranger leaning on it, as though weary and forlorn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a bundle slung behind him and a cloak about him cast;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he shivered in the freshness of the pleasant summer morn.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Said the stranger, "Will you help me?" and she looked on him and knew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By his hand that trembled feebly as he held it out for aid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By his eyes that were so heavy, and his lips of ashen hue,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the terrible Maremma had its curse upon him laid.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So she listened to his story, that was pitiful to hear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of a widowed mother waiting on the mountain for her son;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>How to help her he had laboured till the summer time drew near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And of how the fever took him just before his work was done.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was young and he was hopeful, and the smile began to come</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his eyes, as though they thanked her for the pity she bestowed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he said: "I shall recover if I reach my mountain home,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And if some good Christian people will but help me on the road.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For I go to Casentino, where the air is pure and fine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But my strength too often fails me, and the place is far away;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So I pray you give me something, for a little bread and wine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That I may not set out fasting on my weary walk to-day."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then a certain faint confusion with her pity seemed to blend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her face, so sweet and saintly, showed the shadow of a cloud,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As she said: "I am no lady, though you call me so, my friend,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But a poor Domenicana who to poverty am vowed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I can give a prayer to help you on your journey, nothing more,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For these garments I am wearing are the sisterhood's, not mine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the very bread they gave me when I left the convent door</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To a beggar by the wayside I this morning did consign.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I would give you all you ask for if I had it to command."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then she sighed and would have left him, but the stranger made her stay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he held her by the mantle, with his cold and wasted hand:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For the love of Christ, my lady, do not send me thus away!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had used the name unthinking, but it moved her none the less,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she turned again toward him, with a softened, solemn air,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While her hand began to wander up and down her simple dress,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As though vaguely it were seeking for some trifle she could spare.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then the rosary she lifted that was hanging at her waist,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And its silver cross unfastened, which was small and very old,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the edges worn and rounded and the image half effaced,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet she loved it more than lady ever loved a cross of gold.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It had been her life companion, in the tempest, in the calm;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>She had held it to her bosom when she prayed with troubled mind;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she kissed it very gently, as she laid it in his palm,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For the love of Christ, then, take it; 'tis the only thing I find."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So he thanked her and departed, and she thought of him no more,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Save to ask the Lord to help him, when that day in church she prayed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the cross of Caterina on his heart the stranger wore,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And her presence unforgotten like a blessing with him stayed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now the city life is stirring, and the streets are in the sun,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the bells ring out their music o'er the busy town again,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the people slowly scatter from the church where Mass is done;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the blessèd Caterina in her seat did still remain.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the sleep divine was on her, which so often to her came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When of mortal life the shadow from around her seemed to fall;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she looked on things celestial with her happy soul aflame:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But that day the dream that held her was the sweetest of them all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the Lord appeared in glory, and he seemed to her to stand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In a chamber filled with treasures such as eye had never seen;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a cross of wondrous beauty He was holding in His hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Set with every stone most precious and with pearls of light serene.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He told her that those treasures were the presents He received</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the souls on earth who love Him, and are seeking Him to please.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were they deeds of noble service? that was what she first believed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And she thought, "What happy people who can bring Him gifts like these!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For herself could offer nothing, and she sighed to think how far</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the best she ever gave him were the gems in that bright store.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But He held the cross toward her, that was shining like a star,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And He bade her look and tell Him had she seen it e'er before.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"No," she answered humbly, "never did my eyes the like behold."</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But a flood of sudden sweetness came upon her like a wave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For she saw among the jewels and the work of beaten gold</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was the little Cross of Silver that for love of Christ she gave.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I think her dream that morning was a message from above,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That a proof of deepest meaning we might learn and understand,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though our very best be worthless that we give for Jesus' love,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It will change and turn to glory when He takes it in His hand.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst" id="the-tears-of-repentance"><span class="bold large">The Tears of Repentance</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="pfirst"><span>THE TEARS OF REPENTANCE I found in a book called</span> <em class="italics">Maraviglie di Dio ne' Suoi Santi</em><span>, by the Jesuit Father, Padre Carlo Gregorio Rosignoli, printed at Bologna in 1696. He says it was written originally by Theophilus Raynaudus.</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Tears of Repentance</span></p> + <p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">PART FIRST</em></p> + <p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MOUNTAIN</span></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A wild, sad story I tell to-day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And I pray you to listen all!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>You cannot think how my heart is moved</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the legend I recall,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The legend that made me weep so oft,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When I was a child like you!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I tell it now, in my life's decline,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And it brings the tears anew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>It came to us down through ages long;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For this story had its scene</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the far-away, gorgeous, stormy days</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the empire Byzantine.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And it tells of a famous mountain chief,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A terrible, fierce brigand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who ravaged the country, far and wide,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At the head of an armèd band.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So hard of heart was this evil man</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That he spared not young nor old:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He killed and plundered, and burned and spoiled,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his maddening thirst for gold;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would come with a swoop on a merchant troop,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That peacefully went its way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the counted gains of a journey long</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were scattered in one short day!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He knew no pity, he owned no law,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor human, nor yet divine;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would take the gold from a Prince's chest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or the lamp from a wayside shrine.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In hidden valley, in wild ravine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On desolate, heath-grown hill,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He buried his treasure away from sight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And most of it lies there still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And none were free in that land to dwell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Except they a tribute paid;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the robber chief, who was more than king,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had this burden on them laid.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>If any dared to resist the claim,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was met with vengeance dire;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His lands were wasted before the dawn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his harvest burned with fire.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some day maybe himself was slain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And left in the road to lie;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To fill with terror the quaking heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the next who journeyed by.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And many fled to the towns afar,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their fields were left untilled;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While want and trouble and trembling fear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had the stricken country filled.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>High up on a mountain's pathless side</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had the robber made his den,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In a rocky cave, where he reigned supreme</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Over twenty lawless men.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A price had long on his head been set,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But for that he little cared;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For few were they who could climb the way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And fewer were those who dared.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For those who hunted him long before</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had a fearful story brought:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They were not men on the mountain side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But demons who with them fought!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For horrible forms arose, they said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As if from the earth they grew;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And rolled down rocks from the cliffs above</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On any who might pursue.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>From town to town and from land to land,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had his evil fame been spread;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And voices lowered and lips grew grave</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the hated name they said.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The people's heart had grown faint with fear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they thought no hope remained;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But hope again on their vision dawned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the Emperor's ear they gained.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Mauritius reigned o'er the nations then;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was great in warlike fame,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he was not one to shrink or quake</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At a mountain bandit's name.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He sent a band of a hundred strong</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the troubled land's release,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To kill the man and his bloody crew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And to give the country peace.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For what was a robber chief to him?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had conquered mighty kings;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He gave the order, and then 't was done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he thought of other things.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But few, alas, of that troop returned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they told a ghostly tale;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And women wept, and the strongest men,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As they heard, grew mute and pale.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Those soldiers oft in the war had been,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they counted danger light;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From mortal foe had they never turned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But with demons who could fight?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The Emperor silent was and grave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his thoughts were deep and wise;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He saw that the robber chief was one</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whom he could not well despise.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There might be reason in what they said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the demons gave him aid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And earthly weapon would ne'er be found</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That could make such foes afraid.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But yet they will flee from sacred things,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the martyred saints, he knew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Have holy virtue, that to them clings,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That can all their spells undo.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But how could such weapon reach the soul</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That for years had owned their sway?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A question grave that he pondered long;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But at length he found a way.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A reliquary he made prepare;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was all of finest gold:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For as monarch might with monarch treat,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He would serve this bandit bold.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The gold was his, but the work he gave</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the skilled and patient hand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of an artist monk, who counted then</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the first in all the land.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Now see him close to his labour bent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In a cell remote and high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where all he saw of the world without</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was a square of roof and sky.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A holy man was this artist monk,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And for gain he did not ask,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If only the Lord his work would bless,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his heart was in the task.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And day by day from his touch came forth</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The image of holy things;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The cross was there, and the clustered vine,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the dove with outspread wings,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The dove that bore in her golden beak</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The olive in sign of peace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And still, as he wrought, his hand kept time</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the prayer that would not cease!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For pity stirred in him when he thought</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of that dark and stormy breast,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So hard, so hopeless, from God so far,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the little shrine would rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And perhaps if angels were looking on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>(And I doubt not some were there!)</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They saw that the work was sown with pearls,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And each pearl a burning prayer.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So weeks went on, and the shrine was done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And within it, sealed and closed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were holy relics of martyred saints</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who near in the church reposed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And trusted messengers bore it forth</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the distant mountain land;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With such a weapon they need not fear;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They could meet the famed brigand.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was winter now on the mountain-side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the way was long and hard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the faithful envoys upward toiled</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In their bandit escort's guard,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Toiled up to a grove of ancient firs,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For that was the place designed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where, after parley and long delay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had the meeting been combined.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>No sound but their feet that crushed the snow,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the world looked sad and dead;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They thought of lives on the mountain lost,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And it was not much they said.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The sun, as it shone with slanting ray</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the stripped and silent trees,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could melt but little the clinging ice</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Which to-night again would freeze.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They reached the grove, and the chief was there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like a king in savage state;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Erect and fearless, above them all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While his men around him wait.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He stood before them like what he was,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A terrible beast of prey;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But even tigers have something grand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he looked as grand as they.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But, oh, the look that he on them turned!</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was fearful to behold;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It chilled their hearts, but they did not shrink,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For their faith had made them bold.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And looking straight in those gloomy eyes,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With their hard and cruel glare,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"We come," said one, "in the Emperor's name,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And from him a token bear."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then said the chief, with a mocking smile,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And what may my Lord command?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And made a sign with his evil eye,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the men on guard to stand.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>No faith had he in a tale so wild,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he somewhat feared a snare;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There might be others in hiding near,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he did not greatly care.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then forth came he who the relics bore,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a prudent man and brave,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And into the hand that all men feared,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He the holy token gave.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"This gift to you has the Emperor sent,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In token of his good will,"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He said; and at first the fierce brigand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Stood in wonder, hushed and still.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>What felt he then as that holy thing</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his guilty hand he took?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What changed his face for a moment's time</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To an almost human look?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>There lay the shrine in his open palm.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet he thought it could not be:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"For me?" he asked, but his voice was strange.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And again he said, "for me?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Three times the messenger told his tale,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he said 't was all he knew;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The bandit looked at the wondrous work,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he could not doubt 't was true.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So over his neck the chain he hung,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The shrine on his bosom lay</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With all its wealth of a thousand prayers;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they were not cast away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Day followed day in the bandit's cave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And a restless man was he;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A heart so hard and so proud as his</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With the saints could ill agree.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The holy relics that on it lay</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did a strange confusion make;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In all that most he had loved before,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could no more pleasure take.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A charm there was in the golden shrine</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That had all his soul possessed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He sat and looked at each sacred sign</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a dreamy sense of rest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was not the gold that could soothe him thus,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And 't was not the work so fine:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was the holy soul of the artist monk,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For it lived in every line.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like one who sleeps when the day begins,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And, before his slumbers end,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The morning light and the morning sounds</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his dreaming fancies blend;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So now and then would his heart be stirred</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By a feeling strange and new,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And thoughts he never had known before</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his mind unconscious grew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till on a sudden his blinding pride,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like a bubble, failed and broke;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With eyes wide open, the guilty man</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From his life-long dream awoke.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>From graves forgotten his crimes came forth,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his face they seemed to stare:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To all one day will such waking come;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>God grant it be here, not there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then wild remorse on his heart took hold,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And beneath its burning sting</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He shrank from himself as one might shrink</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From a venomous, hateful thing.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For scenes of blood from the years gone by</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Forever before him came;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He closed his eyes, and his face he hid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he saw them just the same.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in the horror he dared not pray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he felt his soul accurst,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he feared to live, and he feared to die,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he knew not which was worst.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet far on high, and beyond his reach,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could see a vision dim,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A far-off glory of peace and love;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he felt 't was not for him.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Awhile his trouble he hid from all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his will was iron strong,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But never was man, since man was made,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who could bear such torment long,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A strange, sick longing was growing up</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his spirit, day by day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A longing for what he most had feared,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To let justice have her way;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Until the will to a purpose grew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the Emperor's feet to fly,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To own his sin without prayer or plea,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then give up all and die.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And so one night, without sound or word,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Away in the dark he stole,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And all that he took for his journey long</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was the weight of a burdened soul.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They waited long in that den of crime,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But they saw their chief no more;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or dead or living, they found him not,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though they searched the mountain o'er.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And in the country, so long oppressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When his sudden flight was known,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They spoke of a wild and fearful night,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When the fiends had claimed their own.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And soon the tale to a legend turned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And men trembling used to tell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of how they carried him, body and soul,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the place where demons dwell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>His men, so bold, were in mortal fear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of what might themselves befall;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So some in a convent refuge sought,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the rest were scattered all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And no one climbed to their empty cave,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For 't was called a haunted place,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though soon the summer had swept away</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of its horror every trace,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And mountain strawberries nestled low,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And delicate harebells hung,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In beauty meek, from its broken arch,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the swallows reared their young.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But where had he gone, that man of woe?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had he found the rest he sought?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In haste he went, but with noiseless tread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As his bandit life had taught.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And going downward he met the spring,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With its mingled sun and showers;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But storms of winter he bore within,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he did not see the flowers.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And how did he live from day to day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the ceaseless strain endure?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Kind hearts there are that can feel for all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the poor will help the poor.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In frightened pity, a shepherd girl,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As she fled o'er the daisied grass,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would let the bread from her apron fall</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the turf where he should pass;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or workmen, eating their noonday meal</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On a bank beside the way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Would give him food, but with outstretched arm,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they asked him not to stay.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He went like a shadow taken shape</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From some vague and awful dream,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And word of comfort for him was none,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In his misery so extreme.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Alas, from himself he could not flee,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though he tried, poor haunted man;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he reached the city beside the sea,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the Holy Week began.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"></div> + <p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">PART SECOND</em></p> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"></div><!-- --> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was Sunday morn, and a hundred bells</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With their sweet and saintly sound</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were calling the people in to prayer</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the pleasant hills around,—</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The morn when strivings should end in peace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And each wrong forgotten be,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That Holy Week may its blessing shed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Upon souls from discord free.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The streets were bright with a moving throng,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And before the palace gate,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With eager eyes and in garments gay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did a crowd expectant wait.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the Emperor goes in solemn state,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With his court, like all the rest,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To the church with many lamps ablaze,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where to-day the palms are blest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And stately ladies and timid girls,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In their modest plain attire,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From curtained windows are looking down,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the shifting scene admire.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They come, they come, from the cool deep shade</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the courtyard's marble arch,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The nobles all in their rich array,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the guards with sounding march.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And stay, the square is as still as death,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the Emperor passes now;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The girls at the window hold their breath,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the people bend and bow.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But who is this that among them moves</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With that quick and stately pace?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>What see they all in his rigid look,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That they shrink and give him place?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Too late the guards would have barred the way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he darted swiftly by,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As hunted creatures, when hard beset,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To man in their terror fly.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And sinking low at the feet of him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had come so far to see,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He waited silent with folded hands,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Nor asked what his fate should be.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Who are you, come in such deep distress,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And what is the grace you seek?"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The Emperor's voice was grave and kind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the stranger tried to speak.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The golden casket he raised in sight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he bent his eyes for shame;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then said he, "I am that wicked man,"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he told the dreaded name.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A shudder fell upon all who heard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the people nearer drew;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From mouth to mouth, in a whisper low,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The name of the bandit flew.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>While he, uplifting those woful eyes,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the boldness of despair,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With ne'er a thought of the crowd who heard,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His errand did thus declare:</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"I come not here to confess my sins,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For you know them all too well;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>My crimes are many and black and great,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They are more than tongue can tell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But here at your feet my life I lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>I have nothing else to give;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So now, if it please you, speak the word,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For I am not fit to live."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The words came straight from his broken heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In such sad and simple style,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the Emperor's firm, proud lips were moved</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To a somewhat softened smile.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his warlike spirit felt the charm</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of that savage strength and grace,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the strange fierce beauty that lingered still</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the dark and troubled face.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>So grand of form and so lithe of limb,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And still in his manhood's prime,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T would be a pity for one like him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To perish before his time.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And 't was well to see him kneeling there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whose terror had filled the land,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like a captive tiger, caught and tamed</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>By his own imperial hand.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Arise," he said, "you have nought to fear,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Take comfort and go your way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And may God in heaven my sins forgive,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As I pardon yours to-day."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A murmur rose from the crowded square,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>At the sound of words like these;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For some rejoiced in the mercy shown,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And others it did not please.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Some thanked the Lord for the pardoned man,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some were to scorn inclined;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And motherly women wiped their eyes,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the women's hearts are kind.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"God bless our Emperor," many said;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But others began to frown.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And asked, "Will he turn this wild brigand</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Adrift in our peaceful town?"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>No word of thanks did the bandit say,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he raised one shining fold</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the robe imperial, trailing low</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With its weight of gems and gold.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The border first to his lips he pressed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then to his heavy heart;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then rose and waited with bended head,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till he saw them all depart.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>No eye had he for the gorgeous train,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As along the square it passed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>One stately presence was all he knew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he watched it till the last.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A heavy sigh, and he turned away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But with slow and weary tread;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No rest as yet on the earth for him,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Not even among the dead.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He lived, and he bore his burden still,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the dumb despair had ceased:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That word of mercy had brought a change,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he now had tears, at least;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He now could pray, though it brought not light,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he seemed to ask in vain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his prayer had more of tears than words,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But it helped him bear the pain.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And oft in church did they see him kneel</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In some corner all alone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And weep till the great hot drops would fall</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the floor of varied stone.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And children clung to their mothers' hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When they saw that vision wild,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That haggard face, and that wasting form,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And those lips that never smiled.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But grief was wearing his life away,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And for him perhaps 't was well;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was not long on the city street</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That his saddening shadow fell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A fever slowly within him burned,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till the springs of life were dry,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And glad he was when they laid him down</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On a hospital bed to die.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>His heart was broken, his strength was gone,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had no more wish to live;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He almost hoped that the Lord on high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Like the Emperor, might forgive;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>That somewhere down in the peaceful earth</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He should find a refuge yet,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>A place to rest and his eyes to close,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the woful past forget.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could not lie where the others lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For such gloom around him spread,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That soon in a chamber far away</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Had they set his friendless bed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was there he suffered and wept and prayed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the eyes of all concealed:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Alas! but it takes a weary time</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For a life like his to yield.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The grand old hospital where he died</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was beneath the watchful care</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of a certain doctor, famed afar</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his skill and learning rare.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But more than learning and more than skill</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was his heart, so large and kind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That knew the trouble and felt the needs</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of the sick who near him pined.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>With conscience pure had he served the Lord</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From youth till his hair was grey,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Yet only pity he felt, not scorn,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the many feet that stray.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>In troubled scenes had his life been passed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He was used to woe and sin,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And when men suffered he did not ask</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>If their lives had blameless been.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>His part was but to relieve their pain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he helped and soothed and cheered;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But most he cared for the stricken man</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whom the others shunned and feared.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Each art to save him he tried in vain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And it could but useless prove,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For the poisoned thorn that pierced his heart</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Could no earthly hand remove,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>When hope had failed, he would kneel and pray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And his heart with tears outpour,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That God in mercy would comfort send</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To that soul in torment sore.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And though the burden he might not lift,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He could help its weight to bear;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He talked of mercy, of peace to come,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he bade him not despair.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And so, on the last sad night of all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was the brave, good doctor came</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To watch alone by the bandit's side,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When he died of grief and shame.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The spring to summer was wearing on,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was the fairest night in May,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When sleep to those eyes in mercy came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the deadly strain gave way.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>No candle burned, for the moon was full,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the peaceful splendour fell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Through the open window, lighting all:</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It was like a kind farewell.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And scents from the garden floated in,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the silent fireflies came,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And breathed and vanished, and breathed again,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With their soft mysterious flame.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The doctor watched with a heavy heart,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>His head on his hand was bowed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He thought how many his prayers had been,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But they could not lift the cloud.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was over now, there was nothing left</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For his pitying love to do;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The worn-out body would rest at last,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the guilty soul,—who knew?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>No more to do but to watch and wait</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till the failing breath should cease;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He longed, as the counted minutes flew,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For one parting smile of peace.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He looked: a handkerchief veiled the eyes,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For they wept until the end,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And sadly still on the wasted cheek</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did a few slow drops descend.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The peace that oft to the dying comes</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Was to him as yet denied,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No sunset clear after stormy day,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And no brightening ere he died.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Alas! he will go away to-night,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And without one hopeful sign,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Away from pity, away from care,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And from such poor help as mine!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The doctor sighed, but he hoped as well,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For he said, "It cannot be</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the Lord, who died for all, will have</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>No mercy for such as he."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was then that sleep on the doctor fell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And before him stood revealed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In dreaming vision, a wondrous sight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From his waking eyes concealed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>For other watchers were in the room,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he knew the ghastly throng</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of demon spirits, the very same</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Whom the man had served so long.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And two were leaning across the bed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And another pressed behind,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And some in the shadow waiting stood,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a chain his soul to bind.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But angels watched by the bedside too;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a strange and solemn scene,—</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angels here and the demons there,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the dying man between.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angels looked with a troubled gaze</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the face consumed with grief,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And over the pillow bent and swayed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As in haste to bring relief.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And one on the bowed and burdened head</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did a hand in blessing lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he said, "Poor soul, come home with us.</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where the tears are wiped away."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Not so," cried one of the demon troop,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"He is black with every sin;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And you may not touch our lawful prey</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That we laboured years to win.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"We bought his soul, and the price we paid,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And our part has well been done;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We helped him ever from crime to crime,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till his buried wealth was won;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And we almost thought him one of us,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He had so well learned our ways;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So go, for we do but seek our own,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And be done with these delays."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angel said, "He has wept his sin,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As none ever wept before,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Has mourned till his very life gave way,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And what could a man do more?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"And our Blessèd Lord, who pities all,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the sins of all has borne,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Will never His mercy turn away</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From a heart so bruised and torn."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"But how? and shall mercy be for him</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who has mercy never shown?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Can his sorrow bring the dead to life,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Or can tears for blood atone?</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Is he to rest with the angels now,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Has he done with tears and pain?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To-morrow morn he will wish he lay</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On the hospital bed again;</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"There is somewhat more to weep for down</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the place where he must stay!"</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The demon looked at his fiendish mates;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he laughed, and so did they.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And they gathered close, like hungry wolves,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In their haste to rend and tear;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But they could not touch the helpless head</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>While that strong white hand was there.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then out of the shadow one came forth,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was a demon great and tall;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>An iron balance he held on high,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As he stood before them all.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And fiercely he to the angels called,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Do you dare to claim him still?</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then come, for the scales are in my hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>We will weigh the good and ill."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And into the nearest scale he threw,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As he spoke, a parchment roll,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With on it a note of every sin</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That had stained the parting soul.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>'T was closely written, without, within,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the balance downward flew</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And struck the ground with a blow, as though</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It would break the pavement through.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"He is ours forever," the demons said,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>"If justice the world controls;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>For sins so heavy do on him lie,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They would sink a hundred souls!</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>"Come, hasten, angels, the time is short,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And words are of no avail;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Come, bring the note of your friend's good deeds,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>To lay in the empty scale."</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angels searched, but they searched in vain,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There was no good deed to bring;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In all that ever that hand had done,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They could find no worthy thing.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>A taunting shout from the demons broke,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And each hard malignant face</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With joy and triumph was all aflame;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But the angels held their place,</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though dimness fell like a passing cloud</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>On their pure and holy light;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And if ever angel eyes have tears,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>There were some in theirs that night.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But he who had been the first to speak,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a glimmering hope possessed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Still sought some good that would turn the scale,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Though it seemed a useless quest.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He saw the handkerchief where it lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he raised it off the bed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>All wet and clinging, and steeped in tears</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the dying eyes had shed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He turned around, but his face was pale,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the last poor chance he tried;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He laid it down in the empty scale,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he said, "Let God decide!"</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>When, lo! it fell till it touched the earth,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the demons stood dismayed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>It seemed so little and light a thing,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But it all his sins outweighed.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>But who shall ever the anger tell</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of that black and hateful band,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>When most in triumph they felt secure,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The prey had escaped their hand.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>They stood one moment in speechless rage,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And then, with a fearful sound</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of shrieks and curses and rattling chains,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They vanished beneath the ground.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then holy peace on the chamber fell,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Till it flooded all the air;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>The angels praised and they thanked the Lord,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Who so late had heard their prayer.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And their clouded glory shone again,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>With a clear celestial ray,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>As the trembling soul, which that moment passed,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>They bore in their arms away.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then through the room, as they took their flight,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Did a flood of music stream,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>So loud, so sweet, and so close at hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That it waked him from his dream.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>He looked around; there was nothing stirred</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>In the empty, moonlit room,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Where a faint, sweet odour filled the air</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the orange-trees in bloom.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>And the notes divine he had thought to hear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Were only the liquid flow</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>Of a nightingale's song, that came up clear</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the garden just below.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>Then up from his seat the doctor rose,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he stood beside the bed;</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>He knew, when he touched the quiet hand,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>That the poor brigand was dead.</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <span>The handkerchief on the pillow lay,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>But its weary use was o'er,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>And he raised it, heavy and wet with tears,</span> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <span>From the eyes that could weep no more.</span> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + <div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"></div><!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> + <div class="backmatter"></div> + <div class="cleardoublepage"></div> + </div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 47962 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/47962-h/47962-h.html b/47962-h/47962-h.html deleted file mode 100644 index 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} - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES</title> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Francesca Alexander" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="47962" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-01-12" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1900" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.title" content="The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.source" content="/home/ajhaines/servants/servants.rst" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.language" content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.modified" content="2015-01-13T07:18:04.556769+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.rights" content="Public Domain in the USA." /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47962" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.creator" content="Francesca Alexander" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.created" content="2015-01-12" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-hidden-servants-and-other-very-old-stories"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories -<br /> -<br />Author: Francesca Alexander -<br /> -<br />Release Date: January 12, 2015 [EBook #47962] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 85%" id="figure-21"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by the author" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by the author</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 54%" id="figure-22"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Title page" src="images/img-title.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Title page</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE HIDDEN -<br />SERVANTS</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics x-large">and</em><span class="x-large"> OTHER VERY OLD STORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">Told Over Again By</em><span class="medium"> -<br />FRANCESCA ALEXANDER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF IDA," -<br />"ROADSIDE SONGS OF TUSCANY," Etc.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">LONDON</em><span class="medium"> * Published by DAVID NUTT -<br />at the Sign of the Phoenix, Long Acre * </span><em class="italics medium">1907</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1900, -<br />By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">All Rights Reserved</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">University Press * John Wilson -<br />and Son * Cambridge, U.S.A.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="introduction"><span class="bold large">Introduction</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>To those who are fortunate enough to know -Miss Alexander's pen and pencil pictures of -Italian peasant life the very name of Francesca, -over which her early work was published, -carries with it an aroma as of those humbler graces -of her adopted people,—their sunny charity, -their native sense of the beautiful, their childlike -faith,—which touch the heart more intimately -than all their great achievements in History and -in Art. For those, however, to whom are yet -unknown her faithful transcripts in picture and -story from the lives of the people she loves, a -word of introduction has been asked; and it was -perhaps thought that the task might properly be -entrusted to one who had heard </span><em class="italics">The Hidden -Servants</em><span> and many another of these poems -from the lips of Francesca herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, rightly considered, could any experience -have better served to banish from the mind such -irrelevant intruders as facts,—those literal facts -and data at least which the uninitiated might be -so mistaken as to desire, but which none who -knew Francesca's work could regard as of the -slightest consequence?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Imagine a quiet, green-latticed room in Venice -overlooking the Grand Canal whose waters -keep time in gently audible lappings to the lilt -of the verse,—that lilt that is apparent even in -the printed line, but which only a voice trained -to Italian cadences can perfectly give. Imagine -that voice half chanting, half reciting, these old, -old legends, and with an absolute sincerity of -conviction which stirs the mind of the listeners, -mere children of to-day though they be, to a -faith akin to that which conceived the tales. -Where is there place for facts in such a scene, -in such an experience? Or, if facts must be, -are not all that are requisite easily to be gleaned -from the poems themselves? Why state that -Francesca is the daughter of an American artist, -or that she has spent her life in Italy, when the -artist inheritance, the Italian atmosphere, breathes -in every poem our little book contains? Why -make mention even of Ruskin's enthusiastic -heralding of her work, when the very spirit of -it is so essentially that which the great idealist -was seeking all his life that he could scarcely -have failed to discover and applaud it had it been -ever so retiring, ever so hidden? Nor does it -matter that the Alexander home chances to be in -Florence rather than in Venice, since it is Italy -itself that lives in Francesca's work; nor that -she is Protestant rather than Catholic, when it -is religion pure and simple, unrestricted by any -creed, that makes vital each line she writes or -draws.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet of the poems, if not of the writer, there -remained still something to learn, and accordingly -a letter of inquiry was sent her; and her -own reply, written with no thought of publication, -is a better report than another could give. -This is what she says:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With regard to this present collection of -ballads, I can tell its history in a few words. -When I was a young girl many old and curious -books fell into my hands and became my favourite -reading (next to the Bible, and, perhaps, the -</span><em class="italics">Divina Commedia</em><span>), as I found in them the -strong faith and simple modes of thought which -were what I liked and wanted. Afterwards, in -my constant intercourse with the country people, -and especially with old people whom I always -loved, I heard a great many legends and -traditions, often beautiful, often instructive, and -which, as far as I knew, had never been written -down. I was always in request with children -for the stories which I knew and could tell, and, -as I found they liked these legends, I thought it -a pity they should be lost after I should have -passed away, and so I always meant to write -them down; all the more that I had felt the -need of such reading when I was a child myself. -But I never had time to write them as long as -my eyes permitted me to work at my drawing, -and afterwards, when I wanted to begin them, -I found myself unable to write at all for more -than a few minutes at once. Finally I thought -of turning the stories into rhyme and learning -them all by heart, so that I could write them -down little by little. I thought children would -not be very particular, if I could just make the -dear old stories vivid and comprehensible, which -I tried to do. If, as you kindly hope, they may -be good for older people as well, then it must be -that when the Lord took from me one faculty -He gave me another; which is in no way -impossible. And I think of the beautiful Italian -proverb: 'When God shuts a door He opens a -window.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After such an account of the origin and -growth of these poems no further comment -would seem fitting, unless it be that made by -Cardinal Manning when writing to Mr. Ruskin -in 1883 to thank him for a copy of Francesca's -</span><em class="italics">Story of Ida</em><span>. He writes:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is simply beautiful, like the </span><em class="italics">Fioretti di San -Francesco</em><span>. Such flowers can grow in one soil -alone. They can be found only in the Garden -of Faith, over which the world of light hangs -visibly, and is more intensely seen by the poor -and the pure in heart than by the rich, or the -learned, or the men of culture."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>ANNA FULLER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="preface"><span class="bold large">Preface</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold">THE OLD STORY-TELLER</span></p> -<div class="align-None container"> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In my upper chamber here,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Still I wait from year to year;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Wondering when the time will come</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That the Lord will call me home.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All the rest have been removed,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Those I worked for, those I loved;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And, at times, there seems to be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Little use on earth for me.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Still God keeps me—He knows why—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">When so many younger die!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From my window I look down</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">On the busy, bustling town.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But beyond its noise and jar</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I can see the hills afar;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And above it, the blue sky,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the white clouds sailing by;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the sunbeams, as they shine</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">On a world that is not mine.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Here I wait, while life shall last,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">An old relic of the past,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Feeling strange, and far away</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From the people of to-day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Thankful for the memory dear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Of a morning, always near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Though long vanished, and so fair!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dewy flowers and April air;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Thankful that the storms of noon</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Spent their force and died so soon;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Thankful, as their echoes cease,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For this twilight hour of peace.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But my life, to evening grown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Still has pleasures of its own.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Up my stairway, long and steep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Now and then the children creep;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Gather round me, where I sit</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All day long, and dream, and knit;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Fill my room with happy noise—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">May God bless them, girls and boys!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Then sweet eyes upon me shine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Dimpled hands are laid in mine;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And I never ask them why</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">They have sought to climb so high;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For 'twere useless to enquire!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Tis a story they desire,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Taken from my ancient store,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">None the worse if heard before;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And they turn, with pleading looks,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To my shelf of time-worn books,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Bound in parchment brown with age.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Little in them to engage</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Children's fancy, one would say!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Yet, when tired with noisy play,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Nothing pleases them so well</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">As the stories I can tell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From those pages, old and gray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">With their edges worn away;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Spelling queer, and Woodcut quaint.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Angel, demon, prince, and saint,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Much alike in face and air;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Houses tipping here and there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lion, palm-tree, hermit's cell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And much more I need not tell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Then they all attentive wait,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">While the story I relate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And, before the half is told,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I forget that I am old!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But one age there seems to be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For the little ones and me.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">What though all be new and strange,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Little children never change;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All is shifting day by day,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Worse or better, who can say?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Much we lose, and much we learn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But the children still return,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">As the flowers do, every year;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Just as innocent and dear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">As those babes who first did meet</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">At our Heavenly Master's feet.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In His arms He took them all:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Oh, 'tis precious to recall—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Blessèd to believe it true—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That what we love He loved too!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Since the time when life was new,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All my long, long journey through,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I have story-teller been.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">When a child I did begin</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To my playmates; later on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Other children, long since gone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Came to listen; and of some,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Still the children's children come!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Some, the dearest, took their flight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the early morning light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To the glory far away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Made for them and such as they.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I have lingered till the last;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All the busy hours are past;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Now my sun is in the west,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Slowly sinking down to rest</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ere it wholly fades from view,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">One thing only I would do:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From my stories I would choose</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Those 't would grieve me most to lose.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And would tell them once again</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For the children who remain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And for others, yet to be,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Whom on earth I may not see.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Here, within this volume small,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I have thought to write them all;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And to-day the work commence,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Trusting, ere God call me hence,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I may see the whole complete.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">It will be a labour sweet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Calling back, in sunset glow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Happy hours of long ago.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#introduction">Introduction</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#preface">Preface</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hidden-servants">The Hidden Servants</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-bag-of-sand">The Bag of Sand</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#il-crocifisso-della-providenza">Il Crocifisso della Providenza</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#angels-in-the-churchyard">Angels in the Churchyard</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-origin-of-the-indian-corn">The Origin of the Indian Corn</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-eldest-daughter-of-the-king">The Eldest Daughter of the King</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#bishop-troilus">Bishop Troilus</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-crosses-on-the-wall">The Crosses on the Wall</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#suora-marianna">Suora Marianna</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lupins">The Lupins</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-silver-cross">The Silver Cross</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-tears-of-repentance">The Tears of Repentance</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hidden-servants"><span class="bold x-large">The Hidden Servants -<br /></span><em class="bold italics x-large">AND OTHER POEMS</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">THE HIDDEN SERVANTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A sheltered nook on a mountain side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shut in, and guarded, and fortified</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By rocks that hardly a goat would climb,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All smoothed by tempest and bleached by time—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Such was the spot that the hermit chose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From youth to age, for his life's repose.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There had he lived for forty years,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Trying, with penance and prayers and tears,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To make his soul like a polished stone</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In God's great temple; for this alone</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was the one dear wish that his soul possessed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 't was little he cared for all the rest,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Nothing had changed since first he came;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sky and the mountain were all the same,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only a beech-tree, that there had grown</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ere ever he builded his cell of stone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had risen and spread to a stately grace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And its shifting shadow filled half the place.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Many a winter its storms had spent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Many a summer its sunshine lent</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the little cell, till it came to look</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like another rock in the peaceful nook.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Mosses and lichen had veiled the wall,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till it hardly seemed like a dwelling at all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a peaceful home when the days were soft,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And spring in her sweetness crept aloft</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the plains below where her work was done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the hills grew green in the warming sun.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in summer the cell of the hermit seemed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like part of that heaven of which he dreamed:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the turf behind those walls of flint</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was sprinkled with flowers of rainbow tint;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And never a sound but the bees' low hum,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As over the blossoms they go and come;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or—when one listened—the fainter tones</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of a spring that bubbled between the stones.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But dreary it was on a winter's night,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the snow fell heavy and soft and white.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And at times, when the morn was cold and keen,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The footprints of wolves at his door were seen.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But cold or hunger he hardly felt,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So near to heaven the good man dwelt;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And as for danger—why, death, to him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Meant only joining the Seraphim!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Poorly he lived, and hardly fared;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when the acorns and roots he shared</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With mole or squirrel, he asked no more,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But thanked the Lord for such welcome store.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The richest feast he could ever know</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was when the shepherds who dwelt below,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose sheep in the mountain pastures fed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would bring him cheeses, or barley bread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or—after harvest—a bag of meal;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then they would all before him kneel,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On flowery turf or on moss-grown rocks,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To ask a blessing for them and their flocks,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And once or twice he had wandered out</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To preach in the country round about,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where unto many his words were blest;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then back he climbed to his quiet nest.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By all in trouble his aid was sought;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And women their pining children brought,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For a touch of his hand to ease their pain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his prayers to make them strong again.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And now one wish in his heart remained:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He longed to know what his soul had gained,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And how he had grown in the Master's grace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Since first he came to that lonely place.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>This wish was haunting him night and day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He never could drive the thought away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Until at length in the beech-tree's shade</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He knelt, and with all his soul he prayed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That God would grant him to know and see</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A man, if such in the world might be,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the self-same measure as his own;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose treasure on the celestial shore</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could neither be less than his nor more.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He prayed with faith, and his prayer was heard;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He hardly came to the closing word</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Before he felt there was some one there!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He looked, and saw in the sun-lit air</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An angel, floating on wings of white;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor did he wonder at such a sight:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For angels often had come to cheer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His soul, and he thought them always near.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Happy and humble, he bowed his head,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And listened, while thus the angel said:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Go to the nearest town, and there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To-morrow, will be in the market square</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A mountebank, playing his tricks for show:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He is the man thou hast prayed to know;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His soul, as seen by the light divine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is neither better nor worse than thine.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His treasure on the celestial shore</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is neither less than thine own nor more."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Next day, in the dim and early morn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By a slippery path that the sheep had worn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit went from his loved abode</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the farms below, and the beaten road.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The reapers, out in the field that day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who saw him passing, did often say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What a mournful look the old man had!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his very voice was changed and sad.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Troubled he was, and much perplexed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With endless doubting his mind was vexed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What—He? A mountebank? Both the same?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What could it mean to his soul but shame?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had his forty years been vainly spent?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then, alas! as he onward went,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There came an evil and bitter thought,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had he been serving the Lord for nought?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But in his fear he began to pray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the black temptation passed away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Perhaps the mountebank yet might prove</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To have a soul in the Master's love.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He almost felt that it must be so,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In spite of a life that seemed so low.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Perhaps he was forced such life to take,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It might be, even for conscience' sake;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some cruel master the order gave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Perhaps, for scorn of a pious slave.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or, stay—there were saints in ancient days,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who had such terror of human praise</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That, but to gain the contempt they prized,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They did such things as are most despised;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Feigned even madness; and more than one,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Accused of sins he had never done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had willingly borne disgrace and blame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor said a word for his own good name!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In thoughts like these had the day gone by;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sun was now in the western sky:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The road, grown level and hot and wide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With dusty hedges on either side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had led him close to the city gate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where he must enter to learn his fate.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now fear did over his hope prevail:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He almost wished in his search to fail,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And find no mountebank there at all!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For then his vision he well might call</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A dream that came of its own accord,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Instead of a message from the Lord!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A few more minutes, and then he knew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That all which the angel said was true!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A mountebank, in the market square,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was making the people laugh and stare.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With antics more befitting an ape</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than any creature in human shape!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit took his place with the rest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not heeding the crowd that round him pressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And earnestly set his eyes to scan</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The face of the poor, unsaintly man.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Alas, there was little written there</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of inward peace or of answered prayer!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For all the paint, and the droll grimace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a haggard, anxious, weary face.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The mountebank saw, with vague surprise,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The patient, sorrowful, searching eyes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose look, so solemn, and kindly too,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Seemed piercing all his disguises through.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They made him restless, he knew not why:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He could not play; it was vain to try!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His face grew sober, his movements slow;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, soon as might be, he closed the show.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He saw that the hermit lingered on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When all the rest of the crowd were gone.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then over his gaudy clothes he drew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A ragged mantle of faded hue;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he himself was the first to speak:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Good Father, is it for me you seek?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"My son, I have sought you all the day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would you come with me a little way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Into some quiet corner near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where no one our words can overhear?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Not far away, in a lonely street,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By a garden wall they found a seat.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It now was late, and the sun had set,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though a golden glory lingered yet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the moon looked pale in it overhead.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They sat them down, and the hermit said:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"My son, to me was a vision sent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And as yet I know not what it meant;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But I think that you, and you alone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are able to make its meaning known.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Answer me then—I have great need—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And tell me, what is the life you lead?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"My life's a poor one, you may suppose!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I 've many troubles that no one knows;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For I have to keep a smiling face.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I wander, friendless, from place to place,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Risking my neck for a scanty gain;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But I must do it, and not complain.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I know, whatever may go amiss,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That I have deserved much worse than this."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>To the hermit this a meaning bore</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of deep humility, nothing more.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So, gaining courage, "But this," he said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Is not the life you have always led.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So much the vision to me revealed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I know there 's something you keep concealed."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The mountebank answered sadly: "Yes!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T is true: you ask, and I must confess.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But keep my secret, good Father, pray;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or my life will not be safe for a day!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Alas, I have led a life of crime!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I 've been an evil man in my time.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I was a robber—I think you know—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till little more than a year ago;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One of a desperate, murderous band,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A curse and terror to all the land!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit's head sank down on his breast;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His trembling hands to his eyes he pressed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Has God rejected me?" then he moaned:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Are all my service and love disowned?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The other, seeing the old man grieved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Said: "Father, why do you care so much</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For one not worthy your robe to touch?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The Lord is gracious, and if He will,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He can forgive and save me still.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And as for my wicked life, 't is I,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit made him a sign to cease;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then raised his head, and began to speak,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"If you could remember even one</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Good deed that you in your life have done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I need not go in despair away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Think well; and if you can find one, say!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Once," said the mountebank, "that was all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I did for the Lord a service small,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And never yet have I told the tale!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But if you wish it, I will not fail.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A few of our men had gone one day—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was less for plunder, I think, than play—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To a certain convent, small and poor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where a dozen sisters lived secure</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For very poverty! dreaming not</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That any envied their humble lot.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There, finding the door was locked and barred,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They climbed the wall of a grass-grown yard.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some vines were planted along its side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their trailing branches left room to hide;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where, neither by pity moved nor shame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They crouched, till one of the sisters came</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To gather herbs for the noonday meal;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then out from under the leaves they steal!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So she was taken, poor soul, and bound,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And carried off to our camping ground.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A harmless creature, who knew no more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the world outside her convent door,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than you or I of the moon up there!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A shame, to take her in such a snare!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But, Father, I wished that I had been</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ten miles away, when they brought her in,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To hold for ransom; or if that failed—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, well, we knew when the pirates sailed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We knew their captain, who paid us well,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And carried our prisoners off to sell.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They never beheld their country more,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Being bought for slaves on a foreign shore.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But oh! 't was enough the tears to bring,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To see that innocent, frightened thing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Looking, half hopeful, from face to face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As if she thought, in that wicked place,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There might be one who would take her part!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She looked at me, and it stung my heart.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But I, with a hard, disdainful air,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Turned from her as one who did not care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I heard her sighing: she did not know</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That her gentle look had hurt me so!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"That night they set me the watch to keep;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when the others were all asleep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I had been moving to and fro,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With branches keeping the fire aglow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I crept along to the woman's side,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She sat apart, and her arms were tied,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And said,—'t was only a whispered word;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We both were lost if the others heard,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'If you will trust me and with me come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I 'll bring you safe to your convent home.'</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She started, into my face she gazed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Said she, 'I'll trust you—the Lord be praised!'</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I very quickly the cords unbound.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She rose; I led her without a sound</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Between the rows of the sleeping men,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till we left the camp behind; and then</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I found my horse, that was tied near by.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The woman mounted, and she and I</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Set off in haste, through the midnight shade,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the wildest journey I ever made!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By wood and thicket the horse I led,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And over a torrent's stony bed,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For along the road I dared not go,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For fear that the others our flight should know,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And follow after; the woman prayed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I, quick and cautious, but not afraid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Went first, with the stars for guide, until</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We saw the convent, high on a hill.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We reached the door as the east grew red.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'God will remember!' was all she said;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her face was full of a sweet content.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She knocked, they opened, and in she went.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The door was closed—she was safe at last!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I heard the bolt as they made it fast—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I in the twilight stood alone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the lightest heart I had ever known!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"So, Father, my robber days were o'er;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I could not be what I was before.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I wandered on with a thankful mind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For I left the old bad life behind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And tried, as I journeyed day by day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To gain my bread in an honest way.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But little work could I find to do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And so, as some juggling tricks I knew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I took this business which now you see:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T is good enough for a man like me!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>While yet the story was going on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The cloud from the hermit's face had gone;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And if his eyes in the moonlight shone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They glistened with thankful tears alone.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He listened in solemn awe until</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The mountebank's tale was done; and still,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some moments, he neither spoke nor stirred,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But silently pondered every word.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then humbly speaking, "The Lord," said he,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Has had great mercy on you and me!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And now, my son, I must tell you why</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I came to speak with you—know that I</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Have tried with the Lord alone to dwell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For forty years, in my mountain cell;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In prayer and solitude, day and night,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Have striven to keep my candle bright!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there, but yesterday, while I prayed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An angel came to my side, and said</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That I should seek you,—and told me where,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And should your life with my own compare;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For in God's service and love and grace</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Your soul with mine has an equal place,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We both alike have his mercy shared,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The same reward is for both prepared.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I came; I sought you—and you know how</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I found you out in the square just now!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At which—may the Lord forgive my pride!—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At first I was poorly satisfied.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But now I have heard your story through—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What you in a single night could do!—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And know that this to the Lord appears</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Worth all my service of forty years;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I can but wonder, and thank His grace</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which raised us both to an equal place,"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But, Father, it never can be true!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What?—I by the side of a saint like you?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ah no! You never to me were sent.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was some one else whom the angel meant!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"No! Listen to me—'T was </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, my son!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Our Master said that a service done</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To a child of His in time of need</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is done to Himself in very deed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And is with love by Himself received!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So do not think I have been deceived,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But keep those words on your heart engraved</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the humble woman whose life you saved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">God will remember</em><span>, and trust His care.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He will not forget you here nor there!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O Father, Father! And can it be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the Lord in heaven remembers me?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And yet I had felt it must be true,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the woman spoke as if she knew!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But when was ever such mercy shown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And is this the love He bears His own?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are these the blessings He holds in store?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, let me serve Him for evermore!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And when, at the close of another day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit wearily made his way</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Up the mountain path, from stone to stone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He did not climb to his cell alone.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The mountebank, still with wondering face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Came with him up to that peaceful place!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Together with thankful hearts they went,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thenceforth together their lives were spent.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, ere the summer had reached its close,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Another cell from the rocks arose;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The beech, in its strong and stately growth,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Spread one green canopy over both.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On summer evenings, when shepherds guide</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their flocks to rest on the mountain side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They heard above, in the twilight calm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two voices, chanting the evening psalm;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And one was agèd, and one was young,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But never was hymn more sweetly sung!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In love and patience, by deed and word,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They helped each other to serve the Lord,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Together to pray, to learn, to teach,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till a deeper blessing fell on each.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their souls grew upward from day to day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he who farthest had gone astray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who, lowest fallen, had hardest striven,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who most had sinned and been most forgiven,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Erelong in the heavenly race outran</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The older, milder, and wiser man.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two years he dwelt with his agèd friend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then made a blessèd and peaceful end;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, when his penitent life was done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit wept as he would for a son!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Ten years had over the mountain passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Since that poor mountebank breathed his last,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Helped, to the end, by a woman's prayer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ten years; and the hermit still was there.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Grown older, thinner, with shoulders bent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He seldom forth from his shelter went.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But those he had helped in former days</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With prayers and counsel, in thousand ways,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were mindful of him, and brought him all</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He needed now, for his wants were small.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And happy they were their best to give,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If only their mountain saint would live!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For in his living their lives were blest;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And if he longed for the perfect rest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Patient he was, and content to wait,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While God should please, at the heavenly gate.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Beautiful now his face had grown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the beauty was something not his own,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A solemn light from the blessèd land</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Within whose border he soon must stand.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Little he said, but his every word</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was saved and treasured by those who heard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To be a blessing in years to come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When he should be theirs no more; and some</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who brought their little to help his need,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Went home with their souls enriched indeed!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>One autumn morning he sat alone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Outside his cell; and the warm sun shone</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a friendly light on his silver hair,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the branches, smooth and almost bare,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the beech-tree, now, like him, grown old.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The night before had been sharp and cold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the frost was white on leaf and stem</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wherever the rocks still shaded them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But where the sunbeams had found their way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In glittering, crystal drops it lay;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And fallen leaves at his feet were strewn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yellow and wet, over turf and stone.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He sat and dreamed, as the agèd do,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While, drifting backward, he lived anew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The years that never again should be.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A placid dream—for his soul was free</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From all the troubles of long ago,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The doubts, the conflict he used to know!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Doubts of himself, and a contest grim</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With evil spirits that strove for him.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now all was over; that troubled day</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was like a storm that had passed away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It seemed to him that his voyage was o'er;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His ship already had touched the shore.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet once he sighed; for he knew that he</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was not the man he had hoped to be,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, looking back on his journey past,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He felt—what all of us feel at last!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his soul was moved to pray once more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The prayer he had made twelve years before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only to know, before he died,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If he were worthy to stand beside</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One of God's children, or great or small,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who served Him truly; and that was all!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It was not long ere the angel came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who, gently calling the saint by name,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Said: "Come, for thou hast not far to go.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One step, and I to thine eyes will show</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The very dwelling that shelters now</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two souls as near to the Lord as thou!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit rose; and with reverent tread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He followed on as the angel led.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where a single cleft the rocks between</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gave passage out of the valley green</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They passed, and stood in the pathway steep:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The rocks about them were sunken deep</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In fern, and bramble, and purple heath,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That sloped away to the woods beneath;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While far below, and on every side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were endless mountains, and forests wide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And scattered villages here and there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That all looked near in the clear, dry air.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And here a church, with its belfry tall;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there a convent, whose massive wall</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Rose grave and stately above the trees.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit willingly looked at these;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For hope they gave him that now, at least,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some praying brother or toiling priest</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Might be his mate; but it was not so!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The angel showed him, away below,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A slope where a little mountain-farm</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lay, all spread out in the sunshine warm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Along the side of a wooded hill.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It looked so peaceful and far and still!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when his eye on the farmhouse fell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The angel said: "It is there they dwell!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two women in heart and soul like thee.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Go, find them, Brother, and thou shalt see</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All that thou art in their lives displayed."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Before the hermit an answer made,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The angel back to the skies had flown;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He stood in the rocky path alone.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Along the broken and winding way</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Between the heath and the boulders gray;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through lonely pastures that led him down</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To oaken woods in their autumn brown;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And o'er the stones of a rippling stream,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit passed, like one in a dream!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As though the vision, had made him strong:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He hardly knew that the way was long.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was almost noon when he came in sight</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the little farmhouse, low and white:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A sheltered lane by the orchard led,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where mountain ash, with its berries red,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Rose high above him; and brambles, grown</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All over the rough, low wall of stone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And tangled brier with thorny spray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And feathered clematis, edged the way.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, turning shortly, a view he caught</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of both the women for whom he sought.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>One, spinning, sat by the open door;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her spindle danced on the worn stone floor.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The other, just from the forest come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had brought a bundle of branches home,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And spread them now in the sun to dry;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But both looked up as the saint drew nigh.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, on a sudden, the spindle stopped,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The branches all on the grass were dropped.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He heard them joyfully both exclaim,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"The Saint! The hermit!" And forth they came</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To bid him welcome, and made request</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That he would enter their house to rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But when a blessing they both implored,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had not courage to speak the word.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The only blessing his lips let fall</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was this: "May the good Lord bless us all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And keep our hearts in His peace divine!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With hand uplifted, he made the sign,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then entered in (to their joy complete!)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And willingly took the offered seat.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And soon before him a meal was spread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of chestnuts, of goat's milk cheese, and bread;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While one with her pitcher went to bring</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some water fresh from the ice-cold spring.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He could not taste of the food prepared</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till he his errand to both declared.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Said he: "My friends, I have come to-day</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With something grave on my mind to say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And more to hear; and I pray you now</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To answer truly, and not allow</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A feeling, whether of pride or shame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or any shrinking from praise or blame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To change the answer you both may give,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of what you are and of how you live."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then she with distaff still at her side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of speech more ready, at once replied.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In years the elder, but not in face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She kept a little of youthful grace:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The dark eyes under her snow-white hair</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were keen and clear as the autumn air!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We are but what we appear to be:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two toiling women, as you may see!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And neither so young nor strong as when</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In field and forest we helped the men.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We now have only the lesser care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To keep the house, and the meals prepare,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And other labours of small account,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet something worth in the week's amount.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But in our youth, and a lifetime through,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We laboured, much as the others do!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through storm and sunshine we still have tried</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To do our best by our husbands' side.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And keep their hearts and our own at rest</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When sickness came or when want oppressed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For even famine our house assailed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That year when the corn and chestnuts failed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And once—that winter ten years ago—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Our house was buried beneath the snow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And ere it melted and light returned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The very benches for warmth we burned!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor is there want, in our busy hive,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of children keeping the house alive:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For she has seven, and I have nine;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But three of hers and the first of mine</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are safe with Jesus,—more happy they!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two more have married and gone away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My son's young wife, with her infant small,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Make up the household—fourteen in all."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"In this," he said, "there is much to praise:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In humble service you pass your days,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And spend your life for your children's needs.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But tell me now of the pious deeds</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(For such there are) that you seek to hide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To me in a vision signified!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But, sir, we are just two poor old wives.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who never have done in all our lives</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A pious deed that was worth the name!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She said; and her white head drooped with shame.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then said the other: "And yet, 't is true,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We help in all that our husbands do.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When twice a year they have killed a sheep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T is only half for ourselves we keep;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Our poorer neighbours have all the rest.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And this, I fear, is the very best</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We ever do!" "And," said he, "'t is well!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But think—is there nothing more to tell?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They both were silent a little space,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And each one questioned the other's face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till, doubtful, when she had thought awhile,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The elder said, with a modest smile:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"This summer have forty years gone by,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Since she—my sister-in-law—and I</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Together came in this house to dwell;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, Father, it is not much to tell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But in all these years, from first to last,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No angry word has between us passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor even a look that was less than kind.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And that is all I can call to mind."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Enough it was for the hermit's need!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He rose, like one from a burden freed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Thank God!" he said; "if indeed He sees</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My soul as worthy and white as these!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And great the mercy He doth bestow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That I should His hidden servants know!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A sudden flash, as of heavenly light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then shone within him, and all was bright;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in a moment were things made clear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had vexed him many a weary year!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he, who had thought on earth to view</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>God's people only a scattered few,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Saw now, in spirit, an army great</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of hidden servants who on Him wait.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No saintly legends their names disclose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And no man living their number knows,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor can their service and place declare.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hidden servants are everywhere!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And some are hated, despised, alone;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And some to even themselves unknown.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the Father's house has room for all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And never one from His hand can fall!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The one brave deed of a desperate man,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Grown hard in crime since his youth began,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who yet, for a helpless woman's sake,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had strength to rise, and his chain to break;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The holy sweetness that fills the heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of him who dwells from the world apart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His life one dream of celestial things,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till almost heaven to earth he brings;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or yet the humble, unnoticed life</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of toiling mother and patient wife,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who, year on year, has had grace to bear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her changeless burden of daily care,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are all accepted with equal love,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And laid with treasures that wait above</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Until the day when we all believe</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That every man shall his deeds receive.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And when, that evening, with weary feet</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hermit stood by his lone retreat,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And watched awhile, with a tranquil gaze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The mountains soft in the sunset haze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And sleeping forest, and field below,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He said, as he saw the star-like glow</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of lights in the cottage windows far,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"How many God's hidden servants are!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-bag-of-sand"><span class="bold large">The Bag of Sand</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE BAG OF SAND was written by St. Heradius, -who visited, some time in the fifth century, the -hermit fathers of the desert and mountains, and collected -many interesting stories about them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Bag of Sand</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container"> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In that land of desolation</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Where, mid dangers manifold,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lost in heavenly contemplation,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Desert fathers dwelt of old,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Lay a field where grass was growing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Green beneath the palm-trees' shade;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And a spring, forever flowing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Life amid the stillness made.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">There a brotherhood, incited</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">By one hope and purpose high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Came to dwell in faith united,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Pray and labour, live and die.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Mighty was the love that bound them.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Each to each, in that wild land,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Where the desert closed around them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">One dead waste of rocks and sand,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Saving where, to rest their eyes on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">While they dreamed of hills divine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Blue, above the low horizon,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Stretched the mountains' wavy line.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">There could nought of earth remind them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Nor disturb their dreams and prayers;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">They had left the world behind them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Felt no more its joys and cares.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Far from all its weary bustle,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Will subdued, and mind at ease.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">They could hear the palm-trees rustle</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the early morning breeze.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">When the bell, to prayer inviting.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From the low-built belfry rang,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">They could hear the birds uniting</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">With them while the psalms they sang.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From the earth their labour brought them</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All they needed—scanty fare.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Life of toil and hardship taught them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Though at peace, the cross to bear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">This is all their record: never</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Can we hope the rest to know!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Names and deeds are lost forever,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the mist of long ago;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And of all that life angelic</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Neither shadow left, nor trace.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Save this tale,—a precious relic,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In its wise and saintly grace!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">This, above the darkness lifted</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">By the truth that in it lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">On the sea of time has drifted,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And is still our own to-day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Listen to it, it may teach us</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Wisdom, with its words of gold!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Let this far-off blessing reach us</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From the desert saints of old.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Underneath the vines they tended</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the garden air was sweet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the shadows, softly blended,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Made an ever cool retreat,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>These good brethren had assembled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On their abbot to attend;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All were sad, and many trembled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thinking how the day would end.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Of their little congregation</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One who long had faithful been,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had, beneath a sore temptation,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fallen into grievous sin.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>What it was they have not told us,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But we know, whatever the blame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If God's hand should cease to hold us,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You or I might do the same.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And for judgment's wise completing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(Now the crime was certified),</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All were called in solemn meeting</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the sentence to decide.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Much in doubt, they craved assistance,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sent to convents far away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Even to that fair blue distance</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where their eyes had loved to stray.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Fathers learnèd, fathers saintly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Abbots used to think and rule,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gathered where the brook sang faintly</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the shadow, green and cool.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Oh the beauty that was wasted</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On that day, remembered oft!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh the sweetness, all untasted,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the morning, still and soft!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>At their feet the water glistened,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Birds were nesting overhead;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No one saw, and no one listened</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Save to what the speakers said.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Long and sad was their debating,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Voices low and faces grave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While, the gloomy tale relating,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Each in turn his judgment gave.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Send him from you!" one was saying</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Calmly, as of reason sure;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"All are tainted by his staying,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Let men know your hands are pure!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"For the shame and sorrow brought you,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Let him be to all as dead!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Harm sufficient has he wrought you!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the abbot shook his head.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For the sin which had undone him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For much evil brought about,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He would lay a burden on him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he could not cast him out!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>All night long the distant howling,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he waked, of beasts of prey,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Made him think of demons prowling,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Come to snatch that soul away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Said another: "I would rather</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That his shame by all were seen.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Do not spare him, O my Father;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Let the blow be swift and keen!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Let not justice be evaded!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Keep him, bound to labour hard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With you, but apart degraded,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And from speech with all debarred!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>This the abbot not refusing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only wondered, while he thought,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was there no one feared the losing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of a soul the Lord had bought?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>One, more thoughtless, recommended</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That in prison closely pent</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He should stay till life was ended!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But to this would none consent.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In the cell where first they closed him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shrinking back, as best he might,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From a window that exposed him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sometimes to a passer's sight,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He, the black offender, waited,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From them parted since his fall:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Once beloved, now scorned and hated</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By himself, he thought by all!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Nothing asking, nothing pleading,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Speechless, tearless, in despair;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But, like one in pain exceeding,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Moving ever here and there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Little did his fate alarm him:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What had he to fear or shun?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What could others do to harm him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>More than he himself had done?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But without were minds divided,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the morning wore away;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Noon had come, and undecided</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still the heavy question lay.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Though they looked so stern and fearless,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some with sinking hearts had come,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Hearts that wept when eyes were tearless,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pleaded when the lips were dumb.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>One who had that morning seen him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Seeking from their gaze to hide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Tried from heavy doom to screen him;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his reasons were denied.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He of other days was thinking,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Happy days, and still so near!—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When that brother, shamed and shrinking,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had to all their souls been dear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Others tried their hearts to harden,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Felt their pity to be sin;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Silent, prayed the Lord to pardon</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Kinder thoughts that rose within.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Some proposed and some objected,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While, the long debate to end,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One old Father they expected,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And on him would all depend.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He—their honoured, best adviser—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Dwelt in desert cave retired;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Older than the rest, and wiser:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Many thought his words inspired;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Said he knew what passed within them</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When by sin or doubt assailed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>True it is, his words could win them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Often, when all else had failed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He would find what all were seeking,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Justice pure, and judgment right!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still the abbot, seldom speaking,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pale and sober, prayed for light.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Light was sent! For, toiling slowly</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O'er the sun-baked desert road,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Came that Father, wise and holy,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Bent beneath a weary load!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Scarce his failing limbs sustained him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the burden sorely pressed:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Many times, as though it pained him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would he stand to breathe and rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>One who watched for his arriving,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Went and told them he was near.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Up they rose, and ceased their striving,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In their joy such news to hear!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then they all went forth and met him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By their reverent love compelled:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nevermore could one forget him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who that day his face beheld!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Wasted, worn, yet strong to aid them;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Peaceful, though by conflict tried;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shining with a light that made them</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Feel the Lord was by his side!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But it grieved their souls to see him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By that burden bowed and strained!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Many stretched their hands to free him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wondering what the sack contained.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Why this burden?" one addressed him;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"All unfit for arms like thine!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He, while yet the weight oppressed him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Answered: "These are sins of mine.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I must bear them all, my brother,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ever with me while I go</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On my way to judge another!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>These have made my journey slow."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then the abbot, growing bolder,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Raised the load with trembling hand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the Father's bended shoulder;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Looked—and found it filled with sand.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Of them all, there was not any</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But was silent for a while;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the best had sins as many</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the sand-grains in that pile!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then they heard the abbot saying,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"God alone must judge us all!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a burden, heavy weighing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Seemed from every heart to fall.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Awed and hushed, but no more keeping</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pity crushed, or love restrained,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some were smiling, some were weeping;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of their striving what remained?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Many bowed in veneration;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Others all in haste to go</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a word of consolation</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To their brother fallen low.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Hope they brought, and gentler feeling,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To his torn, despairing breast,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And that evening found him kneeling</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the chapel with the rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>None arose to judge or sentence:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He whose sin they most deplored,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his long and sad repentance,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was with charity restored.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="il-crocifisso-della-providenza"><span class="bold large">Il Crocifisso della Providenza</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The crucifix about which this story is told is still -to be seen in the church of the Carmine, where it -is kept in the Corsini chapel; and it is always shown to -the public on the first of May, when also (as the ballad -relates) a </span><em class="italics">festa</em><span> is held in the house once occupied by -the three sisters, in the Via dell' Orto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The house seems to have been little changed since -they lived there; it now bears the number 10, and is -easily recognized by a niche in the wall, containing a -representation of the crucifix, and the chest piled with -loaves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From time immemorial, a lamp burns every night -before this little shrine: the oil is provided by the poor -women of the vicinity (and they are very poor indeed), -each one laying by a few </span><em class="italics">centesimi</em><span> every week for the -purpose.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Il Crocifisso della Providenza</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The streets of Florence are fair to see,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With palace and church and tower,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there the mighty of earth have dwelt,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the whole world feels their power.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And many come from the East and West</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To gaze on its beauty rare;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To stand where the wise and great have stood,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For their presence is ever there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But they never think of the narrow streets</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the poor of the city dwell;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Those humble houses, so bare and plain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Have tales of their own to tell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There's one by the San Frediano gate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not far from the city wall;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some Latin words on its front engraved</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The memory still recall</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Of one, a beggar, to all unknown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who knocked at the door one day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of what a blessing he left behind</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That morn when he went his way,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It happened hundreds of years ago,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But they tell the story still;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So listen now to the legend old,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And smile at it if you will.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But if you smile, be it not in scorn;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The tale which I now relate</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Has lightened many a heavy heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By the San Frediano gate.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Long since, they say, in that ancient house</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were orphan maidens three,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in the chamber above the door,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose window you still may see,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They worked and prayed, by the world unseen;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And ever, the long day through,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The needles stitched, and the spindle twirled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the knitted garment grew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So young, and one of them yet a child,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With never an earthly friend;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They prayed each day for the daily bread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which they knew the Lord would send.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And toiling cheerfully, lived content,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor ever of want complained,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But freely shared with the needy poor</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The little their labour gained.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But evil days to the sisters came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And their faith was sorely tried:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A merchant, one of the first in town,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That winter had failed and died.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And many debts had he left behind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And their work was all unpaid;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he it was who had bought and sold</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The delicate wares they made.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They prayed for help, and they sought for work;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But awhile they sought in vain.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They pledged the ring that their father wore,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And their mother's golden chain.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then work they found, but for neighbours poor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And some of them could not pay;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was well for them that the spring began,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the cold had passed away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And one by one, as the days went on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were the household treasures sold,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The copper pitcher, the brazen lamp,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the nut-wood table old,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The pot of pinks from the window-sill—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But when they had sold them all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An ancient crucifix, carved in wood,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still hung on the whitewashed wall</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Above the chest where the loaves were kept;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Such blessing its presence shed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It seemed to them like a living friend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And not like an image dead!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In all their troubles, in all their joys,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That crucifix bore a part;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Above all comfort, or wealth, or gain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was dear to the sisters' heart!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>As babes, before they could understand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or ever a prayer repeat,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Each day their father had held them up,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While they kissed the carven feet.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So April came, and so April went;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they lived, the Lord knows how!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The elder sister had saved and spared,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the chest was empty now.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>That very evening she broke in halves,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And gave to the younger two,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One piece of bread—'t was the last they had;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was nothing more to do,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Unless, unless—and she looked at them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then at the image dear:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She touched it once; but her hand drew back</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a guilty, shrinking fear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Her sisters saw, and they started up,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they said in haste, "Not so!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Take back the bread, if there be no more;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The crucifix must not go!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And she took courage, and kissed them both,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And smiled, though her eyes were wet;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then looked again at the face beloved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And said, "He will help us yet!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They rose next day with the early dawn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And their hearts were almost light!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The young need little to make them glad,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the day was fair and bright.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And pleasant 't is to behold the sun,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though his rosy-tinted ray</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could only shine on the moss-grown tiles</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the roof across the way.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And the air was sweet in the narrow street</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the swallows toss and glide;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For a perfume came on the morning breeze</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the hills on every side,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A perfume faint from the woods afar,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From blossoming fields of corn;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And bells already their chimes began,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For this was a sacred morn.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The Carmine church is near at hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the sisters thither hied;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was there they had knelt in happy days</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By the dear dead mother's side.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then home, through the gay and festive street,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till they reached the chamber bare:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The time had come for the morning meal,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And alas, no bread was there!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The elder girl on her sisters looked,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her face grew white with pain.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then said the one who was next in age,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Let us ask the Lord again!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So down they knelt on the red-tiled floor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the elder bowed her head,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And said aloud, while the others joined,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The prayer for their daily bread.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And then, with a tempest in her heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That she could no more withstand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With her arm around the younger girl,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the other by the hand,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She pleaded, raising her tearful face</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the dying face above,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For those she loved in their helpless state</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With more than a sister's love.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O blessed Jesus! O Lord divine!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Have pity, we wait for Thee!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Look down—Thou seest our empty chest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thou knowest how poor we be!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, send some bread to my sisters dear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the cornfields all are Thine!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I 'd rather lie in my grave to-day</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than to see these children pine!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Thou knowest, Lord, I have done my best;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But my hands have failed at length:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A mother's burden is on me laid</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With only a maiden's strength.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Come, help me! Look at these orphan girls!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, save them from want and woe!—"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her praying ceased, for they heard a sound,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A knock at the door below.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They rose, and all to the window went:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A beggar was at the door,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A poor, pale stranger, with staff in hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who had never come before.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The Month of Mary was coming in;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And many were on their way</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To ask for alms in the Virgin's name</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On that beautiful first of May.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"My little sisters," the beggar said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(And bowed to the maidens three,)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I pray you spare from your table spread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A morsel of bread for me!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I come from far, and I 've far to go;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I 've eaten nought to-day!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The elder wept, but she answered not;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the second turned away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The younger looked with her innocent eyes</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the beggar's pleading face:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"And if we could, we would give you food;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But we 're in as hard a case!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We finished yesterday all we had—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The half of a loaf, no more!—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We just were asking the Lord for bread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When we heard you at the door."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Go, look in the chest, my little maid;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You 'll find there is bread to spare!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Alas, we have looked so many times,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And never a crust is there!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Look once again, for the love of Him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose image I see within:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He never has failed to help His own,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And He will not now begin."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So only lest it should seem unkind</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To refuse the small request,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The elder girl with a patient smile</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Went back to the empty chest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She looked—and down on her knees she fell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a cry of glad surprise:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The others turned, and their breath stood still,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They could scarce believe their eyes!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was full! And the loaves were piled so high</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They could close the lid no more.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their tears fell faster for joy that day</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than they fell for grief before!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But in the midst of their thankful praise</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They thought of the starving man:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The little one seized the topmost loaf,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And back to the window ran.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She looked, she called him—he was not there!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They sought him, but all in vain:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He passed away from their sight that day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he came no more again.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So ends the story; but ever since</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That crucifix bears the name</span></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">La Providenza</em><span>; and even now</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The house has a sacred fame.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And many kneel where the sisters knelt</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Each year on the first of May;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the floor is all bestrewn with flowers,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And leaves of the scented bay.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The humble room is with roses decked.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And bright with the candles' glow;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And smoke of incense, and sound of psalm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Float over the street below.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A woman agèd and silver-haired</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Once told me, with solemn thrill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How she herself had beheld the chest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which stands in the chamber still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>I asked her: "Who was that beggarman?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An angel, do you suppose?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A saint from heaven?" Her face grew grave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she answered me, "Who knows?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And then, with voice to a whisper dropped,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With an awed, mysterious air,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Some think," she said, "'t was the Lord Himself</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who came at the maiden's prayer."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="angels-in-the-churchyard"><span class="bold large">Angels in the Churchyard</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The story of the "Angels in the Churchyard" was -told me by Signore Bortolo Zanchetta of Bassano, -who said that he read it in an old book, but he had -lost the book, and could not even remember its name.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Angels in the Churchyard</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A saint there was, long time ago,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all in vain I tried</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His name to learn, or whence he came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or how or where he died.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For he from whom the tale I heard</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could tell me nothing more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Save only that within him dwelt</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of love an endless store.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And in the churchyard once he passed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A summer night in prayer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For pity of the nameless dead</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who lie forgotten there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He knew not when the sun went down,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So earnestly he prayed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He knew not when the twilight glow</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was lost in deepening shade.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And when the fair, round moon arose</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Behind the wooded hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She looked across the churchyard wall,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And found him praying still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But when the night was far along,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when the moon was high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When all the village lights were out,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And closed was every eye,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>When low above the sleeping dead</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The folded daisies slept,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he alone his patient watch</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Until the morning kept,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Came angels through the churchyard gate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But in no heavenly guise;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So unadorned, he little thought</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They came from Paradise!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The moon lit up their robes of white;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No other glory shone.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He watched them, as they paused before</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One sunken, moss-grown stone,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And thrice their silver censers swung,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As at some saintly shrine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But never incense burnt on earth</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had perfume so divine.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Between the graves they glided on:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Toward a cross they turned—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A wooden cross that bore no name—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there the incense burned.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A fading garland on it hung,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of wild flowers simply twined;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whoever lay in that poor grave</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had left some love behind.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But next they sought a dreary place</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Against the northern wall;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He could not see if mound were there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The nettles grew so tall!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And on to others, three or four,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their noiseless steps they bent:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where'er they stayed, the incense rose;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, as they came, they went.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But often to that churchyard green</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did he at night repair;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And ever, when the hour returned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The angels all were there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He thought them only white-robed priests;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And much he wondered why</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Each night at certain graves they stayed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While others they passed by.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Till, after waiting, wondering long,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One night he forward pressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And spoke with one who walked apart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A step behind the rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was starlight now; the moon had waned:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He hardly saw the face</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of him he talked with; but he felt</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Great peace was in the place.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Of God's own saints," the angel said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"A few lie buried here;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And He so loves them that to Him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their very dust is dear!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"So, while their souls with perfect peace</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are in His presence blest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He will not that these humble graves</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Should all unhonoured rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Each night from heaven He sends us down.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where'er His flowers are sown—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>These bodies that shall one day rise,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All glorious like His own!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The saint was silent, for his lips</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could find no word to say:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He stood entranced, and like to one</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose soul is far away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>At length he roused; the stars were dim,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The night had half withdrawn:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A light was in the eastern sky,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The clear pale light of dawn.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then came a freshening in the air,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A twitter in the trees,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A ripple in the dewy grass</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That felt the early breeze;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And sounded from the tower above</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sweet-toned, ancient bell;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While bright and busy over all</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The summer morning fell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The daisies opened; happy birds</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sang in the sunshine free.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The dead alone are sleeping now;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their morning is to be.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-origin-of-the-indian-corn"><span class="bold large">The Origin of the Indian Corn</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This story was told me by the Contessa Vittoria -Percoto Antonini of Palmanuova, who said that -she heard it in her youth at a </span><em class="italics">Fila</em><span>, which is a sort of -social gathering held in the winter evenings by the -</span><em class="italics">contadini</em><span> in that part of the country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The winter is cold, and these </span><em class="italics">contadini</em><span>, who are very -poor and can ill afford the wood for a fire, meet in the -cattle-shed, where the breath of cows and oxen warms -the air a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They often say, "It is the way that the Gesù -Bambino was warmed!" A lantern hangs from one -of the beams overhead, and by its dim light the women -spin or knit. All talk together, and (as the Contessa -Vittoria expresses it) "the boys make themselves -agreeable to the girls, very much as though it were a party -of ladies and gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And from time to time the elder people entertain the -company with stories, of which this is a pretty fair -specimen.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Origin of the Indian Corn</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Legend of Friuli</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In the far Italian border land,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With its rolling hills and mountains grand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the Alps of Carnia rising near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the snow lies more than half the year;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With crags where the clinging fir-trees grow</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Above the chestnuts and vines below,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the weary, changing world remote,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There age on age doth a legend float.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The young have learnt it from agèd men;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It never was written yet with pen.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It seems at first, when they tell it o'er,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A childish fancy, and nothing more;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And bearing the impress, deep indeed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the hard and struggling lives they lead:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A thing to smile at, and then forget,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Scarce worthy a passing thought—and yet</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The simple tale may a lesson teach</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If only one can its meaning reach!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like one of their living, hill-side springs,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That shows the image of common things;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So he who looks on its surface sees</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The bending flowers, the arching trees,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sun, the shadow, the rocks, the sky,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The busy birds that go flitting by,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While deep below is the endless wealth</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of water, given for life and health.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In homely form is the lesson taught;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But worthy still of a reverent thought.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So listen, think; if you have a mind</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To seek, and the hidden treasure find:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For Truth, most precious and fair, doth dwell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the crystal depth of this mountain well.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And this is the story, often told</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the winter evenings long and cold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the low-roofed, dimly lighted shed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the breath of oxen serves instead</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of a blazing hearth to warm the place:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A smile of peace is on every face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And hearts are light, and they often say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Our Lord was warmed in the self-same way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That night when He on the earth was born!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the shed no longer seems forlorn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For it makes them feel Him near at hand:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they the better can understand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How by His pity and timely aid</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The beautiful Indian corn was made.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was in the days when He dwelt below,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Before 't was given to man to know</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or who He was or from whence He came;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the world had hardly heard His name!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He journeyed over the country roads,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He taught the poor, and He eased their loads.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had no dwelling wherein to rest</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the one or two who loved Him best,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And once in seeking a friendly door</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They came to a farmer's threshing-floor.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hot July had but just begun;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The road lay white in the blinding sun;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The air was heavy with odours sweet;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sky was pale, as if faint with heat.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two weary men and two women pale</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were threshing, each with a heavy flail,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A mile away you could hear the sound</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In measured cadence along the ground.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, moved with pity at such a sight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It pleased Him to make their burden light.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At first He prayed them to pause and rest;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They only smiled at the strange request,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And laboured on till He spoke again:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Fear not, Myself I will thresh the grain!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>At sound of His holy voice, they knew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That what He said He would surely do!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He bade them bring Him a burning brand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, though they little could understand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The brand was brought, and they saw Him bend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And touch the corn with the lighted end.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then swiftly, as by a tempest blown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The straw to the farther side was thrown;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The wheaten kernels, all clear and bright,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lay piled on high—'t was a pleasant sight!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Another and smaller heap contained</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The chaff, and whatever else remained.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was threshed and winnowed, and all in one;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The work of days in a moment done!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The happy threshers, with one accord,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gave thanks and praise to the blessèd Lord;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And grateful tears at His feet were shed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Meanwhile the news through the village spread;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For more than one had been near, and seen</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The miracle of the wheat made clean.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From field and garden and cottage door,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The people flocked to the threshing-floor.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then came a time of such joy supreme</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As never had been in thought or dream.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For when they looked on the clean-threshed wheat,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And heard the threshers their tale repeat,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And knew that He had this wonder done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They knelt and worshipped Him, every one!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, think how happy they were and blest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who might awhile in His presence rest!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Think what it would be for you or me</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That voice to hear and that face to see!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The children run to Him where He stands,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And cling with their little sunbrowned hands</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To His garment; and the parents feel</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their burden lightened while yet they kneel.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Thank God, who spared us!" the agèd say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"To look on Thy blessèd face to-day!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sick are healed, and the weak made strong,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And hearts consoled that had suffered long:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A sound of gladness, of praise and prayer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Floats far away on the summer air.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Amid such transports of young and old,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How was it that one could still be cold?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A certain widow whom all confessed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To be the bravest, perhaps the best,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Among the women the place contained—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Why was it that she aloof remained?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Handsome and stately, and strong of arm</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To guard her fatherless babes from harm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With five little hungry mouths to fill;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For them she laboured with might and will!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But, proud of spirit, she could not bear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That other hearts should her burden share.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of soul too high for an evil deed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She scorned the others, but helped their need.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In wit and wisdom the rest excelled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And yet their kindness too oft repelled;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Accepted nothing, though free to give,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And almost rather had ceased to live</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than share the loaf from a neighbour's shelf.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yes, proud of her very pride itself!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She nursed it, cherished it, thought it grand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To guide unaided her house and land,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And thanked the Lord, when she knelt to pray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That never one in the place could say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I help the widow!" And now she stood</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Apart from the kneeling multitude,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And half impatient and half amused,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She smiled at the simple words they used,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of praise and wonder, and thought how she</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could never so weak and childish be!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For her 't was a proud and happy day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For rest and plenty before her lay:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Herself had sown and herself had reaped;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And now the beautiful sheaves lay heaped,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not far away, by her open door;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her heart rejoiced in the ample store!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A neighbour saw her, and called her name:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Come near! perhaps He will do the same</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For thee, and thy summer's work complete;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I know that thou hast not threshed thy wheat!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She tossed her head with a smile of pride:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I never yet, since my husband died,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Asked help or favour of any one!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Besides, I saw how the thing was done.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I can do it as well as He;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He need not turn from His way for me!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She looked on the awed, adoring crowd,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In scorn a moment; then laughed aloud,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To see the horror among them spread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At sound of the evil words she said.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Our Lord's disciples, though saints they were,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had no good wishes that day for her!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Indeed, their patience was greatly tried</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To see Him slighted and thrust aside.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One even whispered, "Hast Thou not heard?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But He said never an angry word!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One look of pity He on her cast,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then turned, and forth from the village passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Along the lane where the grass was brown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And birds were plucking the thistle-down,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till under the olives' silver screen</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He turned aside, and no more was seen.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And now the widow of heart so proud</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would show to the grave, indignant crowd</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her greater wisdom; with this intent</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She calmly in to her fireside went;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some coals she brought in an iron pan—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"If one can do it, another can!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She said; and then with a careless smile</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She touched the coals to her golden pile.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A flash, a crackle, a blinding blaze</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of flame, that struggles, and soars, and sways,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And sinks a moment, and soars again—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That was the end of the widow's grain!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A few short moments, and nought remained</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of all that her loving toil had gained</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But blackened tinder, and embers red,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the sullen smoke-cloud overhead!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Her friends and neighbours, I fear, meanwhile</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were far less minded to weep than smile;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And hardly one was with pity moved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the woman was not greatly loved.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all were angry, as well as grieved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To think of the slight our Lord received,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>After his wonderful goodness shown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when He had made their cares His own!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The boys were ready to dance and shout,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At seeing the red sparks blown about;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The maidens whispered and laughed aside;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their parents talked on the sin of pride.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To help or comfort her, no one planned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Except the poorest of all the band;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An agèd woman, who near her came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And drew her back from the scorching flame.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Poor soul!" she said, "thou hast children five!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I have none in the world alive.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Keep up thy heart! I am well content</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To share with thee what the Lord has sent.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I just have gathered my harvest store,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when 't is gone, He will send us more!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In vain they spoke to her, ill or good;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She neither listened nor understood.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She minded not if they frowned or smiled;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her face was white, and her eyes were wild,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As, lost in horror, she stood and gazed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To see the corn by her labour raised,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their store of food for the coming year,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Consume before her and disappear!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then came the cry of a little child,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From sleep awakened, in terror wild.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That cry brought life to her fainting heart;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She turned around with a sudden start,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And said, in a husky voice and low,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Which way did that Blessèd Stranger go?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A storm of voices around her rose;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The woman's purpose they all oppose.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Which way?</em><span>" they angrily say; "but how?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wilt thou have courage to seek him now?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And after thy shameful words to-day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is He to stop for thee on His way?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is He to come when He hears thy call?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But, woman, hast thou no shame at all?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Nay, go not near Him!" another said:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"That man has power to strike thee dead,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And thou hast angered Him! Let Him go—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thy pride has ruined thee; be it so!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Though none to help her a hand would lend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That gray-haired woman was still her friend;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She could not speak, for her voice was drowned</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In such a tumult of angry sound.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She only made with her wrinkled hand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A sign the widow could understand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And quick as thought, and before they knew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Away on her wild pursuit she flew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Our Blessèd Lord, with His followers few,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had journeyed on for a mile or two,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When, on the brow of a rocky hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The others noticed that He stood still</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And looked behind Him; they did the same.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A woman running toward them came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Running and stumbling, and falling oft,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And throwing wildly her arms aloft,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As if entreating them still to stay</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till she could finish the toilsome way!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They looked; and pity their souls possessed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At first in seeing her thus distressed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But when they knew her, their hearts grew hard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor would they longer her prayers regard.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Good Lord, that woman it is," they say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Who scorned and slighted Thee so to-day.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She knows her folly, perhaps, too late;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her, most surely, we should not wait!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"She needs me now!" was His sole reply;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And still He waited—they wondered why!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Down in the dust at His feet she fell:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her doleful story she could not tell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For speech had failed, and she vainly tried:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But, stretching her helpless hands, she cried</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(With lips that hardly the words could form,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They trembled so with the inward storm),</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Good Lord, have patience, and pity take</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On me, for the innocent children's sake!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then from her eyes began to pour</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A flood of tears, and she said no more.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She dropped her head on her heaving breast;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But He in His wisdom knew the rest.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when He looked on her, bowed and crushed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her pride all broken, her boasting hushed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Take heart!" He said: "I will give thee more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And better grain than thou hadst before."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The day was drawing toward a close,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sky was clear in its deep repose;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The sun, just sinking away from sight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had touched with a solemn crimson light</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The smoky column that, dark and thin,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still rose where the widow's sheaves had been.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The neighbours lingered, or came and went</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To look, and talk of the day's event.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, smiling grimly the wreck to view,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some said: "The widow has had her due!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But more of them shook their heads and sighed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To think of the bitter fruits of pride.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And one old woman looked down the lane,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And wished the widow would come again!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The five poor little ones sat forlorn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Beside the blackened and wasted corn;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And ate the bread that the neighbours brought:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For them, at least, there was pitying thought.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No sin of theirs, if the corn was burned!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then it was that the Lord returned.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Returned, as ever, to save and bless!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And while the people around Him press,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The widow kneels and the children weep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He lays His hand on the smouldering heap.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His touch has the evil work undone;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in the light of the setting sun</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The corn returned where the ashes lay;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But not as it was at noon that day.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To twice their size had the kernels grown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And each with a burning lustre shone.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For, since that grain through the fire has passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T will bear its colour until the last!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A few, in seeing the store increased</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of her who seemed to deserve it least,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Began to murmur; and yet, maybe,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Themselves were more in the wrong than she!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With all her folly, with all her sin—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For all her ignorant pride had been</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Far more, alas, than her reason strong,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She never did Him that grievous wrong</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of thinking He could refuse the prayer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of one who sought Him in her despair;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or that her sin, were it twice as great,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could close His heart to her woful state;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or lie so heavily on her soul</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But what His love could outweigh the whole!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But most rejoiced in the happy sight</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of evil conquered and wrong made right.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And so from ruin and wreck was born</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The beautiful, flame-hued Indian corn!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-eldest-daughter-of-the-king"><span class="bold large">The Eldest Daughter of the King</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The two stories of the Patriarch, St. John of -Alexandria, which are especially interesting, as being -without doubt true in all their principal facts, are taken -from a short account of that wonderful man, written -by St. Leontius, Bishop of Napolis, in Cyprus, who -visited Alexandria after the Patriarch's death, and -wrote in great part from the dictation of the Patriarch's -servant, by name Zaccarias, himself a man of saintly -character. The stories must have been written by -St. Leontius not long after 620, when the Patriarch died.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Eldest Daughter of the King</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Saint John of Alexandria—blessèd name,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Recalling ever holy thought and deed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O heart forever warm with heavenly flame!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O hand forever full for others' need!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Blessèd and blessing thousands! Since his day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Twelve hundred years, and more, have come and gone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their beauty dead, their glory passed away:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But in our loving thought he still lives on.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Of all who ever walked on earthly sod,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(Though many loved and saintly names there be,)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I know not if another ever trod</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>More closely in his Master's steps than he!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>To comfort all who suffer,—this alone</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His soul desired; for this he prayed and strove</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With heart unchanging; and for him were none</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Too high for pity, nor too low for love.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And often was he rich, and often poor;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For God upon him had great wealth bestowed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which endless store of blessing did procure</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To souls that fainted with their weary load.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Nor could he e'er from sorrow turn away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor from a brother's need his hand withhold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But when his all was spent, men used to say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The good Lord gave him back a hundredfold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Enough there was, and ever more to spare,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though help abundant came at every call.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When prudent friends had prayed him to forbear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He only said, "God has enough for all."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Till, for their souls' content, he told the truth,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He being now a grey-haired agèd man,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The holy vision that had blessed his youth,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And changed, of all his life, the course and plan.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"A boy I was, and in my father's home</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I slept; 't was night, and I was all alone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When to my side I felt a presence come;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A hand awakened me that touched my own.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I saw the chamber all ablaze with light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there, before me, stood a lady fair,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With olive crowned, and clad in raiment bright,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Such as, I think, the saints in Heaven may wear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Hers was no earthly beauty, but a grace</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Most sweet and solemn that no words can reach;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I looked awhile in her celestial face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then addressed her, but with timid speech:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Who art thou, O my lady, that dost bring</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Such glory in the night?' Then answered she:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'I am the eldest daughter of the King,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And more than all my sisters, he loves me.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'For me He left His glory: it was I</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who led Him on along the thorny road,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To suffer, and for others' sin to die;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For me He shared thy sorrow, bore thy load.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Take me for thy companion: I will be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thy friend as I was His, and by the hand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Will lead thee where at evening thou shalt see</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The emperor's face, and in his presence stand.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"While yet the voice was sounding in my ear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The vision ceased; I saw the light no more:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The moon was shining through the window near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all the house was silent as before.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And, waiting till I saw the dawn ascend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I lay and mused upon this wondrous thing;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And tried, with my child's mind, to comprehend</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who was the eldest daughter of the King,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I prayed, I pondered long in vain; until</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A light from Heaven was on my spirit shed:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And not by wisdom, nor by earthly skill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I knew the meaning of the words she said.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When Christ our blessèd Lord to earth came down,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And gave His life for lost and thankless men,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And changed His glory for a thorny crown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was Mercy led and did constrain Him then.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Ah, woe to us, if Mercy had not been</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His eldest daughter, and His guide that day!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then had we died, and perished in our sin,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Unpitied, unforgiven, cast away."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Such was the Patriarch's story, and we know</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That Mercy in his heart her dwelling made,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As in no other; and his life below</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was Mercy, in a thousand forms displayed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And when the summons came that comes to all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As on a journey distant far he went;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he, rejoicing, heard the heavenly call,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>This token to the stricken church was sent.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A humble convent had his bounty shared,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From Alexandria some few miles away:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there, where he for rest had oft repaired,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An agèd brother sick and dying lay.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For years infirm and helpless had he lain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But strong in faith, and happy in God's will,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through all the weary days and nights of pain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His only work to suffer and lie still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They two were friends, the Patriarch and he,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For oft the busy saint had loved to turn</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From care and work, that peaceful face to see,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And from those patient lips some lesson learn.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And now as he lay dying, glad to go,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet thinking, maybe, of his absent friend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To him was granted in a dream to know,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of that most holy life, the blessèd end.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For, sleeping, he beheld in vision clear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That sombre palace by the poor beloved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the good Patriarch, year after year,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had all their burdens lightened or removed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And down the stairway moved a long array</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of priests and others; slowly did they tread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A grave procession, as on festal day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he, the Patriarch, was at their head.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The loved companions of his toil were there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who helped him long to labour and endure,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who knelt beside him in the church at prayer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or bore his secret bounty to the poor.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They passed the door where none had knocked in vain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They crossed the courtyard with its well of stone;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But at the outer gate did all remain</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With saddened look, while he went forth alone.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And now the vision changed, he walked no more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The city street that knew his step so well,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But trod a pleasant path, unknown before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through a fair land, where peace did ever dwell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There rose the emperor's palace on a hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O'erlooking all the country, where it lay</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Spread out beneath it, beautiful and still,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In all the sweetness of an April day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Grand was that mansion, stately to behold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To tell its beauty words can ne'er begin,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The thousand columns, and the domes of gold,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And shining all as from a light within.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He neared the palace—of their own accord</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The lofty gates before him open swing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in the glory, as it outward poured,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Came forth the eldest daughter of the King,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Came as he saw her on that far-off night</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which star-like through his life's long journey shone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wearing her olive crown, her robe of light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And came to meet him, where he walked alone,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He bowed and knelt before her, for he knew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That presence which had blessed him long before;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While from her folded mantle forth she drew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A crown of olive, like the one she wore,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And placed it on the saintly silvered head;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then took his hand. He rose; nor did they wait:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The dreamer watched them as they onward sped,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till, hand in hand, they entered through the gate.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And then, as light concealed them, he awoke,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And to the brethren, gathered in his cell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In tearful silence listening while he spoke,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He did the story of his vision tell,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And bade them note what hour the dream was sent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which some with anxious hearts made haste to do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then waited, fearing what the vision meant;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till time had shown them all they feared was true.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For when the dreaded tidings came at last,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They knew that on that very hour and day</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their much-loved father from this life had passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his own isle of Cyprus, far away.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="bishop-troilus"><span class="bold large">Bishop Troilus</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Bishop Troilus</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MANSION IN HEAVEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In pomp and state, with following great, the Bishop Troilus came</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the town of Alexandria, which knew him long by fame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To see the holy Patriarch, who had been his friend of old,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To hear his words of wisdom, and his saintly life behold.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In youth their paths together lay, and both with one accord</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had chosen then the better part, and thought to serve the Lord;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For half a century now and more had each one gone his way.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The Patriarch nearer was to God, far nearer than that day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his soul was like a garden where the flowers that then were sown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With care and patient tending, had to perfect beauty grown.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And Troilus? ... In the world's esteem he stood as high, or higher;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His piety did all men praise, his eloquence admire;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had fiery words to thrill them, he had flowery words to please,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when he preached on festal days, the people swarmed like bees;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From altar steps to open door there was hardly room to stand.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 't was not the sermon only, but his presence was so grand;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his grave and agèd beauty, with his form erect and tall,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With saintly face and silver hair, he won the hearts of all.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When through the city he returned, so lofty and serene,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A train of priests attended him, all with obsequious mien;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And children followed open-eyed, and gentle ladies bent</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From balcony and window high to see him as he went.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Indeed he was a stately sight in silken raiment clad,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The ring he wore was valued more than aught the Patriarch had;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the cross upon his bosom, that the people wondering viewed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gave back the sunshine, when he walked, from jewels many-hued.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And men said his life was blameless, but it still must be confessed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though the saints were glad to own him, yet the sinners loved him best.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was rich, and he was famous, and, as all his life had shown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was great in worldly wisdom, and the world will love its own.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But while saints and shiners praised him, there was one who did not praise,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But whose eyes forever watched him with a sad and anxious gaze;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the Patriarch, simple-hearted, was not dazzled like the rest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he knew the deadly passion that the Bishop's soul possessed,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yes, more deadly than another, for it lay so still and cold,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like a serpent coiled within him,—'twas the growing love of gold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It had choked away his pleasure, it had eaten up his peace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As with every year that left him he had seen his wealth increase,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till his heart grew dry and withered in the smoke of worldly care;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But it dulled him with its poison, and he knew not it was there.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, the Patriarch longed to see him from such cruel bondage free,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he pleaded hard for Troilus every night on bended knee;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For there yet was time to save him, so he hoped and so believed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the days and weeks were passing, and no answer he received.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But with praying he grew bolder, and to combat he began,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he left his door one morning with a wise and hopeful plan;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he said in solemn murmur, as he walked along the way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I must go and fight with Satan for my brother's soul to-day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He is cruel, he is cunning, but his arts will be in vain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The strongest net he ever wove will never bear the strain</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of seeing and of hearing what each day I hear and see,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the Lord has saved my brother if he will but come with me."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It was in the early morning, long before the noise and heat,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the life was just beginning in the shady city street,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When he saw a church door open, and he turned and entered in.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I will ask the Lord to help me in this work that I begin."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There were some who entered near him, and he saw they came in haste,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Toiling men and burdened women, who had little time to waste;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But they stole some precious minutes in that church to kneel and pray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To refresh their souls and cheer them for the labours of the day;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they gathered close around him on the pavement, for they felt</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That their prayers would rise the higher if their father with them knelt.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then he said to them: "My children, you must help me now indeed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For my heart and soul are troubled for a friend in sorest need;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He is low with mortal sickness, but no earthly skill can cure.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pray the Lord to show His mercy to the poorest of the poor."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So they knelt and prayed together, till the morning sun was high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the Patriarch's heart was kindled, and the time went quickly by.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Troilus too had risen early, and had said his morning prayers,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he said them somewhat coldly, being filled with other cares.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At that moment he was thinking, while he counted up his store,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Upon certain silver goblets he had seen the day before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which a silversmith had brought him, and had hoped that he would buy.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They were nobly wrought and chiselled, and the price indeed was high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he thought upon his table they would look exceeding fine</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When his friends, the rich and noble, should come in with him to dine;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then how all of them would envy, and the thought his spirit cheered,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When a gentle knock aroused him, and the Patriarch appeared.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Very bright his eyes were shining, and his face was all aglow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his voice was strange and solemn, when he told him, "I must go</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the hospital, my brother, and I came here on my way;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If we both could go together, it would be a happy day.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There I find my greatest blessing, every morning fresh and new,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But far greater, but far sweeter could I share it once with you."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How the heart of Troilus softened, as those eyes upon him shone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At their look of earnest pleading, at the tremor in the tone!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Strange it was that look could melt him and that voice could change him so,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Calling back to life, a moment, what had withered long ago,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some old good that stirred within him, often spurned and thrust aside.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the flowers the Lord had planted, though they dwindled, had not died;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was poor in heavenly treasure, but he loved the Patriarch still.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I will come," he answered quickly; "you may lead me where you will."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There were looks and tones of wonder in the hospital that day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the rows of low white couches where the sick and dying lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As, with all his train about him, in his splendour and his pride,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On he walked, the Bishop Troilus, by the simple Patriarch's side.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But erelong the two were parted, for as Troilus looked around,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He recoiled in shrinking horror from each doleful sight and sound;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While the Patriarch loved to linger for a while by every bed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his strong arms ever ready to sustain a drooping head;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Happy in each humble service, and forgetting all his state,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he thanked the Lord who sent him on these stricken ones to wait.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How the pale sad faces brightened into smiles as he drew near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And what loving words were murmured, faintly murmured in his ear!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Does he well," said Bishop Troilus, as he saw him turn and go</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From one bedside to another, "does he well to stoop so low?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet had Troilus only known it, they were not the poor alone</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whom his brother served that morning, but their Master and his own.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was one but just recovered, light of heart, though poor and weak,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a journey long before him, going forth his home to seek,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Far away among the mountains where his wife and children stayed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the Patriarch's love had found him ere the stranger sought his aid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Giving money for the journey, giving blessèd words of cheer.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then he turned, for time was pressing, and a sadder face lay near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Worn by months of pain and languor; he was young, had once been strong,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was fading now, but slowly, and perhaps would suffer long,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the hundred wants of sickness who can know that has not proved?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had wearied all about him, but the Patriarch's heart was moved;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So he heard the long complaining to which no one else gave heed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then he left him, soothed and peaceful, with enough for all his need.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So with one and with another for a moment he would stay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At each bed he left a blessing, and a blessing brought away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till his purse grew light and empty, as had happened oft before;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though he turned it up and shook it, there was not one penny more.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then he turned and sought for Troilus, who that moment, as it chanced,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a look subdued and solemn, stood and gazed, like one entranced,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the strange, unearthly beauty, on the light of perfect peace</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In a woman's face before him; she was nearing her release,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a glory rested on her from the opening door above;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet one shadow marred its splendour when she looked with anxious love</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On a little maid, her daughter, with a pretty, careworn face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who had brought two younger children, waiting now for her embrace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wondering why she did not give it, why so deadly still she lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For they knew not, though she knew it, she would not live out the day.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Said the Patriarch: "Brother Troilus, have you nothing you could give</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To this woman and her children, for she has not long to live?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I see her mind is troubled, and I think, before they part,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had she something she could leave them, it would ease her burdened heart;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For myself, I freely promise I will make these babes my care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But to-day my purse is empty, so I pray you not to spare."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Oh! alas, poor Bishop Troilus! how this pleading broke the spell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the woman's look had woven, and how low his spirit fell!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he dearly loved his money, with a passion deep and blind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As a scholar loves his learning, or a saint his peace of mind.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the eyes of all were on him at that moment, and he knew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was in hopeful expectation of what such a saint would do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were many who had entered from the busy street to gaze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He would not be shamed before them, they should still have cause to praise;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his purse would have to open, so he turned and waved his hand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the priest who always bore it, with a gesture of command.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For this woman for her daughter and the two poor babes," said he,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Lay down thirty golden pieces in the Patriarch's hand for me."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There were none who had not heard him, for his voice was loud and clear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a low, admiring murmur rose from all the couches near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While the Patriarch stood rejoicing in the deed his friend had done;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By himself he judged another, and he thought the victory won.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For one moment Bishop Troilus feels his narrow heart expand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the maiden thanks him weeping, and the children kiss his hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the mother, just departing, from the pillow where she lies,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Turns one happy smile upon him, with a blessing in her eyes.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But alas! on home returning, when the sacrifice was made,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the Patriarch's holy presence was no longer there to aid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He did much bewail his money; half in anger, half in pain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To have parted in a moment with what took so long to gain.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his heart was in a turmoil, and a pain was in his head,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till the raging turned to fever, and he threw him on his bed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In a storm of angry passion that no reason could control;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For to him to part with money was like parting with his soul.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he said no word to any of this rage and inward strife,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the priests who waited on him were in terror for his life,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And as nothing made him better, they took counsel, and agreed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the Patriarch, and he only, was the man to meet their need;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So they sent and humbly prayed him if to come he would be pleased,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his friend the Bishop Troilus was with sudden illness seized.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In his chamber lay the Bishop, sick in body, sick in mind;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the Patriarch, wise in spirit, had his malady divined.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So he came and sat beside him, patient still, but pale with grief,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he made one last endeavour for that troubled soul's relief.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his friend was sore and angry, and his words he would not hear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the presence now disturbed him that had lately been so dear.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he lay with face averted, till he heard the Patriarch say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I have brought you back the money that you gave away to-day."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then indeed he started wildly, and his eyes he opened wide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he turned and faced his brother with a joy he could not hide;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For with sudden hope he trembled, and it paled his fevered cheek;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the Patriarch's heart was sinking, but he still went on to speak:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"When I asked your help this morning, I had nothing of my own,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So I left to you the blessing which had else been mine alone;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For those three dear orphan children I had gladly done the whole,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So their mother up in heaven might be praying for my soul.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I now have come to ask you if this grace you will resign,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Will you take again the money, and let your good deed be mine?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet I pray you to consider, ere you grant it or refuse,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What a great and heavenly treasure I shall win and you will lose;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For indeed I would not wrong you, though to me the gain be great.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So then do not answer rashly,—there is time, we both can wait,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 't were well to think a little on the words our Master said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How He left the poor behind, that we might serve them in His stead;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And whatever help we grant them, be it great or be it small,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To our blessèd Lord we give it, to our Lord, who gave us all."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then made answer Bishop Troilus, "As for what you now propose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If it please you I am ready, and the bargain we can close.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There are many kinds of service, and each needful in its way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I think the Lord has set me in His church to preach and pray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And to save the souls that perish, and to teach men how to live,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While your own vocation, brother, is with open hand to give.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Let not one defraud the other, take your part and leave me mine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For however we may divide it, all the service is divine.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Let us feed God's flock together, for His needy children care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I the souls, and you the bodies, so the burden we may share."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Then so be it," said the other, but his voice was low and grave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he prayed to God in silence for the soul he could not save.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"We must write it all in order, we must sign and seal it too,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So that mine may be the blessing, while the gold remains with you."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So they wrote a contract solemn, to which each one signed his name,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In which he, the Bishop Troilus, did relinquish every claim</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To whatever reward or merit his one pious deed had earned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Since the thirty golden pieces to his hand had been returned.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then the Patriarch counted slowly all the pieces, one by one,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the open hand of Troilus, and his last attempt was done.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All had failed, and heavy-hearted from that chamber forth he went,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While his friend lay still and smiling in the fullness of content;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the fever now had left him, and 't was sweet to lie and rest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With no more a thorn to vex him in his smooth, untroubled breast.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a dreamy satisfaction he was thinking all the while</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How those pretty shining pieces would increase the golden pile</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In that chest of hoarded treasure that already held so much;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he laid his hand upon them with a fond caressing touch.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his thoughts began to wander, and his eyes were closing soon,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the drowsy heat and stillness of the summer afternoon.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then a dream was sent to bless him, as in quiet sleep he lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And it bore him in a vision to the country far away;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he saw the holy city, where the saints and angels dwell;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of its glory, of its beauty, mortal tongue can never tell.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were palm-trees growing stately by the water, crystal clear;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was music ever swelling, sometimes far and sometimes near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As it rose in mystic cadence from the hearts that overflowed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the joy that reigns forever in their beautiful abode.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the people of that city whom he met along the way</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the shining golden pavement, oh, how full of peace were they!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he thought some heavenly vision shone forever in their sight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he looked where they were gazing, but he only saw the light</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As it flooded all with glory, and the air it seemed to fill;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he saw not what they looked on, for his eyes were mortal still.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now among those lighted faces there were some he knew before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the poor to whom so often he had closed his heart and door;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Such as in the heavenly city he had little thought to find,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the sad and sick and needy had been never to his mind:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the rich were not so many, yet a few of these beside,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who by deeds of love and mercy had their Master glorified.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in perfect health and beauty, among all that bright array,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was the woman he saw dying in the hospital that day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>All along the road he travelled, to the left and to the right,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Rose the palaces they dwelt in, each a mansion of delight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But all varying in their beauty, far away as eye could reach,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a name in golden letters, high above the door of each.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And sweet faces smiled upon him, from the windows here and there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gentle faces free forever from the shade of earthly care;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he heard the happy voices of the children as they played</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the fair and peaceful gardens, where the roses never fade;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the things he left behind him seemed so very poor and small,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That he wondered, in that glory, why men cared for them at all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But oh, wonder of all wonders, when he saw a name that shone</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O'er a high and arching doorway, yes, a name that was his own!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could it be his eyes deceived him? No, he read it o'er and o'er;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"This," it said, "of Bishop Troilus is the home forevermore."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh the beauty of that palace, with such light and splendour filled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That he thought the clouds of sunset had been hewn its walls to gild;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the golden door stood open, he could catch a glimpse within</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the vast illumined chambers where no foot had ever been.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He could only gaze bewildered, for the wonder was too great,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the joy so poured upon him he could hardly bear the weight.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then he took one step toward it, but a servant of the King</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who from far-off earth that morning had returned on busy wing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And was bearing gifts and tokens from the scattered church below,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Came and passed and stood before him, in the courtyard's golden glow.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then he turned to his companions, for a few had gathered near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his words fell hard and heavy on the Bishop's listening ear,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"We must cancel that inscription from the stone, and write thereon</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That Troilus hath this palace sold unto the Patriarch John,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And that thirty golden pieces were the price that he received."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Up then started Bishop Troilus, for his soul was sorely grieved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he tried to speak, but could not, and awoke in his dismay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his hand upon the money close beside him where he lay.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now the long bright day was over; as he saw the sun descend,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Weary day," the Patriarch thought it; he was glad to see it end.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was walking in his garden where the freshening shadows lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the flowers that drooped at noontime stood erect in beauty gay;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But their brightness could not cheer him, and he bent his head and sighed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he thought, with wondering sadness, that the Lord his prayer denied,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then he heard a step behind him, and he looked; but who was there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wild of look, like one who struggled with a pain he could not bear?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could it be the stately Bishop? Yes, but oh, how changed to see!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he said with tears and trembling, "O my brother, pray for me!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How the Patriarch's heart rebounded from the weight that on it pressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At the change so deep and sudden, in those broken words expressed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How his cheek grew red with gladness, how it smoothed his troubled brow!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"God forgive me if I doubted, all my prayers are answered now."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Come," he said, "my brother Troilus, sit beside me, tell me all;"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he led him, pale and helpless, to a seat beside the wall.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And there Troilus, clinging closely to that strong and helpful hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Trusting in the heart that loved him and his thoughts could understand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Told the story of his vision to his awed and listening friend,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All that dream of light and glory, with its sad, unlooked-for end:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his voice, which trembled ever, wellnigh failed him when he told</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the horror of that waking, with his hand upon the gold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When his eyes, long blind, were opened, and he saw the wreck within,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And one fearful moment, showed him what his wasted life had been.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Now," he said, "my courage fails me when I think to mend my ways.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I have wasted all God gave me,—mind, and strength, and length of days,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the gold I gave my soul for pulls me downward with its weight;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Help me if you can, oh, help me! Say it is not yet too late."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he looked with eyes beseeching at the Patriarch, who replied</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a smile that fell like sunshine on the faint heart by his side,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What! too late for God's forgiveness, when He calls you to repent?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was to save you, not to lose you, that the blessèd dream was sent;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T is His help, not mine, my brother, you are needing, and you know,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If we ask it, He will give it, for Himself has told us so.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the prodigal returning shall be welcomed all the more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If the years were long and many since he left his Father's door."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"But," said Troilus, "I am agèd, and my manhood's strength is past;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>After such a life ungodly, can I hope for grace at last?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Never fear," the Patriarch answered, "there is joy in heaven to-day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they ask not in their gladness if your hair be black or gray."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So then Troilus gathered courage, and that night, by deed and word,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gave himself and all his substance to the service of the Lord;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet in his own strength mistrusting, he implored his friend anew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his daily prayer to aid him, and he promised so to do.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the thirty golden pieces he returned to him again,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yes, and other thirty with them, for the change was not in vain,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then he left the past behind him, and a better life began;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From that evening in the garden he became another man.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was no more train about him when he walked the city through,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the priests who once attended now had better work to do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the ladies cared no longer from their balconies to lean,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When of worldly pomp and splendour there was nothing to be seen.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the cross of many jewels on his bosom shone no more,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Having gone on works of mercy to increase his heavenly store.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the poor and needy sought him; he was now their faithful friend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they knew, whatever befell them, on his love they might depend.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So his closing days were happy, after years of sordid care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For no gain can bring contentment till the poor have had their share;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he lightened many a burden, and he righted many a wrong,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the wealth became a blessing that had been a curse so long;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his secret hoard was scattered, and men said that he died poor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he found great wealth in heaven at the end, we may be sure.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-crosses-on-the-wall"><span class="bold large">The Crosses on the Wall</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This beautiful legend has for me a most peculiar -interest, owing to the circumstances under which I -first heard it. It was taught to me by a very dear -young friend whom I had known and loved from his -infancy,—Piero, the only surviving child of Count -Giuseppe Pasolini Zanelli of Faenza. It was only last -October—eight months ago—and we were all staying -together in the home of his beloved and still beautiful -grandmother, at Bassano, in the Veneto. It was the -last evening that we expected to pass together, and -Pierino (we had never been able to give up calling him -by that childish diminutive) brought a book with him, -a collection of popular legends compiled by De Gubernatis, -and said that he had a story to read us. It was -"The Crosses on the Wall," and it has always seemed -to me as though he read it on that particular evening -to prepare us for what was to come. For some months -he had been not quite so strong as usual, yet no one -felt any particular apprehension, until on the -twenty-eighth of November he died, almost without warning. -He was twenty-two years old, of a very beautiful -character,—so good that we ought to have known he -was not for us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With him two great and ancient families come to an -end,—the Pasolini-Zanelli of Faenza, and the -Baroni-Semitecolo of Bassano: these last are the only -descendants of that Semitecolo who worked in mosaic at -Torcello.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Crosses on the Wall</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Legend of Primiero</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Come, children, listen to what I tell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For my words are wise to-day:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From Primiero among the hills</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was the legend brought away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And Primiero among the hills</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is a little world apart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where is much to love and much to learn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If you have a willing heart.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It lies on high, like a stranded ship,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the parted wave of time;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not far from the troubled world we know,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the way is hard to climb.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For the mountains rise and close it in,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With their walls of green and gray;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With crag and forest and smooth-worn cliff,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the clouds alone can stray.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And when a house they have builded there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If a blessing they would win,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Above the door do they write a prayer,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That Christ may dwell therein.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And I think, throughout the ancient town,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On its steep ascending road,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In many a heart, in many a home,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Has He taken His abode.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And when a burden is hard to bear—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And such burdens come to all—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They tell the story I 'm telling now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the crosses on the wall.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T is a pearl of wisdom, gathered far</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the dim and distant past;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But ever needed, but ever new,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As long as the world shall last.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For never has been since earth was made,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And surely shall never be,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A man so happy or wise or great,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He might from the cross be free.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The tale it is of a widow poor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And by trouble sorely pressed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of how, through sorrow and many tears,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At the end her soul was blest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She had not been always poor and sad,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her early years were bright,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a happy home, and with parents kind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And herself their hearts' delight!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A mother's darling, a father's pride,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She was fair in form and face;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A sunny creature, a joy to all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her sweet and winning grace.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then, early married to one she loved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had still been shielded well;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her he laboured, for her he thought,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And on her no burden fell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She worked, indeed; but what work was hers</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the short and happy hours?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To pluck the fruit from her orchard trees,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or to tend the garden flowers;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>To sit and spin, and to sing the while</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In her porch with roses gay;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To spread the table with plenty piled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And to watch the children play.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Their home was a little nest of peace;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a mile beyond the town,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In that sheltered valley, green with woods,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the river murmurs down.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And she never dreamed of change to come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(Though a change must all expect,)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till the blow, like lightning, on her fell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her happy life was wrecked.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But who could have thought the man would die?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were few so strong as he!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From his forest work they bore him home,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Struck dead by a falling tree.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A petted child, and a wife beloved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had hardly sorrow known,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till the strong, brave man was borne away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she faced the world alone.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Alone, with a babe too young to speak,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And with other children five:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, why," she asked, "are the strong removed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the feeble left alive?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But where is the good of asking</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When our helpers disappear?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That question never was answered yet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And it never will be, here.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There was little time to sit and weep;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She must rise, and bear the strain;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Alone she stood, with the home to keep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the children's bread to gain.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The best of herself had gone with him;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had no more faith nor trust:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She could not bow to the Lord's decree,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For she felt it all unjust.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The good Lord cares for a widow's need,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But on Him she did not call.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She laboured hard, and she fought with fate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they lived—but that was all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She fought her battle with fate, and failed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As many have failed before;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If against the thorns we push and press,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They will only prick the more.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She could not bear with the children now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she called them rude and wild;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Forgetting quite, in her sullen grief,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That she had been once a child.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Yes, wild they were; and like all wild things</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They were light and swift and strong;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her poor, sick spirit turned away</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the gay, unruly throng.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They swam the river, they climbed the trees,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They were full of life and play;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But oft, when their mother's voice they heard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They hid from her sight away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They did not love her, and that she knew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And of that she oft complained;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But not by threats nor by angry words</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could the children's love be gained.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Respect and honour we may command;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They will come at duty's call:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But love, the beautiful thornless rose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Grows wild, when it grows at all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And she grew bitter, as time went on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Grew bitter and hard and sore.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till one day she cried in her despair,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I can bear my life no more!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Look down from Heaven, good Lord, and see</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And pity my cruel fate!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, come, and in mercy take away</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My burden, for 't is too great!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"My heart is breaking with all its load,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I feel my life decline;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Never I think did the woman live</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who has borne a cross like mine!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>To her cry for help an answer came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And solemn it was, and strange!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For a silence deep around her fell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the place seemed all to change.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She stood in a sad and sombre room,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where from ceiling down to floor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Along the wall and on every side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were crosses—nothing more.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There were crosses old, and crosses new,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were crosses large and small;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in their midst there was One who stood</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the Master of them all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Before His presence her eyes dropped low,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her wild complaining died;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For she knew the cross that He had borne</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was greater than all beside.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And He bade her choose, and take away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From among the many there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Another cross, in exchange for hers,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That she found too great to bear.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She looked for those that were least in size,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she quickly lifted one;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But oh, 't was heavy, and pained her more</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than her own had ever done!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She laid it back with a trembling hand—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"And whose cross is that?" she cried;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For heavier 't is than even mine!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a solemn voice replied:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"That cross belongs to a maiden young,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But of youth she little knows;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the days to her are days of pain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the night brings scant repose.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"A helpless, suffering, useless thing!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her pain will never cease,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till death in pity will come one day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her troubles end in peace.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She never has walked the pleasant fields,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor has sat beneath the trees;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The hospital wall that shuts her in</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is the only world she sees.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She has no mother, she has no home,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And in strangers' hands she lies;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With none to care for her while she lives,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor weep for her when she dies."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But why is the cross so small, my Lord,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And why does her heart not break?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"She counts it little," the answer came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For she bears it for my sake."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The widow blushed with a sudden shame;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To her eyes the tears arose:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She dried them soon, and again she turned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And another cross she chose.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It fell from her hand against the wall,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she let it there remain:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"That cross shall never be mine," she said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Though I take my own again!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And whose is this that I cannot hold?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For it seems to burn my hand!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And never, I think, was heart so strong</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That could such a weight withstand."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The cross it is of a gentle wife,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she wears it all unseen;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With early sorrow her hair is white,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she keeps a smile serene.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She gave her heart to an evil man,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she thought him good and true;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And long she trusted and long believed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But at last the truth she knew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She knows that his soul is stained with crime,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the worst she still conceals;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Abuse and terror her sole reward,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the Lord knows what she feels!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She cannot leave him, for love dies hard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her children bear his name;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she prays for grace, to keep and guard</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their innocent lives from shame.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She trembles oft when his step she hears</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On a lonely winter night;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she hides her frightened babes afar</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From their cruel father's sight.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And she dares not even hope for death,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though his hand might set her free:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T were well for her in the grave to rest;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But where would the children be?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The widow shuddered, her face grew pale,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she no more turned to look:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She reached her hand to the wall near by,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a cross by chance she took.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was not so large as the first had been,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But it seemed a fearful weight!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"And whose am I holding now?" she asked,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For it did not look so great.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"A mother's cross is the one you bear,"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So the voice in answer said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"And she once had children six like you;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But her children all are dead.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"She has all besides that earth can give;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She has friends and wealth to spare,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And house and land—but she counts them not,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the children are not there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Time passes slowly, and she grows old;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she may not yet depart.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In lonely splendour she counts the years,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With an empty, hungry heart.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And she knows by whom the cross was sent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she tries her head to bow;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But six green mounds by the churchyard wall</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are the most she cares for now."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The widow thought of her own wild brood,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she felt a creeping chill:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, "Oh, give me back my cross!" she said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I will keep and bear it still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Forgive me, Lord" (and with that she knelt,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And for very shame she wept).</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I know my sin, that I could not bow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor Thy holy will accept.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, give me patience, for life is hard;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the daily strength I need!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And by Thy grace I will try to bear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The burden for me decreed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I'll change my ways with the children now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though they give me added cares.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Poor babes! I know, if they love me not,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the blame is mine, not theirs!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She kept her word as the weeks went on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she fought with fate no more:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was now with a patient, humble heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That her daily cross she bore.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The children wondered to see her change</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So greatly in look and speech!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She met them now with a smile so kind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a gentle word for each.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And soon they learned, from her altered ways,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What her words had vainly taught;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Their love, that long she had claimed in vain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Came back to her all unsought.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There were merry shouts and dancing feet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the mother came in sight;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were little arms around her thrown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were eyes with joy alight.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>With love for teacher, they learned to help,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was work for fingers small:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her heart grew soft like the earth in spring,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she thanked the Lord for all!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Her girls so pretty, her boys so brave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And so helpful all and kind!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She wondered often, and thought with shame</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of how she had once repined.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For in their presence she oft forgot</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her burden of want and care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Forgot her trouble—forgot, almost,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That she had a cross to bear!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="suora-marianna"><span class="bold large">Suora Marianna</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Suora Marianna</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Little children, will you listen to a simple tale of mine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That I learned at San Marcello, in the Tuscan Apennine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From an agèd, saintly woman, gone to heaven long ago?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It has helped me on my journey, and as yet you cannot know</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Half the wisdom stored within it, nor the comfort it can give;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But still, try and not forget it! You will need it if you live,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And some day, when life is waning and your hands begin to tire,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You will think of Marianna, and her vision by the fire.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In a convent, old and quiet, near a little country town,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On a chestnut-shaded hillside, to the river sloping down,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Dwelt a few of those good sisters who go out among the poor,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who must labour late and early, and much weariness endure;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the one who did in patience and in all good works excel</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was the Sister Marianna, she whose story now I tell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She was ever kind and willing, for each heavy task prepared:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No one ever thought to spare her, and herself she never spared.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All unpraised and all unnoticed, bearing burdens not her own,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet she lived as rich and happy as a queen upon her throne!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She was rich, though few would think it; for God gave her grace to choose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not the world's deceitful riches, but the wealth one cannot lose.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There are many heap up treasure, but it is not every one</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who will take his treasure with him when his earthly life is done.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Was she beautiful? I know not. She had eyes of peaceful light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her face looked sweet and blooming in its frame of linen white.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the sick and heavy-hearted she was pleasant to behold,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she seemed a heavenly vision to the feeble and the old.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She was happy when she wandered up the wandering mountain road,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Bearing food and warmth and blessing to some desolate abode,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though the ice-cold winds were blowing and her woman's strength was tried;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For she knew who walked there with her, in her heart and by her side.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She was happy—oh, so happy!—in her little whitewashed cell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Looking out among the branches, where they gave her leave to dwell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In her scanty hours of leisure; for there, looking from the wall,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were the dear and holy faces that she loved the best of all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was an old and faded picture, poorly painted at the best,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of Our Lord, the Holy Infant, in His Mother's arms at rest.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But her faith and loving fancy had a glory to it lent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the faces that she saw there were not what the artist meant</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the wooden shelf before it she would often-times adorn</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the buttercup and bluebell, and the wild rose from the thorn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which she gathered, when returning, while the morning dew was bright,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From some home, remote and lonely, where she watched the sick by night.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So her life was full of sunshine, for in toiling for the Lord</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had found the hidden sweetness that in common things lies stored:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He has strewn the earth with flowers, and each eye their brightness sees;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But He filled their cups with honey, for His humble working bees.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But there came a time—poor sister!—when her rosy cheek grew pale,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her eyes, with all their sunlight, seemed to smile as through a veil;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her step was weak and heavy, as she trod the steep ascent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where through weeks of wintry weather to her loving work she went.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a foot-path, lone and narrow, winding up among the trees,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 't was hard to trace in winter, when the slippery ground would freeze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the snow fall thick above it, hiding every sign and mark;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she went that way so often she could climb it in the dark!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was to nurse a poor young mother, by fierce malady assailed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That she made the daily journey, and she never once had failed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now the short sharp days were over, and the spring had just begun;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Every morn the light came sooner, and more strength was in the sun.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>All around the grass was springing, and its tender verdure spread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Mid the empty burrs of chestnuts, and the old leaves, brown and dead,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Low and small, but creeping, creeping till it almost touched the edge</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the daily lessening snow-drifts, under rock or thorny hedge.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the wreck of last year's autumn life awakened, strong and new,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the buds were crowding upward, though as yet the flowers were few.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Many nights had she been watching, and with little rest by day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her heart was in the chamber where that helpless woman lay;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There the flame of life she cherished, when it almost ceased to burn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Praying God to help and keep them till the husband should return.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was the old and common story, such as all of us can hear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If we care to, in the mountains, every day throughout the year!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She who languished, weak and wasting, in the garret chamber there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had been once as strong and happy as the wild birds in the air.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had been a country beauty, for the boys to serenade;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the poets sang about her, in the simple rhymes they made,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And with glowing words compared her to the lilies as they grew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or to stars, or budding roses, as their manner is to do.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then the man who played at weddings with his ancient violin,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his sad, impassioned singing, had contrived her heart to win;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And one brilliant April morning he had brought her home, a bride,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To his farm and low-built cottage on the mountain's terraced side.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a poor, rough home to look at, and from neighbours far away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But with love and health and music there was much to make it gay.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They were happy, careless people, and they thought not to complain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though the door were cracked and broken, or the roof let in the rain:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They could pile the fire with branches, while the winter storms swept by;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For the rest, their life was mostly out beneath the open sky.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Time had come, and brought its changes,—sunshine first, and then the shade,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Frost untimely, chestnuts blighted. Sickness came, and debts were made;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fields were sold, alas, to pay them; yet their troubles did not cease,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the poor man's heart was troubled thus to see his land decrease!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fields were gone, and bread was wanting, for there now were children small;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Much he loved them, much he laboured—but he could not feed them all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So he left them, heavy-hearted, and his fortune went to try</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the low Maremma country, where men gain or where they die,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With its soft and treacherous beauty, with its fever-laden air;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But as yet the fever spared him, and they hoped it yet would spare.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a long and cruel winter in the home he left behind:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Lonely felt the house without him, and the young wife moped and pined:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still her children's love sustained her, till this sickness laid her low;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When good Sister Marianna came to nurse her, as you know.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Week on week had hope been waning, as more feeble still she grew:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Marianna tried, but vainly, every simple cure she knew.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then the doctor gave up hoping, and his long attendance ceased:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I can do no more," he told her; "you had better call the priest.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To her husband I have written; he will have the news to-day:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If he cares again to see her, he had best be on his way!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now the priest has done his office; at the open door he stands,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he says to Marianna: "I can leave her in your hands,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I have other work that calls me; if to-night she chance to die,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You can say the prayers, good sister, for her soul as well as I."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So they left her, all unaided, in the house forlorn and sad,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still to watch and think and labour with what failing strength she had.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was none to share her burden, none to speak to, none to see—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Save a helpful boy of seven, and a restless one of three,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And their little dark-eyed sister (she was five, and came between),</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a baby, born that winter, which the father had not seen.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Two days more! Her friend lay sleeping, and she watched beside the bed:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In her arms she rocked the baby, while the Latin prayers she said,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Prayers to help a soul departing;—yet she never quite despaired!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Might not yet the Lord have pity, and that mother's life be spared?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was so hard to see her going—such a mother, kind and dear!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was ne'er another like her in the country, far or near!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(So thought Sister Marianna.) Yet to murmur were a sin.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But her tears kept rising, rising, though she tried to hold them in,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till one fell and lay there shining, on the head that she caressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Small and pretty, dark and downy, lying warm against her breast,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She was silent; something moved her that had neither place nor part</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the grave and stately cadence of the prayers she knew by heart.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then she spoke, with eyes dilated, with her soul in every word,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As to one she saw before her—"Thou hast been a child, my Lord!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thou hast lain as small and speechless as this infant on my knees;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thou hast stretched toward Thy Mother little helpless hands like these:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thou hast known the wants of children, then— Oh, listen to my plea,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For one moment, Lord, remember what Thy Mother was to Thee!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Think, when all was dark around Thee how her love did Thee enfold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How she tended, how she watched Thee; how she wrapped Thee from the cold!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How her gentle heart was beating, on that night of tears and strife,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the cruel guards pursued Thee, when King Herod sought Thy life!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How her arms enclosed and hid Thee, through that midnight journey wild!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, for love of Thine own Mother, save the mother of this child!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now she paused and waited breathless; for she seemed to know and feel</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the Lord was there, and listened to her passionate appeal.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then she bowed her head, all trembling; but a light was in her eye,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her soul had heard the answer: that young mother would not die!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yes, the prayer of faith had saved her! And a change began that day:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When she woke her breath was easy, and the pain had passed away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So the day that dawned so sadly had a bright and hopeful close,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a solemn, sweet thanksgiving from the sister's heart arose.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now the night had closed around them, and a lonesome night it seemed!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the sky was black and starless, and for hours the rain had streamed:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the wind and rain together made a wild and mournful din,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As they beat on door and window, madly struggling to come in.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Marianna, faint and weary with the strain of many days,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the broad stone hearth was kneeling, while she set the fire ablaze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the poor lone soul she cared for would, ere morning, need to eat.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Now, God help me," said the sister, "this night's labour to complete!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a meal she knew would please her, which she lovingly prepared,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of that best and chosen portion, from the convent table spared,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which she brought, as was her habit, with much other needed store,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the worn old willow basket, standing near her on the floor.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>On her work was much depending, so she planned to do her best;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she set the earthen pitcher on the coals as in a nest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the embers laid around it; then she thought again, and cast</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the pile a few gray ashes, that it might not boil too fast.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the touch of sleep was on her, she was dreaming while she planned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the wooden spoon kept falling from her limp and listless hand.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then she roused her, struggling bravely with this languor, which she viewed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As a snare, a sore temptation, to be fought with and subdued.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But another fear assailed her—what if she should faint or fall?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And to-night the storm-swept cottage seems so far away from all!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How the fitful wind is moaning! And between the gusts that blow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She can hear the torrent roaring, in the deep ravine below.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And her head is aching strangely, as it never did before:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Good Lord, help me!" she is saying: "this can last but little more!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O my blessèd Lord and Master, only help me through the night—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only keep my eyes from closing till they see the morning light!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For that mother and that baby do so weak and helpless lie,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And with only me to serve them,—if I leave them, they may die!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She is better—yes, I know it, but a touch may turn the scale.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I can send for help to-morrow, but to-night I must not fail!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was in vain; for sleep had conquered, and the words she tried to say</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>First became a drowsy murmur, then grew faint and died away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she slept as sleep the weary, heedless how the night went on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With her pitcher all untended, with her labour all undone;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the wall her head reclining, in the chimney's empty space,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While the firelight flared and flickered on her pale and peaceful face.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was her humble prayer unanswered? Oh, the Lord has many a way</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That His children little think of, to send answers when they pray!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It was long she sat there sleeping—do you think her work was spoiled?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No, the fir-wood fire kept burning, and the pitcher gently boiled:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ne'er a taint of smoke had touched it, nor one precious drop been spilt;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When she moved and looked around her, with a sudden sense of guilt.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But her eyes, when first they opened, saw a vision, strange and sweet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For a little Child was standing on the hearth-stone at her feet.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And He seemed no earthly infant, for His robe was like the snow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a glory shone about Him that was not the firelight glow.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And Himself her work was doing! For He kept the fire alive,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And He watched the earthen pitcher, that no danger might arrive</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the simple meal, now ready, with the coals around it piled;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then He turned His face toward her, and she knew the Holy Child.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was her Lord who stood before her! And she did not shrink nor start—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was more of joy than wonder in her all-believing heart.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When her willing hands were weary, when her patient eyes were closed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had finished all she failed in, He had watched while she reposed.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Do you ask of His appearance? Human words are weak and cold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T is enough to say she knew Him—that is all she ever told.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yes, as you and I will know Him when that happy day shall come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When, if we on earth have loved Him, He will bid us welcome home!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But with that one look He left her, and the vision all had passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(Though the peace it left within her to her dying hour would last!)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Storm had ceased, and wind was silent, there was no more sound of rain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the morning star was shining through the window's broken pane.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Later, when the sun was rising, Marianna looked to see,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O'er the stretch of rain-washed country, what the day was like to be,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While the door she softly opened, letting in the morning breeze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As it shook the drops by thousands from the wet and shining trees.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she saw the sky like crystal, for the clouds had rolled away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though they lay along the valleys, in their folds of misty grey,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or to mountain sides were clinging, tattered relics of the storm.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And among the trees below her she could see a moving form;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was the husband home returning, yes, thank God! he came at last:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was no one else would hasten up that mountain road so fast.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now the drooping boughs concealed him, now he came in sight again;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All night long had he been walking in the darkness, in the rain;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the miles of ghostly forest, through the villages asleep,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had borne his burden bravely, till he reached that hillside steep;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And as yet he seemed not weary, for his springing step was light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But his face looked worn and haggard with the anguish of the night.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now his limbs began to tremble, and he walked with laboured breath,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he saw his home before him, should he find there life or death?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How his heart grew faint within him as he neared the wished-for place!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One step more, his feet had gained it, they were standing face to face.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"God has helped us!" was her answer to the question in his eye;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her smile of comfort told him that the danger had gone by.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It was morning now, fair morning! and the broken sunlight fell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the boughs that crossed above her, where the buds began to swell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As adown the sloping pathway, that her feet so oft had pressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Went the Sister Marianna to her convent home to rest.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It was spring that breathed around her, for the winter strove no more,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the snowdrifts all had vanished with the rain the night before.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now a bee would flit beside her, as she lightly moved along;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or a bird among the branches tried a few low notes of song.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But her heart had music sweeter than the bird-notes in her ears!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She was leaving joy behind her in that home of many tears:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Hope was there, and health returning; there were happy voice and smile,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the father at his coming had brought plenty for a while.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she knew with whom she left them, for herself His care had proved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When her mortal eyes were opened, and she saw the face she loved,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On that night of storm and trouble, when to help her He had come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As He helped His own dear Mother in their humble earthly home.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>As she went the day grew warmer; sweeter came the wild bird's call;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then, what made her start and linger? 'T was a perfume, that was all:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Faint, but yet enough to tell her that the violets were in bloom;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she turned aside to seek them, for that picture in her room.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-lupins"><span class="bold large">The Lupins</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The simple story of "The Lupins" is very -commonly known among the country people, who -often quote it as a remedy for discontent.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Lupins</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a day in late November,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the fruits were gathered in;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Day to dream in, and remember</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All the beauty that had been.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Peacefully the year was dying;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Soft the air, and deep the blue;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Brown and bare the fields were lying,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the summer harvest grew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Autumn flowers had bloomed and seeded;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet a few of humblest kind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Waiting till they most were needed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Brought the pleasant days to mind.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Here and there a red-tipped daisy</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still its small bright face would show;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While above the distance hazy</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Rose the mountains, white with snow.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>With a light subdued and tender,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shone the sun on vale and hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the faded autumn splendour</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Left a sober sweetness still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>By a road that wandered, winding,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Far among the hills away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Walked a man, despondent, finding</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Little comfort in the day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Pale of tint and fine of feature,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Formed with less of strength than grace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Seldom went a sadder creature,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Seeking work from place to place.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He from noble race descended,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Heir to wealth and honoured name,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who had oft the poor befriended</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When about his door they came,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>By a brother's evil doing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had to poverty been brought:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now his listless way pursuing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ever on the past he thought.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He, to hope no longer clinging,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Drifted, led he knew not where,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By a sound of far-off singing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Floating in the dreamy air,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Many voices sweetly blending,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Sounding o'er the hills remote,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Every verse the same, and ending</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In one plaintive, long-drawn note.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Olive gatherers, I know them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Singing songs from tree to tree;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If the road will lead me to them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There are food and work for me."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He a humble meal was making,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he warmed him in the sun;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From his pocket slowly taking</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yellow lupins, one by one.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Most forlorn he felt and lonely,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he ate them on the way;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For those lupins, and they only,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were his food for all the day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Since to shame his brother brought him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Want had often pressed him sore;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet misfortune never brought him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Quite so low as this before!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"If my lot be hard and painful,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There 's one comfort still for me;"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(Said he, with a smile disdainful,)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Poorer, I can never be.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"There's no lower step to stand on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No more burning shame to feel:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not a crust to lay my hand on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only lupins for a meal!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He could see the laden table</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where his parents used to dine:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Well for them who were not able</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then the future to divine.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, but he was glad God took them</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ere they saw him fall so low:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How their cherished hope forsook them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They had never lived to know.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I, so dearly loved and cared for,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I, on whom such hopes were built,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whom such blessings were prepared for—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ruined by a brother's guilt!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now he wrung his hands despairing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Stamped his foot upon the ground;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Bitter thoughts his heart were tearing,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When he heard a footstep sound.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then he started, sobered quickly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Took an attitude sedate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With that terror, faint and sickly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which he often felt of late.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>What if some old friend should find him?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he turned, the story tells,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he saw a man behind him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Picking up the lupin shells;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Picking up the shells and eating</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What the other cast away.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now abashed, their eyes were meeting:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a beggar, worn and gray,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Hollow-eyed and thin and wasted;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By his look you might suppose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had ne'er a morsel tasted</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Since the sun that morning rose.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Stood the younger man astonished,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And no more bewailed his fate;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Only bowed his head, admonished</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By the sight of want so great.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then he said: "Come here, my brother,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the lupins we will share;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Maybe, if we help each other,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>God will have us in His care."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Thank the Lord! and you, kind master!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>May He help you in your need;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Save your soul from all disaster</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And remember your good deed!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Said the beggar, smiling brightly.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the other thus replied,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Now content, and walking lightly</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By his poorer neighbour's side,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Friend, you have a blessing brought me.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I thank you in my turn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For a lesson you have taught me</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which I needed much to learn.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And henceforth will I endeavour</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not to pine for fortune high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But remember there is ever</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Some one lower down than I.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But alas, when I was younger,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Wealth and honoured state were mine;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shame, my friend, is worse than hunger:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T is for this that I repine."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then the beggar rose up stately,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Looked the other in the face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Saying (for he wondered greatly),</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Poverty is no disgrace;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"For our Lord, I think, was poorer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Once than you or even I,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And His poor of Heaven are surer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than the rich who pass them by."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So the two went on together,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Casting on the Lord their care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Happy in the balmy weather,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Happy in their simple fare.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now an ancient olive o'er them</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Threw its slender lines of shade,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Bending low its boughs before them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Silver-leafed that cannot fade;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Bearing fruit in winter season,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still through every change the same:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Tree of peace—they had good reason</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who have called it by that name!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And with that the story leaves them;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You can end it as you please:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gain that cheers, or loss that grieves them,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Life of toil, or life of ease.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Did some fortune unexpected</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Give to one his wealth again?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or did both, forlorn, neglected,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>End their days in want and pain?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Many years have they been dwelling</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where such trifles of the way</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are not counted worth the telling!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Both are with the Lord to-day.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He in whom their souls confided</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did for both a home prepare;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet that humble meal divided</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Gives a blessing even there.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-silver-cross"><span class="bold large">The Silver Cross</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The story of "St. Caterina of Siena and her Silver -Cross" is one of her many visions, recorded by -her confessor.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Silver Cross</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Through the streets of old Siena, at the dawning of the day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Went the holy Caterina, as the bells began to sound;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the light of peace celestial in her eyes of olive gray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For her soul was with the angels, while her feet were on the ground.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>She was fair as any lily, with as delicate a grace;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the air of early morning had just tinged her cheek with rose:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet one hardly thought of beauty in that pale, illumined face,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the souls in trouble turned to, finding comfort and repose.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And the men their heads uncovered, though they dared not speak her praise,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When they saw her like a vision down the row street descend;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they wondered what she looked at, with that far-off dreamy gaze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While her lips were often moving, as though talking to a friend.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There were few abroad so early, and she scarcely heard a sound,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Save the cooing of the pigeons, as about her feet they strayed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or the bell that sweetly called her to the church where she was bound;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While the palaces around her stood in silence and in shade.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And the towers built for warfare rose about her, dark and proud,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But their summits caught a glory, as the morning onward came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the summer sky beyond them was alight with fleecy cloud,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the gray of dawn was changing, first to rose and then to flame.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>By a shrine of the Madonna, at a corner where she passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Stood a stranger leaning on it, as though weary and forlorn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a bundle slung behind him and a cloak about him cast;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he shivered in the freshness of the pleasant summer morn.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Said the stranger, "Will you help me?" and she looked on him and knew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By his hand that trembled feebly as he held it out for aid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By his eyes that were so heavy, and his lips of ashen hue,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the terrible Maremma had its curse upon him laid.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So she listened to his story, that was pitiful to hear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of a widowed mother waiting on the mountain for her son;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How to help her he had laboured till the summer time drew near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And of how the fever took him just before his work was done.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He was young and he was hopeful, and the smile began to come</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his eyes, as though they thanked her for the pity she bestowed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he said: "I shall recover if I reach my mountain home,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And if some good Christian people will but help me on the road.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"For I go to Casentino, where the air is pure and fine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But my strength too often fails me, and the place is far away;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So I pray you give me something, for a little bread and wine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That I may not set out fasting on my weary walk to-day."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then a certain faint confusion with her pity seemed to blend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her face, so sweet and saintly, showed the shadow of a cloud,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As she said: "I am no lady, though you call me so, my friend,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But a poor Domenicana who to poverty am vowed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I can give a prayer to help you on your journey, nothing more,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For these garments I am wearing are the sisterhood's, not mine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the very bread they gave me when I left the convent door</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To a beggar by the wayside I this morning did consign.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I would give you all you ask for if I had it to command."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then she sighed and would have left him, but the stranger made her stay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he held her by the mantle, with his cold and wasted hand:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For the love of Christ, my lady, do not send me thus away!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He had used the name unthinking, but it moved her none the less,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she turned again toward him, with a softened, solemn air,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While her hand began to wander up and down her simple dress,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As though vaguely it were seeking for some trifle she could spare.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then the rosary she lifted that was hanging at her waist,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And its silver cross unfastened, which was small and very old,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the edges worn and rounded and the image half effaced,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet she loved it more than lady ever loved a cross of gold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It had been her life companion, in the tempest, in the calm;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She had held it to her bosom when she prayed with troubled mind;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she kissed it very gently, as she laid it in his palm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For the love of Christ, then, take it; 'tis the only thing I find."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So he thanked her and departed, and she thought of him no more,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Save to ask the Lord to help him, when that day in church she prayed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the cross of Caterina on his heart the stranger wore,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And her presence unforgotten like a blessing with him stayed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now the city life is stirring, and the streets are in the sun,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the bells ring out their music o'er the busy town again,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the people slowly scatter from the church where Mass is done;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the blessèd Caterina in her seat did still remain.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For the sleep divine was on her, which so often to her came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When of mortal life the shadow from around her seemed to fall;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she looked on things celestial with her happy soul aflame:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But that day the dream that held her was the sweetest of them all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For the Lord appeared in glory, and he seemed to her to stand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In a chamber filled with treasures such as eye had never seen;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a cross of wondrous beauty He was holding in His hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Set with every stone most precious and with pearls of light serene.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And He told her that those treasures were the presents He received</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the souls on earth who love Him, and are seeking Him to please.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were they deeds of noble service? that was what she first believed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she thought, "What happy people who can bring Him gifts like these!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For herself could offer nothing, and she sighed to think how far</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the best she ever gave him were the gems in that bright store.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But He held the cross toward her, that was shining like a star,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And He bade her look and tell Him had she seen it e'er before.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"No," she answered humbly, "never did my eyes the like behold."</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But a flood of sudden sweetness came upon her like a wave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For she saw among the jewels and the work of beaten gold</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was the little Cross of Silver that for love of Christ she gave.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And I think her dream that morning was a message from above,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That a proof of deepest meaning we might learn and understand,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though our very best be worthless that we give for Jesus' love,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It will change and turn to glory when He takes it in His hand.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-tears-of-repentance"><span class="bold large">The Tears of Repentance</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE TEARS OF REPENTANCE I found in a -book called </span><em class="italics">Maraviglie di Dio ne' Suoi Santi</em><span>, by the -Jesuit Father, Padre Carlo Gregorio Rosignoli, printed -at Bologna in 1696. He says it was written originally -by Theophilus Raynaudus.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Tears of Repentance</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">PART FIRST</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MOUNTAIN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A wild, sad story I tell to-day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And I pray you to listen all!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You cannot think how my heart is moved</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the legend I recall,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The legend that made me weep so oft,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When I was a child like you!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I tell it now, in my life's decline,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And it brings the tears anew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>It came to us down through ages long;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For this story had its scene</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the far-away, gorgeous, stormy days</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the empire Byzantine.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And it tells of a famous mountain chief,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A terrible, fierce brigand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who ravaged the country, far and wide,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At the head of an armèd band.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So hard of heart was this evil man</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That he spared not young nor old:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He killed and plundered, and burned and spoiled,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his maddening thirst for gold;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Would come with a swoop on a merchant troop,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That peacefully went its way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the counted gains of a journey long</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were scattered in one short day!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He knew no pity, he owned no law,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor human, nor yet divine;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would take the gold from a Prince's chest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or the lamp from a wayside shrine.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In hidden valley, in wild ravine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On desolate, heath-grown hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He buried his treasure away from sight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And most of it lies there still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And none were free in that land to dwell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Except they a tribute paid;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the robber chief, who was more than king,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had this burden on them laid.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>If any dared to resist the claim,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was met with vengeance dire;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His lands were wasted before the dawn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his harvest burned with fire.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And some day maybe himself was slain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And left in the road to lie;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To fill with terror the quaking heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the next who journeyed by.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And many fled to the towns afar,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And their fields were left untilled;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While want and trouble and trembling fear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had the stricken country filled.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>High up on a mountain's pathless side</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had the robber made his den,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In a rocky cave, where he reigned supreme</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Over twenty lawless men.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A price had long on his head been set,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But for that he little cared;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For few were they who could climb the way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And fewer were those who dared.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For those who hunted him long before</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had a fearful story brought:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They were not men on the mountain side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But demons who with them fought!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For horrible forms arose, they said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As if from the earth they grew;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And rolled down rocks from the cliffs above</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On any who might pursue.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>From town to town and from land to land,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had his evil fame been spread;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And voices lowered and lips grew grave</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the hated name they said.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The people's heart had grown faint with fear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they thought no hope remained;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But hope again on their vision dawned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the Emperor's ear they gained.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Mauritius reigned o'er the nations then;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was great in warlike fame,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he was not one to shrink or quake</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At a mountain bandit's name.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He sent a band of a hundred strong</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the troubled land's release,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To kill the man and his bloody crew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And to give the country peace.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For what was a robber chief to him?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had conquered mighty kings;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He gave the order, and then 't was done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he thought of other things.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But few, alas, of that troop returned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they told a ghostly tale;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And women wept, and the strongest men,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As they heard, grew mute and pale.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Those soldiers oft in the war had been,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they counted danger light;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From mortal foe had they never turned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But with demons who could fight?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The Emperor silent was and grave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his thoughts were deep and wise;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He saw that the robber chief was one</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whom he could not well despise.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There might be reason in what they said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the demons gave him aid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And earthly weapon would ne'er be found</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That could make such foes afraid.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But yet they will flee from sacred things,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the martyred saints, he knew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Have holy virtue, that to them clings,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That can all their spells undo.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But how could such weapon reach the soul</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That for years had owned their sway?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A question grave that he pondered long;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But at length he found a way.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A reliquary he made prepare;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It was all of finest gold:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For as monarch might with monarch treat,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He would serve this bandit bold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The gold was his, but the work he gave</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the skilled and patient hand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of an artist monk, who counted then</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the first in all the land.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Now see him close to his labour bent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In a cell remote and high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where all he saw of the world without</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was a square of roof and sky.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A holy man was this artist monk,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And for gain he did not ask,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If only the Lord his work would bless,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his heart was in the task.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And day by day from his touch came forth</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The image of holy things;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The cross was there, and the clustered vine,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the dove with outspread wings,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The dove that bore in her golden beak</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The olive in sign of peace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And still, as he wrought, his hand kept time</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the prayer that would not cease!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For pity stirred in him when he thought</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of that dark and stormy breast,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So hard, so hopeless, from God so far,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the little shrine would rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And perhaps if angels were looking on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(And I doubt not some were there!)</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They saw that the work was sown with pearls,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And each pearl a burning prayer.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So weeks went on, and the shrine was done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And within it, sealed and closed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were holy relics of martyred saints</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who near in the church reposed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And trusted messengers bore it forth</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the distant mountain land;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With such a weapon they need not fear;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They could meet the famed brigand.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was winter now on the mountain-side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the way was long and hard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the faithful envoys upward toiled</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In their bandit escort's guard,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Toiled up to a grove of ancient firs,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For that was the place designed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where, after parley and long delay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had the meeting been combined.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>No sound but their feet that crushed the snow,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the world looked sad and dead;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They thought of lives on the mountain lost,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And it was not much they said.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The sun, as it shone with slanting ray</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the stripped and silent trees,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could melt but little the clinging ice</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Which to-night again would freeze.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They reached the grove, and the chief was there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like a king in savage state;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Erect and fearless, above them all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While his men around him wait.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He stood before them like what he was,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A terrible beast of prey;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But even tigers have something grand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he looked as grand as they.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But, oh, the look that he on them turned!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It was fearful to behold;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It chilled their hearts, but they did not shrink,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For their faith had made them bold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And looking straight in those gloomy eyes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With their hard and cruel glare,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"We come," said one, "in the Emperor's name,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And from him a token bear."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then said the chief, with a mocking smile,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"And what may my Lord command?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And made a sign with his evil eye,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the men on guard to stand.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>No faith had he in a tale so wild,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he somewhat feared a snare;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There might be others in hiding near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he did not greatly care.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then forth came he who the relics bore,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a prudent man and brave,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And into the hand that all men feared,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He the holy token gave.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"This gift to you has the Emperor sent,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In token of his good will,"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He said; and at first the fierce brigand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Stood in wonder, hushed and still.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>What felt he then as that holy thing</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his guilty hand he took?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What changed his face for a moment's time</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To an almost human look?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There lay the shrine in his open palm.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet he thought it could not be:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"For me?" he asked, but his voice was strange.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And again he said, "for me?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Three times the messenger told his tale,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he said 't was all he knew;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The bandit looked at the wondrous work,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he could not doubt 't was true.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So over his neck the chain he hung,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The shrine on his bosom lay</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With all its wealth of a thousand prayers;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they were not cast away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Day followed day in the bandit's cave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And a restless man was he;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A heart so hard and so proud as his</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the saints could ill agree.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The holy relics that on it lay</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did a strange confusion make;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In all that most he had loved before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He could no more pleasure take.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A charm there was in the golden shrine</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That had all his soul possessed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He sat and looked at each sacred sign</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a dreamy sense of rest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was not the gold that could soothe him thus,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And 't was not the work so fine:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was the holy soul of the artist monk,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For it lived in every line.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Like one who sleeps when the day begins,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And, before his slumbers end,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The morning light and the morning sounds</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his dreaming fancies blend;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So now and then would his heart be stirred</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By a feeling strange and new,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And thoughts he never had known before</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his mind unconscious grew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Till on a sudden his blinding pride,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like a bubble, failed and broke;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With eyes wide open, the guilty man</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From his life-long dream awoke.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>From graves forgotten his crimes came forth,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his face they seemed to stare:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To all one day will such waking come;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>God grant it be here, not there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then wild remorse on his heart took hold,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And beneath its burning sting</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He shrank from himself as one might shrink</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From a venomous, hateful thing.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For scenes of blood from the years gone by</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Forever before him came;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He closed his eyes, and his face he hid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he saw them just the same.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And in the horror he dared not pray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he felt his soul accurst,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he feared to live, and he feared to die,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he knew not which was worst.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Yet far on high, and beyond his reach,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He could see a vision dim,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A far-off glory of peace and love;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he felt 't was not for him.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Awhile his trouble he hid from all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his will was iron strong,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But never was man, since man was made,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who could bear such torment long,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A strange, sick longing was growing up</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his spirit, day by day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A longing for what he most had feared,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To let justice have her way;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Until the will to a purpose grew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the Emperor's feet to fly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To own his sin without prayer or plea,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then give up all and die.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And so one night, without sound or word,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Away in the dark he stole,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all that he took for his journey long</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was the weight of a burdened soul.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They waited long in that den of crime,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But they saw their chief no more;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or dead or living, they found him not,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though they searched the mountain o'er.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And in the country, so long oppressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When his sudden flight was known,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They spoke of a wild and fearful night,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When the fiends had claimed their own.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And soon the tale to a legend turned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And men trembling used to tell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of how they carried him, body and soul,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the place where demons dwell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>His men, so bold, were in mortal fear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of what might themselves befall;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So some in a convent refuge sought,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the rest were scattered all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And no one climbed to their empty cave,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For 't was called a haunted place,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though soon the summer had swept away</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of its horror every trace,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And mountain strawberries nestled low,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And delicate harebells hung,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In beauty meek, from its broken arch,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the swallows reared their young.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But where had he gone, that man of woe?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had he found the rest he sought?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In haste he went, but with noiseless tread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As his bandit life had taught.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And going downward he met the spring,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With its mingled sun and showers;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But storms of winter he bore within,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he did not see the flowers.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And how did he live from day to day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the ceaseless strain endure?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Kind hearts there are that can feel for all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the poor will help the poor.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In frightened pity, a shepherd girl,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As she fled o'er the daisied grass,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would let the bread from her apron fall</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the turf where he should pass;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Or workmen, eating their noonday meal</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On a bank beside the way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Would give him food, but with outstretched arm,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And they asked him not to stay.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He went like a shadow taken shape</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From some vague and awful dream,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And word of comfort for him was none,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In his misery so extreme.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Alas, from himself he could not flee,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though he tried, poor haunted man;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he reached the city beside the sea,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the Holy Week began.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">PART SECOND</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was Sunday morn, and a hundred bells</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With their sweet and saintly sound</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were calling the people in to prayer</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the pleasant hills around,—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The morn when strivings should end in peace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And each wrong forgotten be,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That Holy Week may its blessing shed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Upon souls from discord free.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The streets were bright with a moving throng,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And before the palace gate,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With eager eyes and in garments gay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did a crowd expectant wait.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For the Emperor goes in solemn state,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With his court, like all the rest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To the church with many lamps ablaze,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where to-day the palms are blest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And stately ladies and timid girls,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In their modest plain attire,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From curtained windows are looking down,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the shifting scene admire.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They come, they come, from the cool deep shade</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the courtyard's marble arch,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The nobles all in their rich array,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the guards with sounding march.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And stay, the square is as still as death,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the Emperor passes now;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The girls at the window hold their breath,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the people bend and bow.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But who is this that among them moves</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With that quick and stately pace?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What see they all in his rigid look,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That they shrink and give him place?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Too late the guards would have barred the way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he darted swiftly by,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As hunted creatures, when hard beset,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To man in their terror fly.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And sinking low at the feet of him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had come so far to see,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He waited silent with folded hands,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nor asked what his fate should be.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Who are you, come in such deep distress,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And what is the grace you seek?"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The Emperor's voice was grave and kind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the stranger tried to speak.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The golden casket he raised in sight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While he bent his eyes for shame;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then said he, "I am that wicked man,"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he told the dreaded name.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A shudder fell upon all who heard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the people nearer drew;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From mouth to mouth, in a whisper low,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The name of the bandit flew.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>While he, uplifting those woful eyes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the boldness of despair,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With ne'er a thought of the crowd who heard,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His errand did thus declare:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I come not here to confess my sins,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For you know them all too well;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My crimes are many and black and great,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They are more than tongue can tell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But here at your feet my life I lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I have nothing else to give;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So now, if it please you, speak the word,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For I am not fit to live."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The words came straight from his broken heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In such sad and simple style,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the Emperor's firm, proud lips were moved</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To a somewhat softened smile.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For his warlike spirit felt the charm</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of that savage strength and grace,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the strange fierce beauty that lingered still</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the dark and troubled face.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>So grand of form and so lithe of limb,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And still in his manhood's prime,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T would be a pity for one like him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To perish before his time.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And 't was well to see him kneeling there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose terror had filled the land,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like a captive tiger, caught and tamed</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>By his own imperial hand.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Arise," he said, "you have nought to fear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Take comfort and go your way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And may God in heaven my sins forgive,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As I pardon yours to-day."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A murmur rose from the crowded square,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>At the sound of words like these;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For some rejoiced in the mercy shown,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And others it did not please.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Some thanked the Lord for the pardoned man,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And some were to scorn inclined;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And motherly women wiped their eyes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the women's hearts are kind.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"God bless our Emperor," many said;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But others began to frown.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And asked, "Will he turn this wild brigand</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Adrift in our peaceful town?"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>No word of thanks did the bandit say,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But he raised one shining fold</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the robe imperial, trailing low</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With its weight of gems and gold.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The border first to his lips he pressed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then to his heavy heart;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then rose and waited with bended head,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till he saw them all depart.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>No eye had he for the gorgeous train,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As along the square it passed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One stately presence was all he knew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he watched it till the last.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A heavy sigh, and he turned away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But with slow and weary tread;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No rest as yet on the earth for him,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Not even among the dead.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He lived, and he bore his burden still,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the dumb despair had ceased:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That word of mercy had brought a change,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he now had tears, at least;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He now could pray, though it brought not light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he seemed to ask in vain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his prayer had more of tears than words,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But it helped him bear the pain.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And oft in church did they see him kneel</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In some corner all alone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And weep till the great hot drops would fall</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the floor of varied stone.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And children clung to their mothers' hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When they saw that vision wild,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That haggard face, and that wasting form,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And those lips that never smiled.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But grief was wearing his life away,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And for him perhaps 't was well;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It was not long on the city street</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That his saddening shadow fell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A fever slowly within him burned,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till the springs of life were dry,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And glad he was when they laid him down</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On a hospital bed to die.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>His heart was broken, his strength was gone,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had no more wish to live;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He almost hoped that the Lord on high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Like the Emperor, might forgive;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>That somewhere down in the peaceful earth</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He should find a refuge yet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A place to rest and his eyes to close,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the woful past forget.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He could not lie where the others lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For such gloom around him spread,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That soon in a chamber far away</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Had they set his friendless bed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was there he suffered and wept and prayed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the eyes of all concealed:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Alas! but it takes a weary time</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For a life like his to yield.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The grand old hospital where he died</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was beneath the watchful care</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of a certain doctor, famed afar</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his skill and learning rare.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But more than learning and more than skill</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was his heart, so large and kind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That knew the trouble and felt the needs</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of the sick who near him pined.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>With conscience pure had he served the Lord</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From youth till his hair was grey,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yet only pity he felt, not scorn,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the many feet that stray.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>In troubled scenes had his life been passed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He was used to woe and sin,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And when men suffered he did not ask</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If their lives had blameless been.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>His part was but to relieve their pain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he helped and soothed and cheered;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But most he cared for the stricken man</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whom the others shunned and feared.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Each art to save him he tried in vain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And it could but useless prove,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For the poisoned thorn that pierced his heart</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Could no earthly hand remove,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>When hope had failed, he would kneel and pray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And his heart with tears outpour,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That God in mercy would comfort send</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To that soul in torment sore.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And though the burden he might not lift,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He could help its weight to bear;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He talked of mercy, of peace to come,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he bade him not despair.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And so, on the last sad night of all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was the brave, good doctor came</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To watch alone by the bandit's side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When he died of grief and shame.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The spring to summer was wearing on,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was the fairest night in May,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When sleep to those eyes in mercy came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the deadly strain gave way.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>No candle burned, for the moon was full,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the peaceful splendour fell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the open window, lighting all:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It was like a kind farewell.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And scents from the garden floated in,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the silent fireflies came,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And breathed and vanished, and breathed again,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With their soft mysterious flame.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The doctor watched with a heavy heart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His head on his hand was bowed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He thought how many his prayers had been,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But they could not lift the cloud.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was over now, there was nothing left</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For his pitying love to do;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The worn-out body would rest at last,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the guilty soul,—who knew?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>No more to do but to watch and wait</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till the failing breath should cease;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He longed, as the counted minutes flew,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For one parting smile of peace.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He looked: a handkerchief veiled the eyes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For they wept until the end,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And sadly still on the wasted cheek</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did a few slow drops descend.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The peace that oft to the dying comes</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Was to him as yet denied,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No sunset clear after stormy day,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And no brightening ere he died.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Alas! he will go away to-night,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And without one hopeful sign,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Away from pity, away from care,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And from such poor help as mine!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The doctor sighed, but he hoped as well,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For he said, "It cannot be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the Lord, who died for all, will have</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No mercy for such as he."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was then that sleep on the doctor fell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And before him stood revealed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In dreaming vision, a wondrous sight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From his waking eyes concealed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>For other watchers were in the room,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he knew the ghastly throng</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of demon spirits, the very same</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whom the man had served so long.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And two were leaning across the bed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And another pressed behind,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And some in the shadow waiting stood,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a chain his soul to bind.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But angels watched by the bedside too;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a strange and solemn scene,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The angels here and the demons there,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the dying man between.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The angels looked with a troubled gaze</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the face consumed with grief,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And over the pillow bent and swayed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As in haste to bring relief.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And one on the bowed and burdened head</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did a hand in blessing lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he said, "Poor soul, come home with us.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where the tears are wiped away."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Not so," cried one of the demon troop,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"He is black with every sin;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And you may not touch our lawful prey</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That we laboured years to win.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We bought his soul, and the price we paid,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And our part has well been done;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We helped him ever from crime to crime,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till his buried wealth was won;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And we almost thought him one of us,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He had so well learned our ways;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So go, for we do but seek our own,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And be done with these delays."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The angel said, "He has wept his sin,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As none ever wept before,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Has mourned till his very life gave way,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And what could a man do more?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And our Blessèd Lord, who pities all,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the sins of all has borne,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Will never His mercy turn away</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From a heart so bruised and torn."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But how? and shall mercy be for him</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who has mercy never shown?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Can his sorrow bring the dead to life,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or can tears for blood atone?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Is he to rest with the angels now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Has he done with tears and pain?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To-morrow morn he will wish he lay</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the hospital bed again;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"There is somewhat more to weep for down</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the place where he must stay!"</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The demon looked at his fiendish mates;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he laughed, and so did they.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And they gathered close, like hungry wolves,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In their haste to rend and tear;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But they could not touch the helpless head</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>While that strong white hand was there.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then out of the shadow one came forth,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'T was a demon great and tall;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>An iron balance he held on high,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As he stood before them all.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And fiercely he to the angels called,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"Do you dare to claim him still?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Then come, for the scales are in my hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We will weigh the good and ill."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And into the nearest scale he threw,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As he spoke, a parchment roll,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With on it a note of every sin</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That had stained the parting soul.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'T was closely written, without, within,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the balance downward flew</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And struck the ground with a blow, as though</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It would break the pavement through.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"He is ours forever," the demons said,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"If justice the world controls;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For sins so heavy do on him lie,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They would sink a hundred souls!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Come, hasten, angels, the time is short,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And words are of no avail;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Come, bring the note of your friend's good deeds,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To lay in the empty scale."</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The angels searched, but they searched in vain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There was no good deed to bring;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In all that ever that hand had done,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They could find no worthy thing.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>A taunting shout from the demons broke,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And each hard malignant face</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With joy and triumph was all aflame;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But the angels held their place,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Though dimness fell like a passing cloud</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On their pure and holy light;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And if ever angel eyes have tears,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There were some in theirs that night.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But he who had been the first to speak,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a glimmering hope possessed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Still sought some good that would turn the scale,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Though it seemed a useless quest.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He saw the handkerchief where it lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he raised it off the bed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All wet and clinging, and steeped in tears</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the dying eyes had shed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He turned around, but his face was pale,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the last poor chance he tried;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He laid it down in the empty scale,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he said, "Let God decide!"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>When, lo! it fell till it touched the earth,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And the demons stood dismayed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>It seemed so little and light a thing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But it all his sins outweighed.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>But who shall ever the anger tell</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of that black and hateful band,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When most in triumph they felt secure,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The prey had escaped their hand.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>They stood one moment in speechless rage,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then, with a fearful sound</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of shrieks and curses and rattling chains,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They vanished beneath the ground.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then holy peace on the chamber fell,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Till it flooded all the air;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The angels praised and they thanked the Lord,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Who so late had heard their prayer.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And their clouded glory shone again,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With a clear celestial ray,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the trembling soul, which that moment passed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>They bore in their arms away.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then through the room, as they took their flight,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Did a flood of music stream,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>So loud, so sweet, and so close at hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That it waked him from his dream.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>He looked around; there was nothing stirred</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In the empty, moonlit room,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Where a faint, sweet odour filled the air</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the orange-trees in bloom.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>And the notes divine he had thought to hear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were only the liquid flow</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of a nightingale's song, that came up clear</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the garden just below.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Then up from his seat the doctor rose,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he stood beside the bed;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He knew, when he touched the quiet hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That the poor brigand was dead.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>The handkerchief on the pillow lay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But its weary use was o'er,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And he raised it, heavy and wet with tears,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the eyes that could weep no more.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span 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-
-.. meta::
- :PG.Id: 47962
- :PG.Title: The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories
- :PG.Released: 2015-01-12
- :PG.Rights: Public Domain
- :PG.Producer: Al Haines
- :DC.Creator: Francesca Alexander
- :DC.Title: The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories
- :DC.Language: en
- :DC.Created: 1900
- :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg
-
-==============================================
-THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES
-==============================================
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. pgheader::
-
-.. container:: frontispiece
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
- .. figure:: images/img-front.jpg
- :figclass: white-space-pre-line
- :align: center
- :alt: Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by the author
-
- Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by the author
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
-.. container:: titlepage center white-space-pre-line
-
- .. figure:: images/img-title.jpg
- :figclass: white-space-pre-line
- :align: center
- :alt: Title page
-
- Title page
-
- .. vspace:: 3
-
- .. class:: xx-large bold
-
- THE HIDDEN
- SERVANTS
-
- .. class:: x-large
-
- *and* OTHER VERY OLD STORIES
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- .. class:: medium
-
- *Told Over Again By*
- FRANCESCA ALEXANDER
-
- .. vspace:: 1
-
- .. class:: small
-
- AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF IDA,"
- "ROADSIDE SONGS OF TUSCANY," Etc.
-
- .. vspace:: 3
-
- .. class:: medium
-
- *LONDON* \* Published by DAVID NUTT
- at the Sign of the Phoenix, Long Acre \* *1907*
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
-.. container:: verso center white-space-pre-line
-
- .. class:: small
-
- Copyright, 1900,
- By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
-
- .. vspace:: 1
-
- .. class:: small
-
- All Rights Reserved
-
- .. vspace:: 3
-
- .. class:: small
-
- University Press \* John Wilson
- and Son \* Cambridge, U.S.A.
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
-
-
-.. _`Introduction`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- Introduction
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-To those who are fortunate enough to know
-Miss Alexander's pen and pencil pictures of
-Italian peasant life the very name of Francesca,
-over which her early work was published,
-carries with it an aroma as of those humbler graces
-of her adopted people,—their sunny charity,
-their native sense of the beautiful, their childlike
-faith,—which touch the heart more intimately
-than all their great achievements in History and
-in Art. For those, however, to whom are yet
-unknown her faithful transcripts in picture and
-story from the lives of the people she loves, a
-word of introduction has been asked; and it was
-perhaps thought that the task might properly be
-entrusted to one who had heard *The Hidden
-Servants* and many another of these poems
-from the lips of Francesca herself.
-
-Yet, rightly considered, could any experience
-have better served to banish from the mind such
-irrelevant intruders as facts,—those literal facts
-and data at least which the uninitiated might be
-so mistaken as to desire, but which none who
-knew Francesca's work could regard as of the
-slightest consequence?
-
-Imagine a quiet, green-latticed room in Venice
-overlooking the Grand Canal whose waters
-keep time in gently audible lappings to the lilt
-of the verse,—that lilt that is apparent even in
-the printed line, but which only a voice trained
-to Italian cadences can perfectly give. Imagine
-that voice half chanting, half reciting, these old,
-old legends, and with an absolute sincerity of
-conviction which stirs the mind of the listeners,
-mere children of to-day though they be, to a
-faith akin to that which conceived the tales.
-Where is there place for facts in such a scene,
-in such an experience? Or, if facts must be,
-are not all that are requisite easily to be gleaned
-from the poems themselves? Why state that
-Francesca is the daughter of an American artist,
-or that she has spent her life in Italy, when the
-artist inheritance, the Italian atmosphere, breathes
-in every poem our little book contains? Why
-make mention even of Ruskin's enthusiastic
-heralding of her work, when the very spirit of
-it is so essentially that which the great idealist
-was seeking all his life that he could scarcely
-have failed to discover and applaud it had it been
-ever so retiring, ever so hidden? Nor does it
-matter that the Alexander home chances to be in
-Florence rather than in Venice, since it is Italy
-itself that lives in Francesca's work; nor that
-she is Protestant rather than Catholic, when it
-is religion pure and simple, unrestricted by any
-creed, that makes vital each line she writes or
-draws.
-
-Yet of the poems, if not of the writer, there
-remained still something to learn, and accordingly
-a letter of inquiry was sent her; and her
-own reply, written with no thought of publication,
-is a better report than another could give.
-This is what she says:—
-
-"With regard to this present collection of
-ballads, I can tell its history in a few words.
-When I was a young girl many old and curious
-books fell into my hands and became my favourite
-reading (next to the Bible, and, perhaps, the
-*Divina Commedia*), as I found in them the
-strong faith and simple modes of thought which
-were what I liked and wanted. Afterwards, in
-my constant intercourse with the country people,
-and especially with old people whom I always
-loved, I heard a great many legends and
-traditions, often beautiful, often instructive, and
-which, as far as I knew, had never been written
-down. I was always in request with children
-for the stories which I knew and could tell, and,
-as I found they liked these legends, I thought it
-a pity they should be lost after I should have
-passed away, and so I always meant to write
-them down; all the more that I had felt the
-need of such reading when I was a child myself.
-But I never had time to write them as long as
-my eyes permitted me to work at my drawing,
-and afterwards, when I wanted to begin them,
-I found myself unable to write at all for more
-than a few minutes at once. Finally I thought
-of turning the stories into rhyme and learning
-them all by heart, so that I could write them
-down little by little. I thought children would
-not be very particular, if I could just make the
-dear old stories vivid and comprehensible, which
-I tried to do. If, as you kindly hope, they may
-be good for older people as well, then it must be
-that when the Lord took from me one faculty
-He gave me another; which is in no way
-impossible. And I think of the beautiful Italian
-proverb: 'When God shuts a door He opens a
-window.'"
-
-After such an account of the origin and
-growth of these poems no further comment
-would seem fitting, unless it be that made by
-Cardinal Manning when writing to Mr. Ruskin
-in 1883 to thank him for a copy of Francesca's
-*Story of Ida*. He writes:—
-
-"It is simply beautiful, like the *Fioretti di San
-Francesco*. Such flowers can grow in one soil
-alone. They can be found only in the Garden
-of Faith, over which the world of light hangs
-visibly, and is more intensely seen by the poor
-and the pure in heart than by the rich, or the
-learned, or the men of culture."
-
-.. vspace:: 1
-
-ANNA FULLER.
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`Preface`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- Preface
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center bold
-
- THE OLD STORY-TELLER
-
-.. container:: italics
-
- | In my upper chamber here,
- | Still I wait from year to year;
- | Wondering when the time will come
- | That the Lord will call me home.
- | All the rest have been removed,—
- | Those I worked for, those I loved;
- | And, at times, there seems to be
- | Little use on earth for me.
- | Still God keeps me—He knows why—
- | When so many younger die!
-
- | From my window I look down
- | On the busy, bustling town.
- | But beyond its noise and jar
- | I can see the hills afar;
- | And above it, the blue sky,
- | And the white clouds sailing by;
- | And the sunbeams, as they shine
- | On a world that is not mine.
-
- | Here I wait, while life shall last,
- | An old relic of the past,
- | Feeling strange, and far away
- | From the people of to-day;
- | Thankful for the memory dear
- | Of a morning, always near,
- | Though long vanished, and so fair!
- | Dewy flowers and April air;
- | Thankful that the storms of noon
- | Spent their force and died so soon;
- | Thankful, as their echoes cease,
- | For this twilight hour of peace.
-
- | But my life, to evening grown,
- | Still has pleasures of its own.
- | Up my stairway, long and steep,
- | Now and then the children creep;
- | Gather round me, where I sit
- | All day long, and dream, and knit;
- | Fill my room with happy noise—
- | May God bless them, girls and boys!
- | Then sweet eyes upon me shine,
- | Dimpled hands are laid in mine;
- | And I never ask them why
- | They have sought to climb so high;
- | For 'twere useless to enquire!
- | 'Tis a story they desire,
- | Taken from my ancient store,
- | None the worse if heard before;
- | And they turn, with pleading looks,
- | To my shelf of time-worn books,
- | Bound in parchment brown with age.
- | Little in them to engage
- | Children's fancy, one would say!
- | Yet, when tired with noisy play,
- | Nothing pleases them so well
- | As the stories I can tell
- | From those pages, old and gray,
- | With their edges worn away;
- | Spelling queer, and Woodcut quaint.
- | Angel, demon, prince, and saint,
- | Much alike in face and air;
- | Houses tipping here and there,
- | Lion, palm-tree, hermit's cell,
- | And much more I need not tell.
-
- | Then they all attentive wait,
- | While the story I relate,
- | And, before the half is told,
- | I forget that I am old!
- | But one age there seems to be
- | For the little ones and me.
- | What though all be new and strange,
- | Little children never change;
- | All is shifting day by day,—
- | Worse or better, who can say?
- | Much we lose, and much we learn,
- | But the children still return,
- | As the flowers do, every year;
- | Just as innocent and dear
- | As those babes who first did meet
- | At our Heavenly Master's feet.
- | In His arms He took them all:
- | Oh, 'tis precious to recall—
- | Blessèd to believe it true—
- | That what we love He loved too!
-
- | Since the time when life was new,
- | All my long, long journey through,
- | I have story-teller been.
- | When a child I did begin
- | To my playmates; later on,
- | Other children, long since gone,
- | Came to listen; and of some,
- | Still the children's children come!
-
- | Some, the dearest, took their flight,
- | In the early morning light,
- | To the glory far away,
- | Made for them and such as they.
- | I have lingered till the last;
- | All the busy hours are past;
- | Now my sun is in the west,
- | Slowly sinking down to rest
- | Ere it wholly fades from view,
- | One thing only I would do:
- | From my stories I would choose
- | Those 't would grieve me most to lose.
- | And would tell them once again
- | For the children who remain,
- | And for others, yet to be,
- | Whom on earth I may not see.
- | Here, within this volume small,
- | I have thought to write them all;
- | And to-day the work commence,
- | Trusting, ere God call me hence,
- | I may see the whole complete.
- | It will be a labour sweet,
- | Calling back, in sunset glow,
- | Happy hours of long ago.
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- CONTENTS
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-`Introduction`_
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-`Preface`_
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-`The Hidden Servants`_
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-`The Bag of Sand`_
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-`Il Crocifisso della Providenza`_
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-`Angels in the Churchyard`_
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-`The Origin of the Indian Corn`_
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-`The Eldest Daughter of the King`_
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-`Bishop Troilus`_
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-`The Crosses on the Wall`_
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-`Suora Marianna`_
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-`The Lupins`_
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-`The Silver Cross`_
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-`The Tears of Repentance`_
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-.. _`The Hidden Servants`:
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- The Hidden Servants
- *AND OTHER POEMS*
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- THE HIDDEN SERVANTS
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- | A sheltered nook on a mountain side,
- | Shut in, and guarded, and fortified
- | By rocks that hardly a goat would climb,
- | All smoothed by tempest and bleached by time—
- | Such was the spot that the hermit chose,
- | From youth to age, for his life's repose.
- | There had he lived for forty years,
- | Trying, with penance and prayers and tears,
- | To make his soul like a polished stone
- | In God's great temple; for this alone
- | Was the one dear wish that his soul possessed,
- | And 't was little he cared for all the rest,
-
- | Nothing had changed since first he came;
- | The sky and the mountain were all the same,
- | Only a beech-tree, that there had grown
- | Ere ever he builded his cell of stone,
- | Had risen and spread to a stately grace,
- | And its shifting shadow filled half the place.
- | Many a winter its storms had spent,
- | Many a summer its sunshine lent
- | To the little cell, till it came to look
- | Like another rock in the peaceful nook.
- | Mosses and lichen had veiled the wall,
- | Till it hardly seemed like a dwelling at all.
-
- | 'T was a peaceful home when the days were soft,
- | And spring in her sweetness crept aloft
- | From the plains below where her work was done,
- | And the hills grew green in the warming sun.
- | And in summer the cell of the hermit seemed
- | Like part of that heaven of which he dreamed:
- | For the turf behind those walls of flint
- | Was sprinkled with flowers of rainbow tint;
- | And never a sound but the bees' low hum,
- | As over the blossoms they go and come;
- | Or—when one listened—the fainter tones
- | Of a spring that bubbled between the stones.
-
- | But dreary it was on a winter's night,
- | When the snow fell heavy and soft and white.
- | And at times, when the morn was cold and keen,
- | The footprints of wolves at his door were seen.
- | But cold or hunger he hardly felt,
- | So near to heaven the good man dwelt;
- | And as for danger—why, death, to him,
- | Meant only joining the Seraphim!
-
- | Poorly he lived, and hardly fared;
- | And when the acorns and roots he shared
- | With mole or squirrel, he asked no more,
- | But thanked the Lord for such welcome store.
- | The richest feast he could ever know
- | Was when the shepherds who dwelt below,
- | Whose sheep in the mountain pastures fed,
- | Would bring him cheeses, or barley bread,
- | Or—after harvest—a bag of meal;
- | And then they would all before him kneel,
- | On flowery turf or on moss-grown rocks,
- | To ask a blessing for them and their flocks,
-
- | And once or twice he had wandered out
- | To preach in the country round about,
- | Where unto many his words were blest;
- | Then back he climbed to his quiet nest.
- | By all in trouble his aid was sought;
- | And women their pining children brought,
- | For a touch of his hand to ease their pain,
- | And his prayers to make them strong again.
-
- | And now one wish in his heart remained:
- | He longed to know what his soul had gained,
- | And how he had grown in the Master's grace,
- | Since first he came to that lonely place.
- | This wish was haunting him night and day,
- | He never could drive the thought away.
- | Until at length in the beech-tree's shade
- | He knelt, and with all his soul he prayed
- | That God would grant him to know and see
- | A man, if such in the world might be,
- | Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown
- | To the self-same measure as his own;
- | Whose treasure on the celestial shore
- | Could neither be less than his nor more.
- | He prayed with faith, and his prayer was heard;
- | He hardly came to the closing word
- | Before he felt there was some one there!
- | He looked, and saw in the sun-lit air
- | An angel, floating on wings of white;
- | Nor did he wonder at such a sight:
- | For angels often had come to cheer
- | His soul, and he thought them always near.
- | Happy and humble, he bowed his head,
- | And listened, while thus the angel said:
- | "Go to the nearest town, and there,
- | To-morrow, will be in the market square
- | A mountebank, playing his tricks for show:
- | He is the man thou hast prayed to know;
- | His soul, as seen by the light divine,
- | Is neither better nor worse than thine.
- | His treasure on the celestial shore
- | Is neither less than thine own nor more."
-
- | Next day, in the dim and early morn,
- | By a slippery path that the sheep had worn,
- | The hermit went from his loved abode
- | To the farms below, and the beaten road.
- | The reapers, out in the field that day,
- | Who saw him passing, did often say,
- | What a mournful look the old man had!
- | And his very voice was changed and sad.
- | Troubled he was, and much perplexed;
- | With endless doubting his mind was vexed.
- | What—He? A mountebank? Both the same?
- | What could it mean to his soul but shame?
- | Had his forty years been vainly spent?
- | And then, alas! as he onward went,
- | There came an evil and bitter thought,—
- | Had he been serving the Lord for nought?
- | But in his fear he began to pray,
- | And the black temptation passed away.
-
- | Perhaps the mountebank yet might prove
- | To have a soul in the Master's love.
- | He almost felt that it must be so,
- | In spite of a life that seemed so low.
- | Perhaps he was forced such life to take,
- | It might be, even for conscience' sake;
- | Some cruel master the order gave,
- | Perhaps, for scorn of a pious slave.
- | Or, stay—there were saints in ancient days,
- | Who had such terror of human praise
- | That, but to gain the contempt they prized,
- | They did such things as are most despised;
- | Feigned even madness; and more than one,
- | Accused of sins he had never done,
- | Had willingly borne disgrace and blame,
- | Nor said a word for his own good name!
-
- | In thoughts like these had the day gone by;
- | The sun was now in the western sky:
- | The road, grown level and hot and wide,
- | With dusty hedges on either side,
- | Had led him close to the city gate,
- | Where he must enter to learn his fate.
-
- | Now fear did over his hope prevail:
- | He almost wished in his search to fail,
- | And find no mountebank there at all!
- | For then his vision he well might call
- | A dream that came of its own accord,
- | Instead of a message from the Lord!
- | A few more minutes, and then he knew
- | That all which the angel said was true!
-
- | A mountebank, in the market square,
- | Was making the people laugh and stare.
- | With antics more befitting an ape
- | Than any creature in human shape!
- | The hermit took his place with the rest,
- | Not heeding the crowd that round him pressed,
- | And earnestly set his eyes to scan
- | The face of the poor, unsaintly man.
- | Alas, there was little written there
- | Of inward peace or of answered prayer!
- | For all the paint, and the droll grimace,
- | 'T was a haggard, anxious, weary face.
-
- | The mountebank saw, with vague surprise,
- | The patient, sorrowful, searching eyes,
- | Whose look, so solemn, and kindly too,
- | Seemed piercing all his disguises through.
- | They made him restless, he knew not why:
- | He could not play; it was vain to try!
- | His face grew sober, his movements slow;
- | And, soon as might be, he closed the show.
-
- | He saw that the hermit lingered on,
- | When all the rest of the crowd were gone.
- | Then over his gaudy clothes he drew
- | A ragged mantle of faded hue;
- | And he himself was the first to speak:
- | "Good Father, is it for me you seek?"
- | "My son, I have sought you all the day;
- | Would you come with me a little way,
- | Into some quiet corner near,
- | Where no one our words can overhear?"
-
- | Not far away, in a lonely street,
- | By a garden wall they found a seat.
- | It now was late, and the sun had set,
- | Though a golden glory lingered yet,
- | And the moon looked pale in it overhead.
- | They sat them down, and the hermit said:
- | "My son, to me was a vision sent,
- | And as yet I know not what it meant;
- | But I think that you, and you alone,
- | Are able to make its meaning known.
- | Answer me then—I have great need—
- | And tell me, what is the life you lead?"
-
- | "My life's a poor one, you may suppose!
- | I 've many troubles that no one knows;
- | For I have to keep a smiling face.
- | I wander, friendless, from place to place,
- | Risking my neck for a scanty gain;
- | But I must do it, and not complain.
- | I know, whatever may go amiss,
- | That I have deserved much worse than this."
-
- | To the hermit this a meaning bore
- | Of deep humility, nothing more.
- | So, gaining courage, "But this," he said,
- | "Is not the life you have always led.
- | So much the vision to me revealed;
- | I know there 's something you keep concealed."
-
- | The mountebank answered sadly: "Yes!
- | 'T is true: you ask, and I must confess.
- | But keep my secret, good Father, pray;
- | Or my life will not be safe for a day!
- | Alas, I have led a life of crime!
- | I 've been an evil man in my time.
- | I was a robber—I think you know—
- | Till little more than a year ago;
- | One of a desperate, murderous band,
- | A curse and terror to all the land!"
-
- | The hermit's head sank down on his breast;
- | His trembling hands to his eyes he pressed.
- | "Has God rejected me?" then he moaned:
- | "Are all my service and love disowned?
- | Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?"
-
- | The other, seeing the old man grieved,
- | Said: "Father, why do you care so much
- | For one not worthy your robe to touch?
- | The Lord is gracious, and if He will,
- | He can forgive and save me still.
- | And as for my wicked life, 't is I,
- | Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh!
- | Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace."
-
- | The hermit made him a sign to cease;
- | Then raised his head, and began to speak,
- | With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek.
- | "If you could remember even one
- | Good deed that you in your life have done,
- | I need not go in despair away.
- | Think well; and if you can find one, say!"
-
- | "Once," said the mountebank, "that was all,
- | I did for the Lord a service small,
- | And never yet have I told the tale!
- | But if you wish it, I will not fail.
- | A few of our men had gone one day—
- | 'T was less for plunder, I think, than play—
- | To a certain convent, small and poor,
- | Where a dozen sisters lived secure
- | For very poverty! dreaming not
- | That any envied their humble lot.
- | There, finding the door was locked and barred,
- | They climbed the wall of a grass-grown yard.
- | Some vines were planted along its side,
- | Their trailing branches left room to hide;
- | Where, neither by pity moved nor shame,
- | They crouched, till one of the sisters came
- | To gather herbs for the noonday meal;
- | Then out from under the leaves they steal!
- | So she was taken, poor soul, and bound,
- | And carried off to our camping ground.
- | A harmless creature, who knew no more
- | Of the world outside her convent door,
- | Than you or I of the moon up there!
- | A shame, to take her in such a snare!
-
- | "But, Father, I wished that I had been
- | Ten miles away, when they brought her in,
- | To hold for ransom; or if that failed—
- | Oh, well, we knew when the pirates sailed!
- | We knew their captain, who paid us well,
- | And carried our prisoners off to sell.
- | They never beheld their country more,
- | Being bought for slaves on a foreign shore.
-
- | "But oh! 't was enough the tears to bring,
- | To see that innocent, frightened thing,
- | Looking, half hopeful, from face to face,
- | As if she thought, in that wicked place,
- | There might be one who would take her part!
- | She looked at me, and it stung my heart.
- | But I, with a hard, disdainful air,
- | Turned from her as one who did not care,
- | I heard her sighing: she did not know
- | That her gentle look had hurt me so!
-
- | "That night they set me the watch to keep;
- | And when the others were all asleep,
- | And I had been moving to and fro,
- | With branches keeping the fire aglow,
- | I crept along to the woman's side,—
- | She sat apart, and her arms were tied,—
- | And said,—'t was only a whispered word;
- | We both were lost if the others heard,—
- | 'If you will trust me and with me come,
- | I 'll bring you safe to your convent home.'
- | She started, into my face she gazed;
- | Said she, 'I'll trust you—the Lord be praised!'
-
- | "I very quickly the cords unbound.
- | She rose; I led her without a sound
- | Between the rows of the sleeping men,
- | Till we left the camp behind; and then
- | I found my horse, that was tied near by.
- | The woman mounted, and she and I
- | Set off in haste, through the midnight shade,
- | On the wildest journey I ever made!
- | By wood and thicket the horse I led,
- | And over a torrent's stony bed,—
- | For along the road I dared not go,
- | For fear that the others our flight should know,
- | And follow after; the woman prayed.
- | I, quick and cautious, but not afraid,
- | Went first, with the stars for guide, until
- | We saw the convent, high on a hill.
- | We reached the door as the east grew red.
- | 'God will remember!' was all she said;
- | Her face was full of a sweet content.
- | She knocked, they opened, and in she went.
- | The door was closed—she was safe at last!
- | I heard the bolt as they made it fast—
- | And I in the twilight stood alone,
- | With the lightest heart I had ever known!
-
- | "So, Father, my robber days were o'er;
- | I could not be what I was before.
- | I wandered on with a thankful mind,
- | For I left the old bad life behind,
- | And tried, as I journeyed day by day,
- | To gain my bread in an honest way.
- | But little work could I find to do;
- | And so, as some juggling tricks I knew,
- | I took this business which now you see:
- | 'T is good enough for a man like me!"
-
- | While yet the story was going on,
- | The cloud from the hermit's face had gone;
- | And if his eyes in the moonlight shone,
- | They glistened with thankful tears alone.
- | He listened in solemn awe until
- | The mountebank's tale was done; and still,
- | Some moments, he neither spoke nor stirred,
- | But silently pondered every word.
-
- | Then humbly speaking, "The Lord," said he,
- | "Has had great mercy on you and me!
- | And now, my son, I must tell you why
- | I came to speak with you—know that I
- | Have tried with the Lord alone to dwell,
- | For forty years, in my mountain cell;
- | In prayer and solitude, day and night,
- | Have striven to keep my candle bright!
- | And there, but yesterday, while I prayed,
- | An angel came to my side, and said
- | That I should seek you,—and told me where,—
- | And should your life with my own compare;
- | For in God's service and love and grace
- | Your soul with mine has an equal place,
- | We both alike have his mercy shared,
- | The same reward is for both prepared.
- | I came; I sought you—and you know how
- | I found you out in the square just now!
- | At which—may the Lord forgive my pride!—
- | At first I was poorly satisfied.
- | But now I have heard your story through—
- | What you in a single night could do!—
- | And know that this to the Lord appears
- | Worth all my service of forty years;
- | I can but wonder, and thank His grace
- | Which raised us both to an equal place,"
-
- | "But, Father, it never can be true!
- | What?—I by the side of a saint like you?
- | Ah no! You never to me were sent.
- | 'T was some one else whom the angel meant!"
-
- | "No! Listen to me—'T was *you*, my son!
- | Our Master said that a service done
- | To a child of His in time of need
- | Is done to Himself in very deed,
- | And is with love by Himself received!
- | So do not think I have been deceived,
- | But keep those words on your heart engraved
- | Of the humble woman whose life you saved,
- | *God will remember*, and trust His care.
- | He will not forget you here nor there!"
-
- | "O Father, Father! And can it be
- | That the Lord in heaven remembers me?
- | And yet I had felt it must be true,
- | For the woman spoke as if she knew!
- | But when was ever such mercy shown,
- | And is this the love He bears His own?
- | Are these the blessings He holds in store?
- | Oh, let me serve Him for evermore!"
-
- | And when, at the close of another day,
- | The hermit wearily made his way
- | Up the mountain path, from stone to stone,
- | He did not climb to his cell alone.
- | The mountebank, still with wondering face,
- | Came with him up to that peaceful place!
-
- | Together with thankful hearts they went,
- | Thenceforth together their lives were spent.
- | And, ere the summer had reached its close,
- | Another cell from the rocks arose;
- | The beech, in its strong and stately growth,
- | Spread one green canopy over both.
- | On summer evenings, when shepherds guide
- | Their flocks to rest on the mountain side,
- | They heard above, in the twilight calm,
- | Two voices, chanting the evening psalm;
- | And one was agèd, and one was young,
- | But never was hymn more sweetly sung!
-
- | In love and patience, by deed and word,
- | They helped each other to serve the Lord,—
- | Together to pray, to learn, to teach,—
- | Till a deeper blessing fell on each.
- | Their souls grew upward from day to day;
- | But he who farthest had gone astray,
- | Who, lowest fallen, had hardest striven,
- | Who most had sinned and been most forgiven,
- | Erelong in the heavenly race outran
- | The older, milder, and wiser man.
- | Two years he dwelt with his agèd friend,
- | Then made a blessèd and peaceful end;
- | And, when his penitent life was done,
- | The hermit wept as he would for a son!
-
- | Ten years had over the mountain passed,
- | Since that poor mountebank breathed his last,
- | Helped, to the end, by a woman's prayer,
- | Ten years; and the hermit still was there.
- | Grown older, thinner, with shoulders bent,
- | He seldom forth from his shelter went.
- | But those he had helped in former days
- | With prayers and counsel, in thousand ways,
- | Were mindful of him, and brought him all
- | He needed now, for his wants were small.
- | And happy they were their best to give,
- | If only their mountain saint would live!
- | For in his living their lives were blest;
- | And if he longed for the perfect rest,
- | Patient he was, and content to wait,
- | While God should please, at the heavenly gate.
- | Beautiful now his face had grown,
- | But the beauty was something not his own,—
- | A solemn light from the blessèd land
- | Within whose border he soon must stand.
- | Little he said, but his every word
- | Was saved and treasured by those who heard,
- | To be a blessing in years to come,
- | When he should be theirs no more; and some
- | Who brought their little to help his need,
- | Went home with their souls enriched indeed!
-
- | One autumn morning he sat alone,
- | Outside his cell; and the warm sun shone
- | With a friendly light on his silver hair,
- | Through the branches, smooth and almost bare,
- | Of the beech-tree, now, like him, grown old.
- | The night before had been sharp and cold;
- | And the frost was white on leaf and stem
- | Wherever the rocks still shaded them,
- | But where the sunbeams had found their way,
- | In glittering, crystal drops it lay;
- | And fallen leaves at his feet were strewn,
- | Yellow and wet, over turf and stone.
-
- | He sat and dreamed, as the agèd do,
- | While, drifting backward, he lived anew
- | The years that never again should be.
- | A placid dream—for his soul was free
- | From all the troubles of long ago,
- | The doubts, the conflict he used to know!
- | Doubts of himself, and a contest grim
- | With evil spirits that strove for him.
- | Now all was over; that troubled day
- | Was like a storm that had passed away.
-
- | It seemed to him that his voyage was o'er;
- | His ship already had touched the shore.
- | Yet once he sighed; for he knew that he
- | Was not the man he had hoped to be,
- | And, looking back on his journey past,
- | He felt—what all of us feel at last!
- | And his soul was moved to pray once more
- | The prayer he had made twelve years before,
- | Only to know, before he died,
- | If he were worthy to stand beside
- | One of God's children, or great or small,
- | Who served Him truly; and that was all!
-
- | It was not long ere the angel came,
- | Who, gently calling the saint by name,
- | Said: "Come, for thou hast not far to go.
- | One step, and I to thine eyes will show
- | The very dwelling that shelters now
- | Two souls as near to the Lord as thou!"
-
- | The hermit rose; and with reverent tread
- | He followed on as the angel led.
- | Where a single cleft the rocks between
- | Gave passage out of the valley green
- | They passed, and stood in the pathway steep:
- | The rocks about them were sunken deep
- | In fern, and bramble, and purple heath,
- | That sloped away to the woods beneath;
- | While far below, and on every side,
- | Were endless mountains, and forests wide,
- | And scattered villages here and there,
- | That all looked near in the clear, dry air.
- | And here a church, with its belfry tall;
- | And there a convent, whose massive wall
- | Rose grave and stately above the trees.
- | The hermit willingly looked at these;
- | For hope they gave him that now, at least,
- | Some praying brother or toiling priest
- | Might be his mate; but it was not so!
- | The angel showed him, away below,
- | A slope where a little mountain-farm
- | Lay, all spread out in the sunshine warm,
- | Along the side of a wooded hill.
- | It looked so peaceful and far and still!
- | And when his eye on the farmhouse fell,
- | The angel said: "It is there they dwell!
- | Two women in heart and soul like thee.
- | Go, find them, Brother, and thou shalt see
- | All that thou art in their lives displayed."
- | Before the hermit an answer made,
- | The angel back to the skies had flown;
- | He stood in the rocky path alone.
-
- | Along the broken and winding way
- | Between the heath and the boulders gray;
- | Through lonely pastures that led him down
- | To oaken woods in their autumn brown;
- | And o'er the stones of a rippling stream,
- | The hermit passed, like one in a dream!
- | As though the vision, had made him strong:
- | He hardly knew that the way was long.
-
- | 'T was almost noon when he came in sight
- | Of the little farmhouse, low and white:
- | A sheltered lane by the orchard led,
- | Where mountain ash, with its berries red,
- | Rose high above him; and brambles, grown
- | All over the rough, low wall of stone,
- | And tangled brier with thorny spray,
- | And feathered clematis, edged the way.
- | Then, turning shortly, a view he caught
- | Of both the women for whom he sought.
-
- | One, spinning, sat by the open door;
- | Her spindle danced on the worn stone floor.
- | The other, just from the forest come,
- | Had brought a bundle of branches home,
- | And spread them now in the sun to dry;
- | But both looked up as the saint drew nigh.
- | Then, on a sudden, the spindle stopped,
- | The branches all on the grass were dropped.
- | He heard them joyfully both exclaim,
- | "The Saint! The hermit!" And forth they came
- | To bid him welcome, and made request
- | That he would enter their house to rest.
-
- | But when a blessing they both implored,
- | He had not courage to speak the word.
- | The only blessing his lips let fall
- | Was this: "May the good Lord bless us all,
- | And keep our hearts in His peace divine!"
- | With hand uplifted, he made the sign,
- | Then entered in (to their joy complete!)
- | And willingly took the offered seat.
-
- | And soon before him a meal was spread,
- | Of chestnuts, of goat's milk cheese, and bread;
- | While one with her pitcher went to bring
- | Some water fresh from the ice-cold spring.
-
- | He could not taste of the food prepared
- | Till he his errand to both declared.
- | Said he: "My friends, I have come to-day
- | With something grave on my mind to say,
- | And more to hear; and I pray you now
- | To answer truly, and not allow
- | A feeling, whether of pride or shame,
- | Or any shrinking from praise or blame,
- | To change the answer you both may give,
- | Of what you are and of how you live."
-
- | Then she with distaff still at her side,
- | Of speech more ready, at once replied.
- | In years the elder, but not in face,
- | She kept a little of youthful grace:
- | The dark eyes under her snow-white hair
- | Were keen and clear as the autumn air!
-
- | "We are but what we appear to be:
- | Two toiling women, as you may see!
- | And neither so young nor strong as when
- | In field and forest we helped the men.
- | We now have only the lesser care,
- | To keep the house, and the meals prepare,
- | And other labours of small account,
- | Yet something worth in the week's amount.
- | But in our youth, and a lifetime through,
- | We laboured, much as the others do!
- | Through storm and sunshine we still have tried
- | To do our best by our husbands' side.
- | And keep their hearts and our own at rest
- | When sickness came or when want oppressed.
- | For even famine our house assailed
- | That year when the corn and chestnuts failed.
- | And once—that winter ten years ago—
- | Our house was buried beneath the snow,
- | And ere it melted and light returned,
- | The very benches for warmth we burned!
- | Nor is there want, in our busy hive,
- | Of children keeping the house alive:
- | For she has seven, and I have nine;
- | But three of hers and the first of mine
- | Are safe with Jesus,—more happy they!
- | Two more have married and gone away.
- | My son's young wife, with her infant small,
- | Make up the household—fourteen in all."
-
- | "In this," he said, "there is much to praise:
- | In humble service you pass your days,
- | And spend your life for your children's needs.
- | But tell me now of the pious deeds
- | (For such there are) that you seek to hide,
- | To me in a vision signified!"
-
- | "But, sir, we are just two poor old wives.
- | Who never have done in all our lives
- | A pious deed that was worth the name!"
- | She said; and her white head drooped with shame.
-
- | Then said the other: "And yet, 't is true,
- | We help in all that our husbands do.
- | When twice a year they have killed a sheep,
- | 'T is only half for ourselves we keep;
- | Our poorer neighbours have all the rest.
- | And this, I fear, is the very best
- | We ever do!" "And," said he, "'t is well!
- | But think—is there nothing more to tell?"
-
- | They both were silent a little space,
- | And each one questioned the other's face,
- | Till, doubtful, when she had thought awhile,
- | The elder said, with a modest smile:
- | "This summer have forty years gone by,
- | Since she—my sister-in-law—and I
- | Together came in this house to dwell;
- | And, Father, it is not much to tell,
- | But in all these years, from first to last,
- | No angry word has between us passed,
- | Nor even a look that was less than kind.
- | And that is all I can call to mind."
-
- | Enough it was for the hermit's need!
- | He rose, like one from a burden freed.
- | "Thank God!" he said; "if indeed He sees
- | My soul as worthy and white as these!
- | And great the mercy He doth bestow,
- | That I should His hidden servants know!"
-
- | A sudden flash, as of heavenly light,
- | Then shone within him, and all was bright;
- | And in a moment were things made clear
- | Had vexed him many a weary year!
- | For he, who had thought on earth to view
- | God's people only a scattered few,
- | Saw now, in spirit, an army great
- | Of hidden servants who on Him wait.
- | No saintly legends their names disclose,
- | And no man living their number knows,
- | Nor can their service and place declare.
- | The hidden servants are everywhere!
- | And some are hated, despised, alone;
- | And some to even themselves unknown.
- | But the Father's house has room for all,
- | And never one from His hand can fall!
- | The one brave deed of a desperate man,
- | Grown hard in crime since his youth began,
- | Who yet, for a helpless woman's sake,
- | Had strength to rise, and his chain to break;
- | The holy sweetness that fills the heart
- | Of him who dwells from the world apart,
- | His life one dream of celestial things,
- | Till almost heaven to earth he brings;
- | Or yet the humble, unnoticed life
- | Of toiling mother and patient wife,
- | Who, year on year, has had grace to bear
- | Her changeless burden of daily care,—
- | Are all accepted with equal love,
- | And laid with treasures that wait above
- | Until the day when we all believe
- | That every man shall his deeds receive.
-
- | And when, that evening, with weary feet
- | The hermit stood by his lone retreat,
- | And watched awhile, with a tranquil gaze,
- | The mountains soft in the sunset haze,
- | And sleeping forest, and field below,
- | He said, as he saw the star-like glow
- | Of lights in the cottage windows far,
- | "How many God's hidden servants are!"
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`The Bag of Sand`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- The Bag of Sand
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-THE BAG OF SAND was written by St. Heradius,
-who visited, some time in the fifth century, the
-hermit fathers of the desert and mountains, and collected
-many interesting stories about them.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- The Bag of Sand
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. container:: italics
-
- | In that land of desolation
- | Where, mid dangers manifold,
- | Lost in heavenly contemplation,
- | Desert fathers dwelt of old,
-
- | Lay a field where grass was growing
- | Green beneath the palm-trees' shade;
- | And a spring, forever flowing,
- | Life amid the stillness made.
-
- | There a brotherhood, incited
- | By one hope and purpose high,
- | Came to dwell in faith united,
- | Pray and labour, live and die.
-
- | Mighty was the love that bound them.
- | Each to each, in that wild land,
- | Where the desert closed around them,
- | One dead waste of rocks and sand,
-
- | Saving where, to rest their eyes on,
- | While they dreamed of hills divine,
- | Blue, above the low horizon,
- | Stretched the mountains' wavy line.
-
- | There could nought of earth remind them,
- | Nor disturb their dreams and prayers;
- | They had left the world behind them,
- | Felt no more its joys and cares.
-
- | Far from all its weary bustle,
- | Will subdued, and mind at ease.
- | They could hear the palm-trees rustle
- | In the early morning breeze.
-
- | When the bell, to prayer inviting.
- | From the low-built belfry rang,
- | They could hear the birds uniting
- | With them while the psalms they sang.
-
- | From the earth their labour brought them
- | All they needed—scanty fare.
- | Life of toil and hardship taught them,
- | Though at peace, the cross to bear.
-
- | This is all their record: never
- | Can we hope the rest to know!
- | Names and deeds are lost forever,
- | In the mist of long ago;
-
- | And of all that life angelic
- | Neither shadow left, nor trace.
- | Save this tale,—a precious relic,
- | In its wise and saintly grace!
-
- | This, above the darkness lifted
- | By the truth that in it lay,
- | On the sea of time has drifted,
- | And is still our own to-day.
-
- | Listen to it, it may teach us
- | Wisdom, with its words of gold!
- | Let this far-off blessing reach us
- | From the desert saints of old.
-
-.. vspace:: 3
-
-..
-
- | Underneath the vines they tended
- | Where the garden air was sweet,
- | Where the shadows, softly blended,
- | Made an ever cool retreat,—
-
- | These good brethren had assembled,
- | On their abbot to attend;
- | All were sad, and many trembled,
- | Thinking how the day would end.
-
- | Of their little congregation
- | One who long had faithful been,
- | Had, beneath a sore temptation,
- | Fallen into grievous sin.
-
- | What it was they have not told us,
- | But we know, whatever the blame,
- | If God's hand should cease to hold us,
- | You or I might do the same.
-
- | And for judgment's wise completing
- | (Now the crime was certified),
- | All were called in solemn meeting
- | On the sentence to decide.
-
- | Much in doubt, they craved assistance,
- | Sent to convents far away,
- | Even to that fair blue distance
- | Where their eyes had loved to stray.
-
- | Fathers learnèd, fathers saintly,
- | Abbots used to think and rule,
- | Gathered where the brook sang faintly
- | In the shadow, green and cool.
-
- | Oh the beauty that was wasted
- | On that day, remembered oft!
- | Oh the sweetness, all untasted,
- | Of the morning, still and soft!
-
- | At their feet the water glistened,
- | Birds were nesting overhead;
- | No one saw, and no one listened
- | Save to what the speakers said.
-
- | Long and sad was their debating,
- | Voices low and faces grave,
- | While, the gloomy tale relating,
- | Each in turn his judgment gave.
-
- | "Send him from you!" one was saying
- | Calmly, as of reason sure;
- | "All are tainted by his staying,
- | Let men know your hands are pure!
-
- | "For the shame and sorrow brought you,
- | Let him be to all as dead!
- | Harm sufficient has he wrought you!"
- | But the abbot shook his head.
-
- | For the sin which had undone him,
- | For much evil brought about,
- | He would lay a burden on him,
- | But he could not cast him out!
-
- | All night long the distant howling,
- | While he waked, of beasts of prey,
- | Made him think of demons prowling,
- | Come to snatch that soul away.
-
- | Said another: "I would rather
- | That his shame by all were seen.
- | Do not spare him, O my Father;
- | Let the blow be swift and keen!
-
- | "Let not justice be evaded!
- | Keep him, bound to labour hard,
- | With you, but apart degraded,
- | And from speech with all debarred!"
-
- | This the abbot not refusing,
- | Only wondered, while he thought,
- | Was there no one feared the losing
- | Of a soul the Lord had bought?
-
- | One, more thoughtless, recommended
- | That in prison closely pent
- | He should stay till life was ended!
- | But to this would none consent.
-
- | In the cell where first they closed him,
- | Shrinking back, as best he might,
- | From a window that exposed him
- | Sometimes to a passer's sight,
-
- | He, the black offender, waited,
- | From them parted since his fall:
- | Once beloved, now scorned and hated
- | By himself, he thought by all!
-
- | Nothing asking, nothing pleading,
- | Speechless, tearless, in despair;
- | But, like one in pain exceeding,
- | Moving ever here and there.
-
- | Little did his fate alarm him:
- | What had he to fear or shun?
- | What could others do to harm him
- | More than he himself had done?
-
- | But without were minds divided,
- | And the morning wore away;
- | Noon had come, and undecided
- | Still the heavy question lay.
-
- | Though they looked so stern and fearless,
- | Some with sinking hearts had come,—
- | Hearts that wept when eyes were tearless,
- | Pleaded when the lips were dumb.
-
- | One who had that morning seen him,
- | Seeking from their gaze to hide,
- | Tried from heavy doom to screen him;
- | But his reasons were denied.
-
- | He of other days was thinking,—
- | Happy days, and still so near!—
- | When that brother, shamed and shrinking,
- | Had to all their souls been dear.
-
- | Others tried their hearts to harden,
- | Felt their pity to be sin;
- | Silent, prayed the Lord to pardon
- | Kinder thoughts that rose within.
-
- | Some proposed and some objected,
- | While, the long debate to end,
- | One old Father they expected,
- | And on him would all depend.
-
- | He—their honoured, best adviser—
- | Dwelt in desert cave retired;
- | Older than the rest, and wiser:
- | Many thought his words inspired;
-
- | Said he knew what passed within them
- | When by sin or doubt assailed;
- | True it is, his words could win them,
- | Often, when all else had failed.
-
- | He would find what all were seeking,
- | Justice pure, and judgment right!
- | Still the abbot, seldom speaking,
- | Pale and sober, prayed for light.
-
- | Light was sent! For, toiling slowly
- | O'er the sun-baked desert road,
- | Came that Father, wise and holy,
- | Bent beneath a weary load!
-
- | Scarce his failing limbs sustained him,
- | For the burden sorely pressed:
- | Many times, as though it pained him,
- | Would he stand to breathe and rest.
-
- | One who watched for his arriving,
- | Went and told them he was near.
- | Up they rose, and ceased their striving,
- | In their joy such news to hear!
-
- | Then they all went forth and met him,
- | By their reverent love compelled:
- | Nevermore could one forget him,
- | Who that day his face beheld!
-
- | Wasted, worn, yet strong to aid them;
- | Peaceful, though by conflict tried;
- | Shining with a light that made them
- | Feel the Lord was by his side!
-
- | But it grieved their souls to see him
- | By that burden bowed and strained!
- | Many stretched their hands to free him,
- | Wondering what the sack contained.
-
- | "Why this burden?" one addressed him;
- | "All unfit for arms like thine!"
- | He, while yet the weight oppressed him,
- | Answered: "These are sins of mine.
-
- | "I must bear them all, my brother,
- | Ever with me while I go
- | On my way to judge another!
- | These have made my journey slow."
-
- | Then the abbot, growing bolder,
- | Raised the load with trembling hand
- | From the Father's bended shoulder;
- | Looked—and found it filled with sand.
-
- | Of them all, there was not any
- | But was silent for a while;
- | For the best had sins as many
- | As the sand-grains in that pile!
-
- | Then they heard the abbot saying,
- | "God alone must judge us all!"
- | And a burden, heavy weighing,
- | Seemed from every heart to fall.
-
- | Awed and hushed, but no more keeping
- | Pity crushed, or love restrained,
- | Some were smiling, some were weeping;
- | Of their striving what remained?
-
- | Many bowed in veneration;
- | Others all in haste to go
- | With a word of consolation
- | To their brother fallen low.
-
- | Hope they brought, and gentler feeling,
- | To his torn, despairing breast,
- | And that evening found him kneeling
- | In the chapel with the rest.
-
- | None arose to judge or sentence:
- | He whose sin they most deplored,
- | In his long and sad repentance,
- | Was with charity restored.
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`Il Crocifisso della Providenza`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- Il Crocifisso della Providenza
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-The crucifix about which this story is told is still
-to be seen in the church of the Carmine, where it
-is kept in the Corsini chapel; and it is always shown to
-the public on the first of May, when also (as the ballad
-relates) a *festa* is held in the house once occupied by
-the three sisters, in the Via dell' Orto.
-
-The house seems to have been little changed since
-they lived there; it now bears the number 10, and is
-easily recognized by a niche in the wall, containing a
-representation of the crucifix, and the chest piled with
-loaves.
-
-From time immemorial, a lamp burns every night
-before this little shrine: the oil is provided by the poor
-women of the vicinity (and they are very poor indeed),
-each one laying by a few *centesimi* every week for the
-purpose.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- Il Crocifisso della Providenza
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | The streets of Florence are fair to see,
- | With palace and church and tower,
- | And there the mighty of earth have dwelt,
- | And the whole world feels their power.
-
- | And many come from the East and West
- | To gaze on its beauty rare;
- | To stand where the wise and great have stood,
- | For their presence is ever there.
-
- | But they never think of the narrow streets
- | Where the poor of the city dwell;
- | Those humble houses, so bare and plain,
- | Have tales of their own to tell.
-
- | There's one by the San Frediano gate,
- | Not far from the city wall;
- | Some Latin words on its front engraved
- | The memory still recall
-
- | Of one, a beggar, to all unknown,
- | Who knocked at the door one day;
- | Of what a blessing he left behind
- | That morn when he went his way,
-
- | It happened hundreds of years ago,
- | But they tell the story still;
- | So listen now to the legend old,
- | And smile at it if you will.
-
- | But if you smile, be it not in scorn;
- | The tale which I now relate
- | Has lightened many a heavy heart
- | By the San Frediano gate.
-
- | Long since, they say, in that ancient house
- | There were orphan maidens three,
- | And in the chamber above the door,
- | Whose window you still may see,
-
- | They worked and prayed, by the world unseen;
- | And ever, the long day through,
- | The needles stitched, and the spindle twirled,
- | And the knitted garment grew.
-
- | So young, and one of them yet a child,
- | With never an earthly friend;
- | They prayed each day for the daily bread
- | Which they knew the Lord would send.
-
- | And toiling cheerfully, lived content,
- | Nor ever of want complained,
- | But freely shared with the needy poor
- | The little their labour gained.
-
- | But evil days to the sisters came,
- | And their faith was sorely tried:
- | A merchant, one of the first in town,
- | That winter had failed and died.
-
- | And many debts had he left behind,
- | And their work was all unpaid;
- | For he it was who had bought and sold
- | The delicate wares they made.
-
- | They prayed for help, and they sought for work;
- | But awhile they sought in vain.
- | They pledged the ring that their father wore,
- | And their mother's golden chain.
-
- | Then work they found, but for neighbours poor,
- | And some of them could not pay;
- | 'T was well for them that the spring began,
- | And the cold had passed away.
-
- | And one by one, as the days went on,
- | Were the household treasures sold,—
- | The copper pitcher, the brazen lamp,
- | And the nut-wood table old,
-
- | The pot of pinks from the window-sill—
- | But when they had sold them all,
- | An ancient crucifix, carved in wood,
- | Still hung on the whitewashed wall
-
- | Above the chest where the loaves were kept;
- | Such blessing its presence shed,
- | It seemed to them like a living friend,
- | And not like an image dead!
-
- | In all their troubles, in all their joys,
- | That crucifix bore a part;
- | Above all comfort, or wealth, or gain,
- | 'T was dear to the sisters' heart!
-
- | As babes, before they could understand,
- | Or ever a prayer repeat,
- | Each day their father had held them up,
- | While they kissed the carven feet.
-
- | So April came, and so April went;
- | And they lived, the Lord knows how!
- | The elder sister had saved and spared,
- | But the chest was empty now.
-
- | That very evening she broke in halves,
- | And gave to the younger two,
- | One piece of bread—'t was the last they had;
- | There was nothing more to do,
-
- | Unless, unless—and she looked at them,
- | And then at the image dear:
- | She touched it once; but her hand drew back
- | With a guilty, shrinking fear.
-
- | Her sisters saw, and they started up,
- | And they said in haste, "Not so!
- | Take back the bread, if there be no more;
- | The crucifix must not go!"
-
- | And she took courage, and kissed them both,
- | And smiled, though her eyes were wet;
- | Then looked again at the face beloved,
- | And said, "He will help us yet!"
-
- | They rose next day with the early dawn,
- | And their hearts were almost light!
- | The young need little to make them glad,
- | And the day was fair and bright.
-
- | And pleasant 't is to behold the sun,
- | Though his rosy-tinted ray
- | Could only shine on the moss-grown tiles
- | Of the roof across the way.
-
- | And the air was sweet in the narrow street
- | Where the swallows toss and glide;
- | For a perfume came on the morning breeze
- | From the hills on every side,—
-
- | A perfume faint from the woods afar,
- | From blossoming fields of corn;
- | And bells already their chimes began,
- | For this was a sacred morn.
-
- | The Carmine church is near at hand,
- | And the sisters thither hied;
- | 'T was there they had knelt in happy days
- | By the dear dead mother's side.
-
- | Then home, through the gay and festive street,
- | Till they reached the chamber bare:
- | The time had come for the morning meal,
- | And alas, no bread was there!
-
- | The elder girl on her sisters looked,
- | And her face grew white with pain.
- | Then said the one who was next in age,
- | "Let us ask the Lord again!"
-
- | So down they knelt on the red-tiled floor,
- | And the elder bowed her head,
- | And said aloud, while the others joined,
- | The prayer for their daily bread.
-
- | And then, with a tempest in her heart
- | That she could no more withstand,
- | With her arm around the younger girl,
- | And the other by the hand,
-
- | She pleaded, raising her tearful face
- | To the dying face above,
- | For those she loved in their helpless state
- | With more than a sister's love.
-
- | "O blessed Jesus! O Lord divine!
- | Have pity, we wait for Thee!
- | Look down—Thou seest our empty chest,
- | Thou knowest how poor we be!
-
- | "Oh, send some bread to my sisters dear,
- | For the cornfields all are Thine!
- | I 'd rather lie in my grave to-day
- | Than to see these children pine!
-
- | "Thou knowest, Lord, I have done my best;
- | But my hands have failed at length:
- | A mother's burden is on me laid
- | With only a maiden's strength.
-
- | "Come, help me! Look at these orphan girls!
- | Oh, save them from want and woe!—"
- | Her praying ceased, for they heard a sound,
- | A knock at the door below.
-
- | They rose, and all to the window went:
- | A beggar was at the door,
- | A poor, pale stranger, with staff in hand,
- | Who had never come before.
-
- | The Month of Mary was coming in;
- | And many were on their way
- | To ask for alms in the Virgin's name
- | On that beautiful first of May.
-
- | "My little sisters," the beggar said,
- | (And bowed to the maidens three,)
- | "I pray you spare from your table spread
- | A morsel of bread for me!
-
- | "I come from far, and I 've far to go;
- | And I 've eaten nought to-day!"
- | The elder wept, but she answered not;
- | And the second turned away.
-
- | The younger looked with her innocent eyes
- | In the beggar's pleading face:
- | "And if we could, we would give you food;
- | But we 're in as hard a case!
-
- | "We finished yesterday all we had—
- | The half of a loaf, no more!—
- | We just were asking the Lord for bread,
- | When we heard you at the door."
-
- | "Go, look in the chest, my little maid;
- | You 'll find there is bread to spare!"
- | "Alas, we have looked so many times,
- | And never a crust is there!"
-
- | "Look once again, for the love of Him
- | Whose image I see within:
- | He never has failed to help His own,
- | And He will not now begin."
-
- | So only lest it should seem unkind
- | To refuse the small request,
- | The elder girl with a patient smile
- | Went back to the empty chest.
-
- | She looked—and down on her knees she fell,
- | With a cry of glad surprise:
- | The others turned, and their breath stood still,
- | They could scarce believe their eyes!
-
- | 'T was full! And the loaves were piled so high
- | They could close the lid no more.
- | Their tears fell faster for joy that day
- | Than they fell for grief before!
-
- | But in the midst of their thankful praise
- | They thought of the starving man:
- | The little one seized the topmost loaf,
- | And back to the window ran.
-
- | She looked, she called him—he was not there!
- | They sought him, but all in vain:
- | He passed away from their sight that day,
- | And he came no more again.
-
- | So ends the story; but ever since
- | That crucifix bears the name
- | *La Providenza*; and even now
- | The house has a sacred fame.
-
- | And many kneel where the sisters knelt
- | Each year on the first of May;
- | And the floor is all bestrewn with flowers,
- | And leaves of the scented bay.
-
- | The humble room is with roses decked.
- | And bright with the candles' glow;
- | And smoke of incense, and sound of psalm,
- | Float over the street below.
-
- | A woman agèd and silver-haired
- | Once told me, with solemn thrill,
- | How she herself had beheld the chest,
- | Which stands in the chamber still.
-
- | I asked her: "Who was that beggarman?
- | An angel, do you suppose?
- | A saint from heaven?" Her face grew grave,
- | And she answered me, "Who knows?"
-
- | And then, with voice to a whisper dropped,
- | With an awed, mysterious air,
- | "Some think," she said, "'t was the Lord Himself
- | Who came at the maiden's prayer."
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`Angels in the Churchyard`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- Angels in the Churchyard
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-The story of the "Angels in the Churchyard" was
-told me by Signore Bortolo Zanchetta of Bassano,
-who said that he read it in an old book, but he had
-lost the book, and could not even remember its name.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- Angels in the Churchyard
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | A saint there was, long time ago,
- | And all in vain I tried
- | His name to learn, or whence he came,
- | Or how or where he died.
-
- | For he from whom the tale I heard
- | Could tell me nothing more
- | Save only that within him dwelt
- | Of love an endless store.
-
- | And in the churchyard once he passed
- | A summer night in prayer,
- | For pity of the nameless dead
- | Who lie forgotten there.
-
- | He knew not when the sun went down,
- | So earnestly he prayed!
- | He knew not when the twilight glow
- | Was lost in deepening shade.
-
- | And when the fair, round moon arose
- | Behind the wooded hill,
- | She looked across the churchyard wall,
- | And found him praying still.
-
- | But when the night was far along,
- | And when the moon was high,
- | When all the village lights were out,
- | And closed was every eye,—
-
- | When low above the sleeping dead
- | The folded daisies slept,
- | And he alone his patient watch
- | Until the morning kept,—
-
- | Came angels through the churchyard gate,
- | But in no heavenly guise;
- | So unadorned, he little thought
- | They came from Paradise!
-
- | The moon lit up their robes of white;
- | No other glory shone.
- | He watched them, as they paused before
- | One sunken, moss-grown stone,
-
- | And thrice their silver censers swung,
- | As at some saintly shrine,
- | But never incense burnt on earth
- | Had perfume so divine.
-
- | Between the graves they glided on:
- | Toward a cross they turned—
- | A wooden cross that bore no name—
- | And there the incense burned.
-
- | A fading garland on it hung,
- | Of wild flowers simply twined;
- | Whoever lay in that poor grave
- | Had left some love behind.
-
- | But next they sought a dreary place
- | Against the northern wall;
- | He could not see if mound were there,
- | The nettles grew so tall!
-
- | And on to others, three or four,
- | Their noiseless steps they bent:
- | Where'er they stayed, the incense rose;
- | Then, as they came, they went.
-
- | But often to that churchyard green
- | Did he at night repair;
- | And ever, when the hour returned,
- | The angels all were there.
-
- | He thought them only white-robed priests;
- | And much he wondered why
- | Each night at certain graves they stayed,
- | While others they passed by.
-
- | Till, after waiting, wondering long,
- | One night he forward pressed,
- | And spoke with one who walked apart,
- | A step behind the rest.
-
- | 'T was starlight now; the moon had waned:
- | He hardly saw the face
- | Of him he talked with; but he felt
- | Great peace was in the place.
-
- | "Of God's own saints," the angel said,
- | "A few lie buried here;
- | And He so loves them that to Him
- | Their very dust is dear!
-
- | "So, while their souls with perfect peace
- | Are in His presence blest,
- | He will not that these humble graves
- | Should all unhonoured rest.
-
- | "Each night from heaven He sends us down.
- | Where'er His flowers are sown—
- | These bodies that shall one day rise,
- | All glorious like His own!"
-
- | The saint was silent, for his lips
- | Could find no word to say:
- | He stood entranced, and like to one
- | Whose soul is far away.
-
- | At length he roused; the stars were dim,
- | The night had half withdrawn:
- | A light was in the eastern sky,
- | The clear pale light of dawn.
-
- | Then came a freshening in the air,
- | A twitter in the trees,
- | A ripple in the dewy grass
- | That felt the early breeze;
-
- | And sounded from the tower above
- | The sweet-toned, ancient bell;
- | While bright and busy over all
- | The summer morning fell.
-
- | The daisies opened; happy birds
- | Sang in the sunshine free.
- | The dead alone are sleeping now;
- | Their morning is to be.
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`The Origin of the Indian Corn`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- The Origin of the Indian Corn
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-This story was told me by the Contessa Vittoria
-Percoto Antonini of Palmanuova, who said that
-she heard it in her youth at a *Fila*, which is a sort of
-social gathering held in the winter evenings by the
-*contadini* in that part of the country.
-
-The winter is cold, and these *contadini*, who are very
-poor and can ill afford the wood for a fire, meet in the
-cattle-shed, where the breath of cows and oxen warms
-the air a little.
-
-They often say, "It is the way that the Gesù
-Bambino was warmed!" A lantern hangs from one
-of the beams overhead, and by its dim light the women
-spin or knit. All talk together, and (as the Contessa
-Vittoria expresses it) "the boys make themselves
-agreeable to the girls, very much as though it were a party
-of ladies and gentlemen."
-
-And from time to time the elder people entertain the
-company with stories, of which this is a pretty fair
-specimen.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- The Origin of the Indian Corn
-
-.. class:: center medium bold
-
- A Legend of Friuli
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | In the far Italian border land,
- | With its rolling hills and mountains grand,
- | And the Alps of Carnia rising near,
- | Where the snow lies more than half the year;
- | With crags where the clinging fir-trees grow
- | Above the chestnuts and vines below,
- | From the weary, changing world remote,—
- | There age on age doth a legend float.
- | The young have learnt it from agèd men;
- | It never was written yet with pen.
- | It seems at first, when they tell it o'er,
- | A childish fancy, and nothing more;
- | And bearing the impress, deep indeed,
- | Of the hard and struggling lives they lead:
- | A thing to smile at, and then forget,
- | Scarce worthy a passing thought—and yet
- | The simple tale may a lesson teach
- | If only one can its meaning reach!
- | Like one of their living, hill-side springs,
- | That shows the image of common things;
- | So he who looks on its surface sees
- | The bending flowers, the arching trees,
- | The sun, the shadow, the rocks, the sky,
- | The busy birds that go flitting by,
- | While deep below is the endless wealth
- | Of water, given for life and health.
-
- | In homely form is the lesson taught;
- | But worthy still of a reverent thought.
- | So listen, think; if you have a mind
- | To seek, and the hidden treasure find:
- | For Truth, most precious and fair, doth dwell
- | In the crystal depth of this mountain well.
-
- | And this is the story, often told
- | In the winter evenings long and cold;
- | In the low-roofed, dimly lighted shed,
- | Where the breath of oxen serves instead
- | Of a blazing hearth to warm the place:
- | A smile of peace is on every face,
- | And hearts are light, and they often say,
- | "Our Lord was warmed in the self-same way,
- | That night when He on the earth was born!"
- | And the shed no longer seems forlorn,
- | For it makes them feel Him near at hand:
- | And they the better can understand
- | How by His pity and timely aid
- | The beautiful Indian corn was made.
-
- | 'T was in the days when He dwelt below,
- | Before 't was given to man to know
- | Or who He was or from whence He came;
- | And the world had hardly heard His name!
- | He journeyed over the country roads,
- | He taught the poor, and He eased their loads.
- | He had no dwelling wherein to rest
- | With the one or two who loved Him best,
- | And once in seeking a friendly door
- | They came to a farmer's threshing-floor.
- | The hot July had but just begun;
- | The road lay white in the blinding sun;
- | The air was heavy with odours sweet;
- | The sky was pale, as if faint with heat.
- | Two weary men and two women pale
- | Were threshing, each with a heavy flail,—
- | A mile away you could hear the sound
- | In measured cadence along the ground.
- | Then, moved with pity at such a sight,
- | It pleased Him to make their burden light.
- | At first He prayed them to pause and rest;
- | They only smiled at the strange request,
- | And laboured on till He spoke again:
- | "Fear not, Myself I will thresh the grain!"
-
- | At sound of His holy voice, they knew
- | That what He said He would surely do!
- | He bade them bring Him a burning brand,
- | And, though they little could understand,
- | The brand was brought, and they saw Him bend,
- | And touch the corn with the lighted end.
- | Then swiftly, as by a tempest blown,
- | The straw to the farther side was thrown;
- | The wheaten kernels, all clear and bright,
- | Lay piled on high—'t was a pleasant sight!
- | Another and smaller heap contained
- | The chaff, and whatever else remained.
- | 'T was threshed and winnowed, and all in one;
- | The work of days in a moment done!
- | The happy threshers, with one accord,
- | Gave thanks and praise to the blessèd Lord;
- | And grateful tears at His feet were shed.
-
- | Meanwhile the news through the village spread;
- | For more than one had been near, and seen
- | The miracle of the wheat made clean.
- | From field and garden and cottage door,
- | The people flocked to the threshing-floor.
- | Then came a time of such joy supreme
- | As never had been in thought or dream.
- | For when they looked on the clean-threshed wheat,
- | And heard the threshers their tale repeat,
- | And knew that He had this wonder done,
- | They knelt and worshipped Him, every one!
- | Oh, think how happy they were and blest,
- | Who might awhile in His presence rest!
- | Think what it would be for you or me
- | That voice to hear and that face to see!
- | The children run to Him where He stands,
- | And cling with their little sunbrowned hands
- | To His garment; and the parents feel
- | Their burden lightened while yet they kneel.
- | "Thank God, who spared us!" the agèd say,
- | "To look on Thy blessèd face to-day!"
- | The sick are healed, and the weak made strong,
- | And hearts consoled that had suffered long:
- | A sound of gladness, of praise and prayer,
- | Floats far away on the summer air.
-
- | Amid such transports of young and old,
- | How was it that one could still be cold?
- | A certain widow whom all confessed
- | To be the bravest, perhaps the best,
- | Among the women the place contained—
- | Why was it that she aloof remained?
-
- | Handsome and stately, and strong of arm
- | To guard her fatherless babes from harm,
- | With five little hungry mouths to fill;
- | For them she laboured with might and will!
- | But, proud of spirit, she could not bear
- | That other hearts should her burden share.
- | Of soul too high for an evil deed,
- | She scorned the others, but helped their need.
- | In wit and wisdom the rest excelled,
- | And yet their kindness too oft repelled;
- | Accepted nothing, though free to give,
- | And almost rather had ceased to live
- | Than share the loaf from a neighbour's shelf.
- | Yes, proud of her very pride itself!
-
- | She nursed it, cherished it, thought it grand,
- | To guide unaided her house and land,
- | And thanked the Lord, when she knelt to pray,
- | That never one in the place could say,
- | "I help the widow!" And now she stood
- | Apart from the kneeling multitude,
- | And half impatient and half amused,
- | She smiled at the simple words they used,
- | Of praise and wonder, and thought how she
- | Could never so weak and childish be!
-
- | For her 't was a proud and happy day,
- | For rest and plenty before her lay:
- | Herself had sown and herself had reaped;
- | And now the beautiful sheaves lay heaped,
- | Not far away, by her open door;
- | Her heart rejoiced in the ample store!
- | A neighbour saw her, and called her name:
- | "Come near! perhaps He will do the same
- | For thee, and thy summer's work complete;
- | I know that thou hast not threshed thy wheat!"
-
- | She tossed her head with a smile of pride:
- | "I never yet, since my husband died,
- | Asked help or favour of any one!
- | Besides, I saw how the thing was done.
- | And I can do it as well as He;
- | He need not turn from His way for me!"
- | She looked on the awed, adoring crowd,
- | In scorn a moment; then laughed aloud,
- | To see the horror among them spread,
- | At sound of the evil words she said.
-
- | Our Lord's disciples, though saints they were,
- | Had no good wishes that day for her!
- | Indeed, their patience was greatly tried
- | To see Him slighted and thrust aside.
- | One even whispered, "Hast Thou not heard?"
- | But He said never an angry word!
- | One look of pity He on her cast,
- | Then turned, and forth from the village passed,
- | Along the lane where the grass was brown,
- | And birds were plucking the thistle-down,
- | Till under the olives' silver screen
- | He turned aside, and no more was seen.
-
- | And now the widow of heart so proud
- | Would show to the grave, indignant crowd
- | Her greater wisdom; with this intent
- | She calmly in to her fireside went;
- | Some coals she brought in an iron pan—
- | "If one can do it, another can!"
- | She said; and then with a careless smile
- | She touched the coals to her golden pile.
-
- | A flash, a crackle, a blinding blaze
- | Of flame, that struggles, and soars, and sways,
- | And sinks a moment, and soars again—
- | That was the end of the widow's grain!
- | A few short moments, and nought remained
- | Of all that her loving toil had gained
- | But blackened tinder, and embers red,
- | And the sullen smoke-cloud overhead!
-
- | Her friends and neighbours, I fear, meanwhile
- | Were far less minded to weep than smile;
- | And hardly one was with pity moved,
- | For the woman was not greatly loved.
- | And all were angry, as well as grieved,
- | To think of the slight our Lord received,
- | After his wonderful goodness shown,
- | And when He had made their cares His own!
-
- | The boys were ready to dance and shout,
- | At seeing the red sparks blown about;
- | The maidens whispered and laughed aside;
- | Their parents talked on the sin of pride.
- | To help or comfort her, no one planned,
- | Except the poorest of all the band;
- | An agèd woman, who near her came,
- | And drew her back from the scorching flame.
- | "Poor soul!" she said, "thou hast children five!
- | And I have none in the world alive.
- | Keep up thy heart! I am well content
- | To share with thee what the Lord has sent.
- | I just have gathered my harvest store,
- | And when 't is gone, He will send us more!"
-
- | In vain they spoke to her, ill or good;
- | She neither listened nor understood.
- | She minded not if they frowned or smiled;
- | Her face was white, and her eyes were wild,
- | As, lost in horror, she stood and gazed
- | To see the corn by her labour raised,
- | Their store of food for the coming year,
- | Consume before her and disappear!
- | Then came the cry of a little child,
- | From sleep awakened, in terror wild.
- | That cry brought life to her fainting heart;
- | She turned around with a sudden start,
- | And said, in a husky voice and low,
- | "Which way did that Blessèd Stranger go?"
-
- | A storm of voices around her rose;
- | The woman's purpose they all oppose.
- | "*Which way?*" they angrily say; "but how?
- | Wilt thou have courage to seek him now?
- | And after thy shameful words to-day,
- | Is He to stop for thee on His way?
- | Is He to come when He hears thy call?
- | But, woman, hast thou no shame at all?"
- | "Nay, go not near Him!" another said:
- | "That man has power to strike thee dead,
- | And thou hast angered Him! Let Him go—
- | Thy pride has ruined thee; be it so!"
-
- | Though none to help her a hand would lend,
- | That gray-haired woman was still her friend;
- | She could not speak, for her voice was drowned
- | In such a tumult of angry sound.
- | She only made with her wrinkled hand
- | A sign the widow could understand,
- | And quick as thought, and before they knew,
- | Away on her wild pursuit she flew.
-
- | Our Blessèd Lord, with His followers few,
- | Had journeyed on for a mile or two,
- | When, on the brow of a rocky hill,
- | The others noticed that He stood still
- | And looked behind Him; they did the same.
- | A woman running toward them came,
- | Running and stumbling, and falling oft,
- | And throwing wildly her arms aloft,
- | As if entreating them still to stay
- | Till she could finish the toilsome way!
- | They looked; and pity their souls possessed
- | At first in seeing her thus distressed;
- | But when they knew her, their hearts grew hard,
- | Nor would they longer her prayers regard.
- | "Good Lord, that woman it is," they say,
- | "Who scorned and slighted Thee so to-day.
- | She knows her folly, perhaps, too late;
- | For her, most surely, we should not wait!"
- | "She needs me now!" was His sole reply;
- | And still He waited—they wondered why!
-
- | Down in the dust at His feet she fell:
- | Her doleful story she could not tell,
- | For speech had failed, and she vainly tried:
- | But, stretching her helpless hands, she cried
- | (With lips that hardly the words could form,
- | They trembled so with the inward storm),
- | "Good Lord, have patience, and pity take
- | On me, for the innocent children's sake!"
- | And then from her eyes began to pour
- | A flood of tears, and she said no more.
- | She dropped her head on her heaving breast;
- | But He in His wisdom knew the rest.
- | And when He looked on her, bowed and crushed,
- | Her pride all broken, her boasting hushed,
- | "Take heart!" He said: "I will give thee more
- | And better grain than thou hadst before."
-
- | The day was drawing toward a close,
- | The sky was clear in its deep repose;
- | The sun, just sinking away from sight,
- | Had touched with a solemn crimson light
- | The smoky column that, dark and thin,
- | Still rose where the widow's sheaves had been.
- | The neighbours lingered, or came and went
- | To look, and talk of the day's event.
- | And, smiling grimly the wreck to view,
- | Some said: "The widow has had her due!"
- | But more of them shook their heads and sighed,
- | To think of the bitter fruits of pride.
- | And one old woman looked down the lane,
- | And wished the widow would come again!
- | The five poor little ones sat forlorn,
- | Beside the blackened and wasted corn;
- | And ate the bread that the neighbours brought:
- | For them, at least, there was pitying thought.
- | No sin of theirs, if the corn was burned!
- | And then it was that the Lord returned.
-
- | Returned, as ever, to save and bless!
- | And while the people around Him press,
- | The widow kneels and the children weep,
- | He lays His hand on the smouldering heap.
- | His touch has the evil work undone;
- | And in the light of the setting sun
- | The corn returned where the ashes lay;
- | But not as it was at noon that day.
- | To twice their size had the kernels grown,
- | And each with a burning lustre shone.
- | For, since that grain through the fire has passed,
- | 'T will bear its colour until the last!
-
- | A few, in seeing the store increased
- | Of her who seemed to deserve it least,
- | Began to murmur; and yet, maybe,
- | Themselves were more in the wrong than she!
- | With all her folly, with all her sin—
- | For all her ignorant pride had been
- | Far more, alas, than her reason strong,—
- | She never did Him that grievous wrong
- | Of thinking He could refuse the prayer
- | Of one who sought Him in her despair;
- | Or that her sin, were it twice as great,
- | Could close His heart to her woful state;
- | Or lie so heavily on her soul
- | But what His love could outweigh the whole!
- | But most rejoiced in the happy sight
- | Of evil conquered and wrong made right.
-
- | And so from ruin and wreck was born
- | The beautiful, flame-hued Indian corn!
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`The Eldest Daughter of the King`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- The Eldest Daughter of the King
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-The two stories of the Patriarch, St. John of
-Alexandria, which are especially interesting, as being
-without doubt true in all their principal facts, are taken
-from a short account of that wonderful man, written
-by St. Leontius, Bishop of Napolis, in Cyprus, who
-visited Alexandria after the Patriarch's death, and
-wrote in great part from the dictation of the Patriarch's
-servant, by name Zaccarias, himself a man of saintly
-character. The stories must have been written by
-St. Leontius not long after 620, when the Patriarch died.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- The Eldest Daughter of the King
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Saint John of Alexandria—blessèd name,
- | Recalling ever holy thought and deed!
- | O heart forever warm with heavenly flame!
- | O hand forever full for others' need!
-
- | Blessèd and blessing thousands! Since his day,
- | Twelve hundred years, and more, have come and gone,
- | Their beauty dead, their glory passed away:
- | But in our loving thought he still lives on.
-
- | Of all who ever walked on earthly sod,
- | (Though many loved and saintly names there be,)
- | I know not if another ever trod
- | More closely in his Master's steps than he!
-
- | To comfort all who suffer,—this alone
- | His soul desired; for this he prayed and strove
- | With heart unchanging; and for him were none
- | Too high for pity, nor too low for love.
-
- | And often was he rich, and often poor;
- | For God upon him had great wealth bestowed,
- | Which endless store of blessing did procure
- | To souls that fainted with their weary load.
-
- | Nor could he e'er from sorrow turn away,
- | Nor from a brother's need his hand withhold;
- | But when his all was spent, men used to say,
- | The good Lord gave him back a hundredfold.
-
- | Enough there was, and ever more to spare,
- | Though help abundant came at every call.
- | When prudent friends had prayed him to forbear,
- | He only said, "God has enough for all."
-
- | Till, for their souls' content, he told the truth,—
- | He being now a grey-haired agèd man,—
- | The holy vision that had blessed his youth,
- | And changed, of all his life, the course and plan.
-
- | "A boy I was, and in my father's home
- | I slept; 't was night, and I was all alone,
- | When to my side I felt a presence come;
- | A hand awakened me that touched my own.
-
- | "I saw the chamber all ablaze with light,
- | And there, before me, stood a lady fair,
- | With olive crowned, and clad in raiment bright,
- | Such as, I think, the saints in Heaven may wear.
-
- | "Hers was no earthly beauty, but a grace
- | Most sweet and solemn that no words can reach;
- | I looked awhile in her celestial face,
- | And then addressed her, but with timid speech:
-
- | "'Who art thou, O my lady, that dost bring
- | Such glory in the night?' Then answered she:
- | 'I am the eldest daughter of the King,
- | And more than all my sisters, he loves me.
-
- | "'For me He left His glory: it was I
- | Who led Him on along the thorny road,
- | To suffer, and for others' sin to die;
- | For me He shared thy sorrow, bore thy load.
-
- | "'Take me for thy companion: I will be
- | Thy friend as I was His, and by the hand
- | Will lead thee where at evening thou shalt see
- | The emperor's face, and in his presence stand.
-
- | "While yet the voice was sounding in my ear
- | The vision ceased; I saw the light no more:
- | The moon was shining through the window near,
- | And all the house was silent as before.
-
- | "And, waiting till I saw the dawn ascend,
- | I lay and mused upon this wondrous thing;
- | And tried, with my child's mind, to comprehend
- | Who was the eldest daughter of the King,
-
- | "I prayed, I pondered long in vain; until
- | A light from Heaven was on my spirit shed:
- | And not by wisdom, nor by earthly skill,
- | I knew the meaning of the words she said.
-
- | "When Christ our blessèd Lord to earth came down,
- | And gave His life for lost and thankless men,
- | And changed His glory for a thorny crown,
- | 'T was Mercy led and did constrain Him then.
-
- | "Ah, woe to us, if Mercy had not been
- | His eldest daughter, and His guide that day!
- | Then had we died, and perished in our sin,
- | Unpitied, unforgiven, cast away."
-
- | Such was the Patriarch's story, and we know
- | That Mercy in his heart her dwelling made,
- | As in no other; and his life below
- | Was Mercy, in a thousand forms displayed.
-
- | And when the summons came that comes to all,
- | As on a journey distant far he went;
- | While he, rejoicing, heard the heavenly call,
- | This token to the stricken church was sent.
-
- | A humble convent had his bounty shared,
- | From Alexandria some few miles away:
- | And there, where he for rest had oft repaired,
- | An agèd brother sick and dying lay.
-
- | For years infirm and helpless had he lain,
- | But strong in faith, and happy in God's will,
- | Through all the weary days and nights of pain,
- | His only work to suffer and lie still.
-
- | They two were friends, the Patriarch and he,
- | For oft the busy saint had loved to turn
- | From care and work, that peaceful face to see,
- | And from those patient lips some lesson learn.
-
- | And now as he lay dying, glad to go,
- | Yet thinking, maybe, of his absent friend,
- | To him was granted in a dream to know,
- | Of that most holy life, the blessèd end.
-
- | For, sleeping, he beheld in vision clear
- | That sombre palace by the poor beloved,
- | Where the good Patriarch, year after year,
- | Had all their burdens lightened or removed.
-
- | And down the stairway moved a long array
- | Of priests and others; slowly did they tread,
- | A grave procession, as on festal day,
- | And he, the Patriarch, was at their head.
-
- | The loved companions of his toil were there,
- | Who helped him long to labour and endure,
- | Who knelt beside him in the church at prayer,
- | Or bore his secret bounty to the poor.
-
- | They passed the door where none had knocked in vain,
- | They crossed the courtyard with its well of stone;
- | But at the outer gate did all remain
- | With saddened look, while he went forth alone.
-
- | And now the vision changed, he walked no more
- | The city street that knew his step so well,
- | But trod a pleasant path, unknown before,
- | Through a fair land, where peace did ever dwell.
-
- | There rose the emperor's palace on a hill,
- | O'erlooking all the country, where it lay
- | Spread out beneath it, beautiful and still,
- | In all the sweetness of an April day.
-
- | Grand was that mansion, stately to behold;
- | To tell its beauty words can ne'er begin,—
- | The thousand columns, and the domes of gold,
- | And shining all as from a light within.
-
- | He neared the palace—of their own accord
- | The lofty gates before him open swing,
- | And in the glory, as it outward poured,
- | Came forth the eldest daughter of the King,
-
- | Came as he saw her on that far-off night
- | Which star-like through his life's long journey shone,
- | Wearing her olive crown, her robe of light,
- | And came to meet him, where he walked alone,
-
- | He bowed and knelt before her, for he knew
- | That presence which had blessed him long before;
- | While from her folded mantle forth she drew
- | A crown of olive, like the one she wore,
-
- | And placed it on the saintly silvered head;
- | Then took his hand. He rose; nor did they wait:
- | The dreamer watched them as they onward sped,
- | Till, hand in hand, they entered through the gate.
-
- | And then, as light concealed them, he awoke,
- | And to the brethren, gathered in his cell,
- | In tearful silence listening while he spoke,
- | He did the story of his vision tell,
-
- | And bade them note what hour the dream was sent,
- | Which some with anxious hearts made haste to do;
- | Then waited, fearing what the vision meant;
- | Till time had shown them all they feared was true.
-
- | For when the dreaded tidings came at last,
- | They knew that on that very hour and day
- | Their much-loved father from this life had passed,
- | In his own isle of Cyprus, far away.
-
-
-
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-.. _`Bishop Troilus`:
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- Bishop Troilus
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- Bishop Troilus
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- THE MANSION IN HEAVEN
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- | In pomp and state, with following great, the Bishop Troilus came
- | To the town of Alexandria, which knew him long by fame,
- | To see the holy Patriarch, who had been his friend of old,
- | To hear his words of wisdom, and his saintly life behold.
- | In youth their paths together lay, and both with one accord
- | Had chosen then the better part, and thought to serve the Lord;
- | For half a century now and more had each one gone his way.
- | The Patriarch nearer was to God, far nearer than that day;
- | For his soul was like a garden where the flowers that then were sown,
- | With care and patient tending, had to perfect beauty grown.
-
- | And Troilus? ... In the world's esteem he stood as high, or higher;
- | His piety did all men praise, his eloquence admire;
- | He had fiery words to thrill them, he had flowery words to please,
- | And when he preached on festal days, the people swarmed like bees;
- | From altar steps to open door there was hardly room to stand.
- | And 't was not the sermon only, but his presence was so grand;
- | With his grave and agèd beauty, with his form erect and tall,
- | With saintly face and silver hair, he won the hearts of all.
- | When through the city he returned, so lofty and serene,
- | A train of priests attended him, all with obsequious mien;
- | And children followed open-eyed, and gentle ladies bent
- | From balcony and window high to see him as he went.
- | Indeed he was a stately sight in silken raiment clad,
- | The ring he wore was valued more than aught the Patriarch had;
- | And the cross upon his bosom, that the people wondering viewed,
- | Gave back the sunshine, when he walked, from jewels many-hued.
- | And men said his life was blameless, but it still must be confessed,
- | Though the saints were glad to own him, yet the sinners loved him best.
- | He was rich, and he was famous, and, as all his life had shown,
- | He was great in worldly wisdom, and the world will love its own.
-
- | But while saints and shiners praised him, there was one who did not praise,
- | But whose eyes forever watched him with a sad and anxious gaze;
- | For the Patriarch, simple-hearted, was not dazzled like the rest,
- | And he knew the deadly passion that the Bishop's soul possessed,—
- | Yes, more deadly than another, for it lay so still and cold,
- | Like a serpent coiled within him,—'twas the growing love of gold.
-
- | It had choked away his pleasure, it had eaten up his peace,
- | As with every year that left him he had seen his wealth increase,
- | Till his heart grew dry and withered in the smoke of worldly care;
- | But it dulled him with its poison, and he knew not it was there.
- | Oh, the Patriarch longed to see him from such cruel bondage free,
- | And he pleaded hard for Troilus every night on bended knee;
- | For there yet was time to save him, so he hoped and so believed,
- | But the days and weeks were passing, and no answer he received.
-
- | But with praying he grew bolder, and to combat he began,
- | And he left his door one morning with a wise and hopeful plan;
- | And he said in solemn murmur, as he walked along the way,
- | "I must go and fight with Satan for my brother's soul to-day;
- | He is cruel, he is cunning, but his arts will be in vain,
- | The strongest net he ever wove will never bear the strain
- | Of seeing and of hearing what each day I hear and see,
- | And the Lord has saved my brother if he will but come with me."
-
- | It was in the early morning, long before the noise and heat,
- | And the life was just beginning in the shady city street,
- | When he saw a church door open, and he turned and entered in.
- | "I will ask the Lord to help me in this work that I begin."
-
- | There were some who entered near him, and he saw they came in haste,
- | Toiling men and burdened women, who had little time to waste;
- | But they stole some precious minutes in that church to kneel and pray,
- | To refresh their souls and cheer them for the labours of the day;
- | And they gathered close around him on the pavement, for they felt
- | That their prayers would rise the higher if their father with them knelt.
- | Then he said to them: "My children, you must help me now indeed,
- | For my heart and soul are troubled for a friend in sorest need;
- | He is low with mortal sickness, but no earthly skill can cure.
- | Pray the Lord to show His mercy to the poorest of the poor."
- | So they knelt and prayed together, till the morning sun was high,
- | For the Patriarch's heart was kindled, and the time went quickly by.
-
- | Troilus too had risen early, and had said his morning prayers,
- | But he said them somewhat coldly, being filled with other cares.
- | At that moment he was thinking, while he counted up his store,
- | Upon certain silver goblets he had seen the day before,
- | Which a silversmith had brought him, and had hoped that he would buy.
- | They were nobly wrought and chiselled, and the price indeed was high,
- | But he thought upon his table they would look exceeding fine
- | When his friends, the rich and noble, should come in with him to dine;
- | Then how all of them would envy, and the thought his spirit cheered,—
- | When a gentle knock aroused him, and the Patriarch appeared.
- | Very bright his eyes were shining, and his face was all aglow,
- | But his voice was strange and solemn, when he told him, "I must go
- | To the hospital, my brother, and I came here on my way;
- | If we both could go together, it would be a happy day.
- | There I find my greatest blessing, every morning fresh and new,
- | But far greater, but far sweeter could I share it once with you."
- | How the heart of Troilus softened, as those eyes upon him shone,
- | At their look of earnest pleading, at the tremor in the tone!
- | Strange it was that look could melt him and that voice could change him so,
- | Calling back to life, a moment, what had withered long ago,—
- | Some old good that stirred within him, often spurned and thrust aside.
- | But the flowers the Lord had planted, though they dwindled, had not died;
- | He was poor in heavenly treasure, but he loved the Patriarch still.
- | "I will come," he answered quickly; "you may lead me where you will."
-
- | There were looks and tones of wonder in the hospital that day,
- | From the rows of low white couches where the sick and dying lay,
- | As, with all his train about him, in his splendour and his pride,
- | On he walked, the Bishop Troilus, by the simple Patriarch's side.
- | But erelong the two were parted, for as Troilus looked around,
- | He recoiled in shrinking horror from each doleful sight and sound;
- | While the Patriarch loved to linger for a while by every bed,
- | With his strong arms ever ready to sustain a drooping head;
- | Happy in each humble service, and forgetting all his state,
- | While he thanked the Lord who sent him on these stricken ones to wait.
- | How the pale sad faces brightened into smiles as he drew near,
- | And what loving words were murmured, faintly murmured in his ear!
-
- | "Does he well," said Bishop Troilus, as he saw him turn and go
- | From one bedside to another, "does he well to stoop so low?"
- | Yet had Troilus only known it, they were not the poor alone
- | Whom his brother served that morning, but their Master and his own.
- | There was one but just recovered, light of heart, though poor and weak,
- | With a journey long before him, going forth his home to seek,
- | Far away among the mountains where his wife and children stayed;
- | But the Patriarch's love had found him ere the stranger sought his aid,
- | Giving money for the journey, giving blessèd words of cheer.
- | Then he turned, for time was pressing, and a sadder face lay near,
- | Worn by months of pain and languor; he was young, had once been strong,
- | He was fading now, but slowly, and perhaps would suffer long,
- | And the hundred wants of sickness who can know that has not proved?
- | He had wearied all about him, but the Patriarch's heart was moved;
- | So he heard the long complaining to which no one else gave heed,
- | Then he left him, soothed and peaceful, with enough for all his need.
- | So with one and with another for a moment he would stay,
- | At each bed he left a blessing, and a blessing brought away,
- | Till his purse grew light and empty, as had happened oft before;
- | Though he turned it up and shook it, there was not one penny more.
-
- | Then he turned and sought for Troilus, who that moment, as it chanced,
- | With a look subdued and solemn, stood and gazed, like one entranced,
- | On the strange, unearthly beauty, on the light of perfect peace
- | In a woman's face before him; she was nearing her release,
- | And a glory rested on her from the opening door above;
- | Yet one shadow marred its splendour when she looked with anxious love
- | On a little maid, her daughter, with a pretty, careworn face,
- | Who had brought two younger children, waiting now for her embrace,
- | Wondering why she did not give it, why so deadly still she lay,
- | For they knew not, though she knew it, she would not live out the day.
- | Said the Patriarch: "Brother Troilus, have you nothing you could give
- | To this woman and her children, for she has not long to live?
- | And I see her mind is troubled, and I think, before they part,
- | Had she something she could leave them, it would ease her burdened heart;
- | For myself, I freely promise I will make these babes my care,
- | But to-day my purse is empty, so I pray you not to spare."
-
- | Oh! alas, poor Bishop Troilus! how this pleading broke the spell
- | That the woman's look had woven, and how low his spirit fell!
- | For he dearly loved his money, with a passion deep and blind,
- | As a scholar loves his learning, or a saint his peace of mind.
- | But the eyes of all were on him at that moment, and he knew
- | 'T was in hopeful expectation of what such a saint would do;
- | There were many who had entered from the busy street to gaze,
- | He would not be shamed before them, they should still have cause to praise;
- | But his purse would have to open, so he turned and waved his hand
- | To the priest who always bore it, with a gesture of command.
- | "For this woman for her daughter and the two poor babes," said he,
- | "Lay down thirty golden pieces in the Patriarch's hand for me."
-
- | There were none who had not heard him, for his voice was loud and clear,
- | And a low, admiring murmur rose from all the couches near,
- | While the Patriarch stood rejoicing in the deed his friend had done;
- | By himself he judged another, and he thought the victory won.
- | For one moment Bishop Troilus feels his narrow heart expand,
- | When the maiden thanks him weeping, and the children kiss his hand,
- | And the mother, just departing, from the pillow where she lies,
- | Turns one happy smile upon him, with a blessing in her eyes.
-
- | But alas! on home returning, when the sacrifice was made,
- | When the Patriarch's holy presence was no longer there to aid,
- | He did much bewail his money; half in anger, half in pain,
- | To have parted in a moment with what took so long to gain.
- | And his heart was in a turmoil, and a pain was in his head,
- | Till the raging turned to fever, and he threw him on his bed
- | In a storm of angry passion that no reason could control;
- | For to him to part with money was like parting with his soul.
- | But he said no word to any of this rage and inward strife,
- | And the priests who waited on him were in terror for his life,
- | And as nothing made him better, they took counsel, and agreed
- | That the Patriarch, and he only, was the man to meet their need;
- | So they sent and humbly prayed him if to come he would be pleased,
- | For his friend the Bishop Troilus was with sudden illness seized.
-
- | In his chamber lay the Bishop, sick in body, sick in mind;
- | But the Patriarch, wise in spirit, had his malady divined.
- | So he came and sat beside him, patient still, but pale with grief,
- | While he made one last endeavour for that troubled soul's relief.
- | But his friend was sore and angry, and his words he would not hear,
- | For the presence now disturbed him that had lately been so dear.
- | And he lay with face averted, till he heard the Patriarch say,
- | "I have brought you back the money that you gave away to-day."
- | Then indeed he started wildly, and his eyes he opened wide,
- | And he turned and faced his brother with a joy he could not hide;
- | For with sudden hope he trembled, and it paled his fevered cheek;
- | And the Patriarch's heart was sinking, but he still went on to speak:
- | "When I asked your help this morning, I had nothing of my own,
- | So I left to you the blessing which had else been mine alone;
- | For those three dear orphan children I had gladly done the whole,
- | So their mother up in heaven might be praying for my soul.
- | And I now have come to ask you if this grace you will resign,—
- | Will you take again the money, and let your good deed be mine?
- | Yet I pray you to consider, ere you grant it or refuse,
- | What a great and heavenly treasure I shall win and you will lose;
- | For indeed I would not wrong you, though to me the gain be great.
- | So then do not answer rashly,—there is time, we both can wait,
- | And 't were well to think a little on the words our Master said,
- | How He left the poor behind, that we might serve them in His stead;
- | And whatever help we grant them, be it great or be it small,
- | To our blessèd Lord we give it, to our Lord, who gave us all."
-
- | Then made answer Bishop Troilus, "As for what you now propose,
- | If it please you I am ready, and the bargain we can close.
- | There are many kinds of service, and each needful in its way,
- | And I think the Lord has set me in His church to preach and pray,
- | And to save the souls that perish, and to teach men how to live,
- | While your own vocation, brother, is with open hand to give.
- | Let not one defraud the other, take your part and leave me mine,
- | For however we may divide it, all the service is divine.
- | Let us feed God's flock together, for His needy children care,
- | I the souls, and you the bodies, so the burden we may share."
- | "Then so be it," said the other, but his voice was low and grave,
- | And he prayed to God in silence for the soul he could not save.
- | "We must write it all in order, we must sign and seal it too,
- | So that mine may be the blessing, while the gold remains with you."
-
- | So they wrote a contract solemn, to which each one signed his name,
- | In which he, the Bishop Troilus, did relinquish every claim
- | To whatever reward or merit his one pious deed had earned,
- | Since the thirty golden pieces to his hand had been returned.
- | Then the Patriarch counted slowly all the pieces, one by one,
- | In the open hand of Troilus, and his last attempt was done.
- | All had failed, and heavy-hearted from that chamber forth he went,
- | While his friend lay still and smiling in the fullness of content;
- | For the fever now had left him, and 't was sweet to lie and rest,
- | With no more a thorn to vex him in his smooth, untroubled breast.
- | With a dreamy satisfaction he was thinking all the while
- | How those pretty shining pieces would increase the golden pile
- | In that chest of hoarded treasure that already held so much;
- | And he laid his hand upon them with a fond caressing touch.
- | But his thoughts began to wander, and his eyes were closing soon,
- | In the drowsy heat and stillness of the summer afternoon.
-
- | Then a dream was sent to bless him, as in quiet sleep he lay,
- | And it bore him in a vision to the country far away;
- | And he saw the holy city, where the saints and angels dwell;
- | Of its glory, of its beauty, mortal tongue can never tell.
- | There were palm-trees growing stately by the water, crystal clear;
- | There was music ever swelling, sometimes far and sometimes near,
- | As it rose in mystic cadence from the hearts that overflowed
- | With the joy that reigns forever in their beautiful abode.
- | And the people of that city whom he met along the way
- | On the shining golden pavement, oh, how full of peace were they!
- | For he thought some heavenly vision shone forever in their sight,
- | And he looked where they were gazing, but he only saw the light
- | As it flooded all with glory, and the air it seemed to fill;
- | But he saw not what they looked on, for his eyes were mortal still.
- | Now among those lighted faces there were some he knew before,
- | Of the poor to whom so often he had closed his heart and door;
- | Such as in the heavenly city he had little thought to find,
- | For the sad and sick and needy had been never to his mind:
- | Of the rich were not so many, yet a few of these beside,
- | Who by deeds of love and mercy had their Master glorified.
- | And in perfect health and beauty, among all that bright array,
- | Was the woman he saw dying in the hospital that day.
-
- | All along the road he travelled, to the left and to the right,
- | Rose the palaces they dwelt in, each a mansion of delight,
- | But all varying in their beauty, far away as eye could reach,
- | With a name in golden letters, high above the door of each.
- | And sweet faces smiled upon him, from the windows here and there,
- | Gentle faces free forever from the shade of earthly care;
- | And he heard the happy voices of the children as they played
- | In the fair and peaceful gardens, where the roses never fade;
- | And the things he left behind him seemed so very poor and small,
- | That he wondered, in that glory, why men cared for them at all.
-
- | But oh, wonder of all wonders, when he saw a name that shone
- | O'er a high and arching doorway, yes, a name that was his own!
- | Could it be his eyes deceived him? No, he read it o'er and o'er;
- | "This," it said, "of Bishop Troilus is the home forevermore."
- | Oh the beauty of that palace, with such light and splendour filled,
- | That he thought the clouds of sunset had been hewn its walls to gild;
- | And the golden door stood open, he could catch a glimpse within
- | Of the vast illumined chambers where no foot had ever been.
- | He could only gaze bewildered, for the wonder was too great,
- | And the joy so poured upon him he could hardly bear the weight.
- | Then he took one step toward it, but a servant of the King
- | Who from far-off earth that morning had returned on busy wing,
- | And was bearing gifts and tokens from the scattered church below,
- | Came and passed and stood before him, in the courtyard's golden glow.
-
- | Then he turned to his companions, for a few had gathered near,
- | And his words fell hard and heavy on the Bishop's listening ear,—
- | "We must cancel that inscription from the stone, and write thereon
- | That Troilus hath this palace sold unto the Patriarch John,
- | And that thirty golden pieces were the price that he received."
- | Up then started Bishop Troilus, for his soul was sorely grieved,
- | And he tried to speak, but could not, and awoke in his dismay,
- | With his hand upon the money close beside him where he lay.
-
- | Now the long bright day was over; as he saw the sun descend,—
- | "Weary day," the Patriarch thought it; he was glad to see it end.
- | He was walking in his garden where the freshening shadows lay,
- | And the flowers that drooped at noontime stood erect in beauty gay;
- | But their brightness could not cheer him, and he bent his head and sighed,
- | For he thought, with wondering sadness, that the Lord his prayer denied,
-
- | Then he heard a step behind him, and he looked; but who was there,
- | Wild of look, like one who struggled with a pain he could not bear?
- | Could it be the stately Bishop? Yes, but oh, how changed to see!
- | And he said with tears and trembling, "O my brother, pray for me!"
- | How the Patriarch's heart rebounded from the weight that on it pressed,
- | At the change so deep and sudden, in those broken words expressed!
- | How his cheek grew red with gladness, how it smoothed his troubled brow!
- | "God forgive me if I doubted, all my prayers are answered now."
-
- | "Come," he said, "my brother Troilus, sit beside me, tell me all;"
- | And he led him, pale and helpless, to a seat beside the wall.
- | And there Troilus, clinging closely to that strong and helpful hand,
- | Trusting in the heart that loved him and his thoughts could understand,
- | Told the story of his vision to his awed and listening friend,—
- | All that dream of light and glory, with its sad, unlooked-for end:
- | But his voice, which trembled ever, wellnigh failed him when he told
- | Of the horror of that waking, with his hand upon the gold;
- | When his eyes, long blind, were opened, and he saw the wreck within,
- | And one fearful moment, showed him what his wasted life had been.
- | "Now," he said, "my courage fails me when I think to mend my ways.
- | I have wasted all God gave me,—mind, and strength, and length of days,—
- | And the gold I gave my soul for pulls me downward with its weight;
- | Help me if you can, oh, help me! Say it is not yet too late."
- | And he looked with eyes beseeching at the Patriarch, who replied
- | With a smile that fell like sunshine on the faint heart by his side,—
-
- | "What! too late for God's forgiveness, when He calls you to repent?
- | 'T was to save you, not to lose you, that the blessèd dream was sent;
- | 'T is His help, not mine, my brother, you are needing, and you know,
- | If we ask it, He will give it, for Himself has told us so.
- | And the prodigal returning shall be welcomed all the more
- | If the years were long and many since he left his Father's door."
- | "But," said Troilus, "I am agèd, and my manhood's strength is past;
- | After such a life ungodly, can I hope for grace at last?"
- | "Never fear," the Patriarch answered, "there is joy in heaven to-day,
- | And they ask not in their gladness if your hair be black or gray."
-
- | So then Troilus gathered courage, and that night, by deed and word,
- | Gave himself and all his substance to the service of the Lord;
- | Yet in his own strength mistrusting, he implored his friend anew
- | With his daily prayer to aid him, and he promised so to do.
- | And the thirty golden pieces he returned to him again,
- | Yes, and other thirty with them, for the change was not in vain,
-
- | Then he left the past behind him, and a better life began;
- | From that evening in the garden he became another man.
- | There was no more train about him when he walked the city through,
- | For the priests who once attended now had better work to do;
- | And the ladies cared no longer from their balconies to lean,
- | When of worldly pomp and splendour there was nothing to be seen.
- | For the cross of many jewels on his bosom shone no more,
- | Having gone on works of mercy to increase his heavenly store.
- | But the poor and needy sought him; he was now their faithful friend,
- | And they knew, whatever befell them, on his love they might depend.
-
- | So his closing days were happy, after years of sordid care,
- | For no gain can bring contentment till the poor have had their share;
- | And he lightened many a burden, and he righted many a wrong,
- | And the wealth became a blessing that had been a curse so long;
- | And his secret hoard was scattered, and men said that he died poor,
- | But he found great wealth in heaven at the end, we may be sure.
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-.. _`The Crosses on the Wall`:
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- The Crosses on the Wall
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-This beautiful legend has for me a most peculiar
-interest, owing to the circumstances under which I
-first heard it. It was taught to me by a very dear
-young friend whom I had known and loved from his
-infancy,—Piero, the only surviving child of Count
-Giuseppe Pasolini Zanelli of Faenza. It was only last
-October—eight months ago—and we were all staying
-together in the home of his beloved and still beautiful
-grandmother, at Bassano, in the Veneto. It was the
-last evening that we expected to pass together, and
-Pierino (we had never been able to give up calling him
-by that childish diminutive) brought a book with him,
-a collection of popular legends compiled by De Gubernatis,
-and said that he had a story to read us. It was
-"The Crosses on the Wall," and it has always seemed
-to me as though he read it on that particular evening
-to prepare us for what was to come. For some months
-he had been not quite so strong as usual, yet no one
-felt any particular apprehension, until on the
-twenty-eighth of November he died, almost without warning.
-He was twenty-two years old, of a very beautiful
-character,—so good that we ought to have known he
-was not for us.
-
-With him two great and ancient families come to an
-end,—the Pasolini-Zanelli of Faenza, and the
-Baroni-Semitecolo of Bassano: these last are the only
-descendants of that Semitecolo who worked in mosaic at
-Torcello.
-
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- The Crosses on the Wall
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- A Legend of Primiero
-
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-
- | Come, children, listen to what I tell,
- | For my words are wise to-day:
- | From Primiero among the hills
- | Was the legend brought away.
-
- | And Primiero among the hills
- | Is a little world apart,
- | Where is much to love and much to learn,
- | If you have a willing heart.
-
- | It lies on high, like a stranded ship,
- | From the parted wave of time;
- | Not far from the troubled world we know,
- | But the way is hard to climb.
-
- | For the mountains rise and close it in,
- | With their walls of green and gray;
- | With crag and forest and smooth-worn cliff,
- | Where the clouds alone can stray.
-
- | And when a house they have builded there,
- | If a blessing they would win,
- | Above the door do they write a prayer,
- | That Christ may dwell therein.
-
- | And I think, throughout the ancient town,
- | On its steep ascending road,
- | In many a heart, in many a home,
- | Has He taken His abode.
-
- | And when a burden is hard to bear—
- | And such burdens come to all—
- | They tell the story I 'm telling now,
- | Of the crosses on the wall.
-
- | 'T is a pearl of wisdom, gathered far
- | In the dim and distant past;
- | But ever needed, but ever new,
- | As long as the world shall last.
-
- | For never has been since earth was made,
- | And surely shall never be,
- | A man so happy or wise or great,
- | He might from the cross be free.
-
- | The tale it is of a widow poor,
- | And by trouble sorely pressed;
- | Of how, through sorrow and many tears,
- | At the end her soul was blest.
-
- | She had not been always poor and sad,
- | For her early years were bright,
- | With a happy home, and with parents kind,
- | And herself their hearts' delight!
-
- | A mother's darling, a father's pride,
- | She was fair in form and face;
- | A sunny creature, a joy to all,
- | For her sweet and winning grace.
-
- | Then, early married to one she loved,
- | She had still been shielded well;
- | For her he laboured, for her he thought,
- | And on her no burden fell.
-
- | She worked, indeed; but what work was hers
- | Through the short and happy hours?
- | To pluck the fruit from her orchard trees,
- | Or to tend the garden flowers;
-
- | To sit and spin, and to sing the while
- | In her porch with roses gay;
- | To spread the table with plenty piled,
- | And to watch the children play.
-
- | Their home was a little nest of peace;
- | 'T was a mile beyond the town,
- | In that sheltered valley, green with woods,
- | Where the river murmurs down.
-
- | And she never dreamed of change to come,
- | (Though a change must all expect,)
- | Till the blow, like lightning, on her fell,
- | And her happy life was wrecked.
-
- | But who could have thought the man would die?
- | There were few so strong as he!
- | From his forest work they bore him home,
- | Struck dead by a falling tree.
-
- | A petted child, and a wife beloved,
- | She had hardly sorrow known,
- | Till the strong, brave man was borne away,
- | And she faced the world alone.
-
- | Alone, with a babe too young to speak,
- | And with other children five:
- | "Oh, why," she asked, "are the strong removed
- | And the feeble left alive?"
-
- | But where is the good of asking
- | When our helpers disappear?
- | That question never was answered yet,
- | And it never will be, here.
-
- | There was little time to sit and weep;
- | She must rise, and bear the strain;
- | Alone she stood, with the home to keep,
- | And the children's bread to gain.
-
- | The best of herself had gone with him;
- | She had no more faith nor trust:
- | She could not bow to the Lord's decree,
- | For she felt it all unjust.
-
- | The good Lord cares for a widow's need,
- | But on Him she did not call.
- | She laboured hard, and she fought with fate,
- | And they lived—but that was all.
-
- | She fought her battle with fate, and failed,
- | As many have failed before;
- | If against the thorns we push and press,
- | They will only prick the more.
-
- | She could not bear with the children now,
- | And she called them rude and wild;
- | Forgetting quite, in her sullen grief,
- | That she had been once a child.
-
- | Yes, wild they were; and like all wild things
- | They were light and swift and strong;
- | And her poor, sick spirit turned away
- | From the gay, unruly throng.
-
- | They swam the river, they climbed the trees,
- | They were full of life and play;
- | But oft, when their mother's voice they heard,
- | They hid from her sight away.
-
- | They did not love her, and that she knew,
- | And of that she oft complained;
- | But not by threats nor by angry words
- | Could the children's love be gained.
-
- | Respect and honour we may command;
- | They will come at duty's call:
- | But love, the beautiful thornless rose,
- | Grows wild, when it grows at all.
-
- | And she grew bitter, as time went on,
- | Grew bitter and hard and sore.
- | Till one day she cried in her despair,
- | "I can bear my life no more!
-
- | "Look down from Heaven, good Lord, and see
- | And pity my cruel fate!
- | Oh, come, and in mercy take away
- | My burden, for 't is too great!
-
- | "My heart is breaking with all its load,
- | And I feel my life decline;
- | Never I think did the woman live
- | Who has borne a cross like mine!"
-
- | To her cry for help an answer came,
- | And solemn it was, and strange!
- | For a silence deep around her fell,
- | And the place seemed all to change.
-
- | She stood in a sad and sombre room,
- | Where from ceiling down to floor,
- | Along the wall and on every side,
- | There were crosses—nothing more.
-
- | There were crosses old, and crosses new,
- | There were crosses large and small;
- | And in their midst there was One who stood
- | As the Master of them all.
-
- | Before His presence her eyes dropped low,
- | And her wild complaining died;
- | For she knew the cross that He had borne
- | Was greater than all beside.
-
- | And He bade her choose, and take away,
- | From among the many there,
- | Another cross, in exchange for hers,
- | That she found too great to bear.
-
- | She looked for those that were least in size,
- | And she quickly lifted one;
- | But oh, 't was heavy, and pained her more
- | Than her own had ever done!
-
- | She laid it back with a trembling hand—
- | "And whose cross is that?" she cried;
- | "For heavier 't is than even mine!"
- | And a solemn voice replied:
-
- | "That cross belongs to a maiden young,
- | But of youth she little knows;
- | For the days to her are days of pain,
- | And the night brings scant repose.
-
- | "A helpless, suffering, useless thing!
- | And her pain will never cease,
- | Till death in pity will come one day,
- | And her troubles end in peace.
-
- | "She never has walked the pleasant fields,
- | Nor has sat beneath the trees;
- | The hospital wall that shuts her in
- | Is the only world she sees.
-
- | "She has no mother, she has no home,
- | And in strangers' hands she lies;
- | With none to care for her while she lives,
- | Nor weep for her when she dies."
-
- | "But why is the cross so small, my Lord,
- | And why does her heart not break?"
- | "She counts it little," the answer came,
- | "For she bears it for my sake."
-
- | The widow blushed with a sudden shame;
- | To her eyes the tears arose:
- | She dried them soon, and again she turned,
- | And another cross she chose.
-
- | It fell from her hand against the wall,
- | And she let it there remain:
- | "That cross shall never be mine," she said,
- | "Though I take my own again!
-
- | "And whose is this that I cannot hold?
- | For it seems to burn my hand!
- | And never, I think, was heart so strong
- | That could such a weight withstand."
-
- | "The cross it is of a gentle wife,
- | And she wears it all unseen;
- | With early sorrow her hair is white,
- | But she keeps a smile serene.
-
- | "She gave her heart to an evil man,
- | And she thought him good and true;
- | And long she trusted and long believed,
- | But at last the truth she knew.
-
- | "She knows that his soul is stained with crime,
- | But the worst she still conceals;
- | Abuse and terror her sole reward,
- | And the Lord knows what she feels!
-
- | "She cannot leave him, for love dies hard,
- | And her children bear his name;
- | But she prays for grace, to keep and guard
- | Their innocent lives from shame.
-
- | "She trembles oft when his step she hears
- | On a lonely winter night;
- | And she hides her frightened babes afar
- | From their cruel father's sight.
-
- | "And she dares not even hope for death,
- | Though his hand might set her free:
- | 'T were well for her in the grave to rest;
- | But where would the children be?"
-
- | The widow shuddered, her face grew pale,
- | And she no more turned to look:
- | She reached her hand to the wall near by,
- | And a cross by chance she took.
-
- | 'T was not so large as the first had been,
- | But it seemed a fearful weight!
- | "And whose am I holding now?" she asked,
- | For it did not look so great.
-
- | "A mother's cross is the one you bear,"
- | So the voice in answer said,
- | "And she once had children six like you;
- | But her children all are dead.
-
- | "She has all besides that earth can give;
- | She has friends and wealth to spare,
- | And house and land—but she counts them not,
- | For the children are not there.
-
- | "Time passes slowly, and she grows old;
- | But she may not yet depart.
- | In lonely splendour she counts the years,
- | With an empty, hungry heart.
-
- | "And she knows by whom the cross was sent,
- | And she tries her head to bow;
- | But six green mounds by the churchyard wall
- | Are the most she cares for now."
-
- | The widow thought of her own wild brood,
- | And she felt a creeping chill:
- | And, "Oh, give me back my cross!" she said,
- | "I will keep and bear it still.
-
- | "Forgive me, Lord" (and with that she knelt,
- | And for very shame she wept).
- | "I know my sin, that I could not bow,
- | Nor Thy holy will accept.
-
- | "Oh, give me patience, for life is hard;
- | And the daily strength I need!
- | And by Thy grace I will try to bear
- | The burden for me decreed.
-
- | "I'll change my ways with the children now,
- | Though they give me added cares.
- | Poor babes! I know, if they love me not,
- | That the blame is mine, not theirs!"
-
- | She kept her word as the weeks went on,
- | And she fought with fate no more:
- | 'T was now with a patient, humble heart
- | That her daily cross she bore.
-
- | The children wondered to see her change
- | So greatly in look and speech!
- | She met them now with a smile so kind,
- | And a gentle word for each.
-
- | And soon they learned, from her altered ways,
- | What her words had vainly taught;
- | Their love, that long she had claimed in vain,
- | Came back to her all unsought.
-
- | There were merry shouts and dancing feet,
- | When the mother came in sight;
- | There were little arms around her thrown,
- | There were eyes with joy alight.
-
- | With love for teacher, they learned to help,
- | There was work for fingers small:
- | Her heart grew soft like the earth in spring,
- | And she thanked the Lord for all!
-
- | Her girls so pretty, her boys so brave,
- | And so helpful all and kind!
- | She wondered often, and thought with shame
- | Of how she had once repined.
-
- | For in their presence she oft forgot
- | Her burden of want and care,
- | Forgot her trouble—forgot, almost,
- | That she had a cross to bear!
-
-
-
-
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-.. _`Suora Marianna`:
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- Suora Marianna
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- Suora Marianna
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-
- | Little children, will you listen to a simple tale of mine,
- | That I learned at San Marcello, in the Tuscan Apennine,
- | From an agèd, saintly woman, gone to heaven long ago?
- | It has helped me on my journey, and as yet you cannot know
- | Half the wisdom stored within it, nor the comfort it can give;
- | But still, try and not forget it! You will need it if you live,
- | And some day, when life is waning and your hands begin to tire,
- | You will think of Marianna, and her vision by the fire.
-
- | In a convent, old and quiet, near a little country town,
- | On a chestnut-shaded hillside, to the river sloping down,
- | Dwelt a few of those good sisters who go out among the poor,
- | Who must labour late and early, and much weariness endure;
- | And the one who did in patience and in all good works excel
- | Was the Sister Marianna, she whose story now I tell.
-
- | She was ever kind and willing, for each heavy task prepared:
- | No one ever thought to spare her, and herself she never spared.
- | All unpraised and all unnoticed, bearing burdens not her own,
- | Yet she lived as rich and happy as a queen upon her throne!
-
- | She was rich, though few would think it; for God gave her grace to choose,
- | Not the world's deceitful riches, but the wealth one cannot lose.
- | There are many heap up treasure, but it is not every one
- | Who will take his treasure with him when his earthly life is done.
-
- | Was she beautiful? I know not. She had eyes of peaceful light,
- | And her face looked sweet and blooming in its frame of linen white.
- | To the sick and heavy-hearted she was pleasant to behold,
- | And she seemed a heavenly vision to the feeble and the old.
- | She was happy when she wandered up the wandering mountain road,
- | Bearing food and warmth and blessing to some desolate abode,
- | Though the ice-cold winds were blowing and her woman's strength was tried;
- | For she knew who walked there with her, in her heart and by her side.
- | She was happy—oh, so happy!—in her little whitewashed cell
- | Looking out among the branches, where they gave her leave to dwell
- | In her scanty hours of leisure; for there, looking from the wall,
- | Were the dear and holy faces that she loved the best of all.
-
- | 'T was an old and faded picture, poorly painted at the best,
- | Of Our Lord, the Holy Infant, in His Mother's arms at rest.
- | But her faith and loving fancy had a glory to it lent,
- | And the faces that she saw there were not what the artist meant
- | And the wooden shelf before it she would often-times adorn
- | With the buttercup and bluebell, and the wild rose from the thorn,
- | Which she gathered, when returning, while the morning dew was bright,
- | From some home, remote and lonely, where she watched the sick by night.
- | So her life was full of sunshine, for in toiling for the Lord
- | She had found the hidden sweetness that in common things lies stored:
- | He has strewn the earth with flowers, and each eye their brightness sees;
- | But He filled their cups with honey, for His humble working bees.
-
- | But there came a time—poor sister!—when her rosy cheek grew pale,
- | And her eyes, with all their sunlight, seemed to smile as through a veil;
- | And her step was weak and heavy, as she trod the steep ascent,
- | Where through weeks of wintry weather to her loving work she went.
- | 'T was a foot-path, lone and narrow, winding up among the trees,
- | And 't was hard to trace in winter, when the slippery ground would freeze,
- | And the snow fall thick above it, hiding every sign and mark;
- | But she went that way so often she could climb it in the dark!
- | 'T was to nurse a poor young mother, by fierce malady assailed,
- | That she made the daily journey, and she never once had failed.
- | Now the short sharp days were over, and the spring had just begun;
- | Every morn the light came sooner, and more strength was in the sun.
-
- | All around the grass was springing, and its tender verdure spread,
- | Mid the empty burrs of chestnuts, and the old leaves, brown and dead,
- | Low and small, but creeping, creeping till it almost touched the edge
- | Of the daily lessening snow-drifts, under rock or thorny hedge.
- | From the wreck of last year's autumn life awakened, strong and new,
- | And the buds were crowding upward, though as yet the flowers were few.
-
- | Many nights had she been watching, and with little rest by day,
- | For her heart was in the chamber where that helpless woman lay;
- | There the flame of life she cherished, when it almost ceased to burn,
- | Praying God to help and keep them till the husband should return.
-
- | 'T was the old and common story, such as all of us can hear,
- | If we care to, in the mountains, every day throughout the year!
- | She who languished, weak and wasting, in the garret chamber there,
- | Had been once as strong and happy as the wild birds in the air.
- | She had been a country beauty, for the boys to serenade;
- | And the poets sang about her, in the simple rhymes they made,
- | And with glowing words compared her to the lilies as they grew,
- | Or to stars, or budding roses, as their manner is to do.
- | Then the man who played at weddings with his ancient violin,
- | With his sad, impassioned singing, had contrived her heart to win;
- | And one brilliant April morning he had brought her home, a bride,
- | To his farm and low-built cottage on the mountain's terraced side.
- | 'T was a poor, rough home to look at, and from neighbours far away,
- | But with love and health and music there was much to make it gay.
- | They were happy, careless people, and they thought not to complain,
- | Though the door were cracked and broken, or the roof let in the rain:
- | They could pile the fire with branches, while the winter storms swept by;
-
- | For the rest, their life was mostly out beneath the open sky.
- | Time had come, and brought its changes,—sunshine first, and then the shade,
- | Frost untimely, chestnuts blighted. Sickness came, and debts were made;
- | Fields were sold, alas, to pay them; yet their troubles did not cease,
- | And the poor man's heart was troubled thus to see his land decrease!
- | Fields were gone, and bread was wanting, for there now were children small;
- | Much he loved them, much he laboured—but he could not feed them all.
-
- | So he left them, heavy-hearted, and his fortune went to try
- | In the low Maremma country, where men gain or where they die,
- | With its soft and treacherous beauty, with its fever-laden air;
- | But as yet the fever spared him, and they hoped it yet would spare.
- | 'T was a long and cruel winter in the home he left behind:
- | Lonely felt the house without him, and the young wife moped and pined:
- | Still her children's love sustained her, till this sickness laid her low;
- | When good Sister Marianna came to nurse her, as you know.
-
- | Week on week had hope been waning, as more feeble still she grew:
- | Marianna tried, but vainly, every simple cure she knew.
- | Then the doctor gave up hoping, and his long attendance ceased:
- | "I can do no more," he told her; "you had better call the priest.
- | To her husband I have written; he will have the news to-day:
- | If he cares again to see her, he had best be on his way!"
-
- | Now the priest has done his office; at the open door he stands,
- | And he says to Marianna: "I can leave her in your hands,—
- | I have other work that calls me; if to-night she chance to die,
- | You can say the prayers, good sister, for her soul as well as I."
-
- | So they left her, all unaided, in the house forlorn and sad,
- | Still to watch and think and labour with what failing strength she had.
- | There was none to share her burden, none to speak to, none to see—
- | Save a helpful boy of seven, and a restless one of three,
- | And their little dark-eyed sister (she was five, and came between),
- | And a baby, born that winter, which the father had not seen.
-
- | Two days more! Her friend lay sleeping, and she watched beside the bed:
- | In her arms she rocked the baby, while the Latin prayers she said,—
- | Prayers to help a soul departing;—yet she never quite despaired!
- | Might not yet the Lord have pity, and that mother's life be spared?
- | 'T was so hard to see her going—such a mother, kind and dear!
- | There was ne'er another like her in the country, far or near!
- | (So thought Sister Marianna.) Yet to murmur were a sin.
- | But her tears kept rising, rising, though she tried to hold them in,
- | Till one fell and lay there shining, on the head that she caressed,
- | Small and pretty, dark and downy, lying warm against her breast,
- | She was silent; something moved her that had neither place nor part
- | In the grave and stately cadence of the prayers she knew by heart.
- | Then she spoke, with eyes dilated, with her soul in every word,
- | As to one she saw before her—"Thou hast been a child, my Lord!
- | Thou hast lain as small and speechless as this infant on my knees;
- | Thou hast stretched toward Thy Mother little helpless hands like these:
- | Thou hast known the wants of children, then— Oh, listen to my plea,
- | For one moment, Lord, remember what Thy Mother was to Thee!
- | Think, when all was dark around Thee how her love did Thee enfold;
- | How she tended, how she watched Thee; how she wrapped Thee from the cold!
- | How her gentle heart was beating, on that night of tears and strife,
- | When the cruel guards pursued Thee, when King Herod sought Thy life!
- | How her arms enclosed and hid Thee, through that midnight journey wild!
- | Oh, for love of Thine own Mother, save the mother of this child!"
-
- | Now she paused and waited breathless; for she seemed to know and feel
- | That the Lord was there, and listened to her passionate appeal.
- | Then she bowed her head, all trembling; but a light was in her eye,
- | For her soul had heard the answer: that young mother would not die!
- | Yes, the prayer of faith had saved her! And a change began that day:
- | When she woke her breath was easy, and the pain had passed away.
- | So the day that dawned so sadly had a bright and hopeful close,
- | And a solemn, sweet thanksgiving from the sister's heart arose.
-
- | Now the night had closed around them, and a lonesome night it seemed!
- | For the sky was black and starless, and for hours the rain had streamed:
- | And the wind and rain together made a wild and mournful din,
- | As they beat on door and window, madly struggling to come in.
-
- | Marianna, faint and weary with the strain of many days,
- | On the broad stone hearth was kneeling, while she set the fire ablaze,
- | For the poor lone soul she cared for would, ere morning, need to eat.
- | "Now, God help me," said the sister, "this night's labour to complete!"
- | 'T was a meal she knew would please her, which she lovingly prepared,
- | Of that best and chosen portion, from the convent table spared,
- | Which she brought, as was her habit, with much other needed store,
- | In the worn old willow basket, standing near her on the floor.
-
- | On her work was much depending, so she planned to do her best;
- | And she set the earthen pitcher on the coals as in a nest,
- | With the embers laid around it; then she thought again, and cast
- | On the pile a few gray ashes, that it might not boil too fast.
- | But the touch of sleep was on her, she was dreaming while she planned,
- | And the wooden spoon kept falling from her limp and listless hand.
- | Then she roused her, struggling bravely with this languor, which she viewed
- | As a snare, a sore temptation, to be fought with and subdued.
- | But another fear assailed her—what if she should faint or fall?
- | And to-night the storm-swept cottage seems so far away from all!
- | How the fitful wind is moaning! And between the gusts that blow,
- | She can hear the torrent roaring, in the deep ravine below.
-
- | And her head is aching strangely, as it never did before:
- | "Good Lord, help me!" she is saying: "this can last but little more!
- | O my blessèd Lord and Master, only help me through the night—
- | Only keep my eyes from closing till they see the morning light!
- | For that mother and that baby do so weak and helpless lie,
- | And with only me to serve them,—if I leave them, they may die!
- | She is better—yes, I know it, but a touch may turn the scale.
- | I can send for help to-morrow, but to-night I must not fail!"
- | 'T was in vain; for sleep had conquered, and the words she tried to say
- | First became a drowsy murmur, then grew faint and died away.
- | And she slept as sleep the weary, heedless how the night went on,
- | With her pitcher all untended, with her labour all undone;
- | On the wall her head reclining, in the chimney's empty space,
- | While the firelight flared and flickered on her pale and peaceful face.
- | Was her humble prayer unanswered? Oh, the Lord has many a way
- | That His children little think of, to send answers when they pray!
- | It was long she sat there sleeping—do you think her work was spoiled?
- | No, the fir-wood fire kept burning, and the pitcher gently boiled:
- | Ne'er a taint of smoke had touched it, nor one precious drop been spilt;
- | When she moved and looked around her, with a sudden sense of guilt.
- | But her eyes, when first they opened, saw a vision, strange and sweet,
- | For a little Child was standing on the hearth-stone at her feet.
- | And He seemed no earthly infant, for His robe was like the snow,
- | And a glory shone about Him that was not the firelight glow.
- | And Himself her work was doing! For He kept the fire alive,
- | And He watched the earthen pitcher, that no danger might arrive
- | To the simple meal, now ready, with the coals around it piled;
- | Then He turned His face toward her, and she knew the Holy Child.
- | 'T was her Lord who stood before her! And she did not shrink nor start—
- | There was more of joy than wonder in her all-believing heart.
- | When her willing hands were weary, when her patient eyes were closed,
- | He had finished all she failed in, He had watched while she reposed.
- | Do you ask of His appearance? Human words are weak and cold;
- | 'T is enough to say she knew Him—that is all she ever told.
- | Yes, as you and I will know Him when that happy day shall come,
- | When, if we on earth have loved Him, He will bid us welcome home!
- | But with that one look He left her, and the vision all had passed,
- | (Though the peace it left within her to her dying hour would last!)
- | Storm had ceased, and wind was silent, there was no more sound of rain,
- | And the morning star was shining through the window's broken pane.
-
- | Later, when the sun was rising, Marianna looked to see,
- | O'er the stretch of rain-washed country, what the day was like to be,
- | While the door she softly opened, letting in the morning breeze,
- | As it shook the drops by thousands from the wet and shining trees.
- | And she saw the sky like crystal, for the clouds had rolled away,
- | Though they lay along the valleys, in their folds of misty grey,
- | Or to mountain sides were clinging, tattered relics of the storm.
- | And among the trees below her she could see a moving form;
- | 'T was the husband home returning, yes, thank God! he came at last:
- | There was no one else would hasten up that mountain road so fast.
- | Now the drooping boughs concealed him, now he came in sight again;
- | All night long had he been walking in the darkness, in the rain;
- | Through the miles of ghostly forest, through the villages asleep,
- | He had borne his burden bravely, till he reached that hillside steep;
- | And as yet he seemed not weary, for his springing step was light,
- | But his face looked worn and haggard with the anguish of the night.
- | Now his limbs began to tremble, and he walked with laboured breath,
- | For he saw his home before him, should he find there life or death?
- | How his heart grew faint within him as he neared the wished-for place!
- | One step more, his feet had gained it, they were standing face to face.
- | "God has helped us!" was her answer to the question in his eye;
- | And her smile of comfort told him that the danger had gone by.
-
- | It was morning now, fair morning! and the broken sunlight fell
- | Through the boughs that crossed above her, where the buds began to swell,
- | As adown the sloping pathway, that her feet so oft had pressed,
- | Went the Sister Marianna to her convent home to rest.
- | It was spring that breathed around her, for the winter strove no more,
- | And the snowdrifts all had vanished with the rain the night before.
- | Now a bee would flit beside her, as she lightly moved along;
- | Or a bird among the branches tried a few low notes of song.
- | But her heart had music sweeter than the bird-notes in her ears!
- | She was leaving joy behind her in that home of many tears:
- | Hope was there, and health returning; there were happy voice and smile,
- | For the father at his coming had brought plenty for a while.
- | And she knew with whom she left them, for herself His care had proved,
- | When her mortal eyes were opened, and she saw the face she loved,
- | On that night of storm and trouble, when to help her He had come,
- | As He helped His own dear Mother in their humble earthly home.
-
- | As she went the day grew warmer; sweeter came the wild bird's call;
- | Then, what made her start and linger? 'T was a perfume, that was all:
- | Faint, but yet enough to tell her that the violets were in bloom;
- | And she turned aside to seek them, for that picture in her room.
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`The Lupins`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- The Lupins
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-The simple story of "The Lupins" is very
-commonly known among the country people, who
-often quote it as a remedy for discontent.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- The Lupins
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | 'T was a day in late November,
- | When the fruits were gathered in;
- | Day to dream in, and remember
- | All the beauty that had been.
-
- | Peacefully the year was dying;
- | Soft the air, and deep the blue;
- | Brown and bare the fields were lying,
- | Where the summer harvest grew.
-
- | Autumn flowers had bloomed and seeded;
- | Yet a few of humblest kind,
- | Waiting till they most were needed,
- | Brought the pleasant days to mind.
-
- | Here and there a red-tipped daisy
- | Still its small bright face would show;
- | While above the distance hazy
- | Rose the mountains, white with snow.
-
- | With a light subdued and tender,
- | Shone the sun on vale and hill,
- | Where the faded autumn splendour
- | Left a sober sweetness still.
-
- | By a road that wandered, winding,
- | Far among the hills away,
- | Walked a man, despondent, finding
- | Little comfort in the day.
-
- | Pale of tint and fine of feature,
- | Formed with less of strength than grace,
- | Seldom went a sadder creature,
- | Seeking work from place to place.
-
- | He from noble race descended,
- | Heir to wealth and honoured name,
- | Who had oft the poor befriended
- | When about his door they came,
-
- | By a brother's evil doing
- | Had to poverty been brought:
- | Now his listless way pursuing,
- | Ever on the past he thought.
-
- | He, to hope no longer clinging,
- | Drifted, led he knew not where,
- | By a sound of far-off singing
- | Floating in the dreamy air,—
-
- | Many voices sweetly blending,
- | Sounding o'er the hills remote,
- | Every verse the same, and ending
- | In one plaintive, long-drawn note.
-
- | "Olive gatherers, I know them,
- | Singing songs from tree to tree;
- | If the road will lead me to them,
- | There are food and work for me."
-
- | He a humble meal was making,
- | While he warmed him in the sun;
- | From his pocket slowly taking
- | Yellow lupins, one by one.
-
- | Most forlorn he felt and lonely,
- | While he ate them on the way;
- | For those lupins, and they only,
- | Were his food for all the day.
-
- | Since to shame his brother brought him,
- | Want had often pressed him sore;
- | Yet misfortune never brought him
- | Quite so low as this before!
-
- | "If my lot be hard and painful,
- | There 's one comfort still for me;"
- | (Said he, with a smile disdainful,)
- | "Poorer, I can never be.
-
- | "There's no lower step to stand on,
- | No more burning shame to feel:
- | Not a crust to lay my hand on,
- | Only lupins for a meal!"
-
- | He could see the laden table
- | Where his parents used to dine:
- | Well for them who were not able
- | Then the future to divine.
-
- | Oh, but he was glad God took them
- | Ere they saw him fall so low:
- | How their cherished hope forsook them,
- | They had never lived to know.
-
- | "I, so dearly loved and cared for,
- | I, on whom such hopes were built,
- | Whom such blessings were prepared for—
- | Ruined by a brother's guilt!"
-
- | Now he wrung his hands despairing,
- | Stamped his foot upon the ground;
- | Bitter thoughts his heart were tearing,—
- | When he heard a footstep sound.
-
- | Then he started, sobered quickly,
- | Took an attitude sedate,
- | With that terror, faint and sickly,
- | Which he often felt of late.
-
- | What if some old friend should find him?
- | But he turned, the story tells,
- | And he saw a man behind him,
- | Picking up the lupin shells;
-
- | Picking up the shells and eating
- | What the other cast away.
- | Now abashed, their eyes were meeting:
- | 'T was a beggar, worn and gray,
-
- | Hollow-eyed and thin and wasted;
- | By his look you might suppose,
- | He had ne'er a morsel tasted
- | Since the sun that morning rose.
-
- | Stood the younger man astonished,
- | And no more bewailed his fate;
- | Only bowed his head, admonished
- | By the sight of want so great.
-
- | Then he said: "Come here, my brother,
- | And the lupins we will share;
- | Maybe, if we help each other,
- | God will have us in His care."
-
- | "Thank the Lord! and you, kind master!
- | May He help you in your need;
- | Save your soul from all disaster
- | And remember your good deed!"
-
- | Said the beggar, smiling brightly.
- | And the other thus replied,—
- | Now content, and walking lightly
- | By his poorer neighbour's side,—
-
- | "Friend, you have a blessing brought me.
- | And I thank you in my turn,
- | For a lesson you have taught me
- | Which I needed much to learn.
-
- | "And henceforth will I endeavour
- | Not to pine for fortune high,
- | But remember there is ever
- | Some one lower down than I.
-
- | "But alas, when I was younger,
- | Wealth and honoured state were mine;
- | Shame, my friend, is worse than hunger:
- | 'T is for this that I repine."
-
- | Then the beggar rose up stately,
- | Looked the other in the face,
- | Saying (for he wondered greatly),
- | "Poverty is no disgrace;
-
- | "For our Lord, I think, was poorer
- | Once than you or even I,
- | And His poor of Heaven are surer
- | Than the rich who pass them by."
-
- | So the two went on together,
- | Casting on the Lord their care,
- | Happy in the balmy weather,
- | Happy in their simple fare.
-
- | Now an ancient olive o'er them
- | Threw its slender lines of shade,
- | Bending low its boughs before them,
- | Silver-leafed that cannot fade;
-
- | Bearing fruit in winter season,
- | Still through every change the same:
- | Tree of peace—they had good reason
- | Who have called it by that name!
-
- | And with that the story leaves them;
- | You can end it as you please:
- | Gain that cheers, or loss that grieves them,
- | Life of toil, or life of ease.
-
- | Did some fortune unexpected
- | Give to one his wealth again?
- | Or did both, forlorn, neglected,
- | End their days in want and pain?
-
- | Many years have they been dwelling
- | Where such trifles of the way
- | Are not counted worth the telling!
- | Both are with the Lord to-day.
-
- | He in whom their souls confided
- | Did for both a home prepare;
- | Yet that humble meal divided
- | Gives a blessing even there.
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`The Silver Cross`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- The Silver Cross
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-The story of "St. Caterina of Siena and her Silver
-Cross" is one of her many visions, recorded by
-her confessor.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- The Silver Cross
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | Through the streets of old Siena, at the dawning of the day,
- | Went the holy Caterina, as the bells began to sound;
- | With the light of peace celestial in her eyes of olive gray,
- | For her soul was with the angels, while her feet were on the ground.
-
- | She was fair as any lily, with as delicate a grace;
- | And the air of early morning had just tinged her cheek with rose:
- | Yet one hardly thought of beauty in that pale, illumined face,
- | That the souls in trouble turned to, finding comfort and repose.
-
- | And the men their heads uncovered, though they dared not speak her praise,
- | When they saw her like a vision down the row street descend;
- | And they wondered what she looked at, with that far-off dreamy gaze,
- | While her lips were often moving, as though talking to a friend.
-
- | There were few abroad so early, and she scarcely heard a sound,
- | Save the cooing of the pigeons, as about her feet they strayed,
- | Or the bell that sweetly called her to the church where she was bound;
- | While the palaces around her stood in silence and in shade.
-
- | And the towers built for warfare rose about her, dark and proud,
- | But their summits caught a glory, as the morning onward came,
- | And the summer sky beyond them was alight with fleecy cloud,
- | Where the gray of dawn was changing, first to rose and then to flame.
-
- | By a shrine of the Madonna, at a corner where she passed,
- | Stood a stranger leaning on it, as though weary and forlorn,
- | With a bundle slung behind him and a cloak about him cast;
- | For he shivered in the freshness of the pleasant summer morn.
-
- | Said the stranger, "Will you help me?" and she looked on him and knew,
- | By his hand that trembled feebly as he held it out for aid,
- | By his eyes that were so heavy, and his lips of ashen hue,
- | That the terrible Maremma had its curse upon him laid.
-
- | So she listened to his story, that was pitiful to hear,
- | Of a widowed mother waiting on the mountain for her son;
- | How to help her he had laboured till the summer time drew near,
- | And of how the fever took him just before his work was done.
-
- | He was young and he was hopeful, and the smile began to come
- | In his eyes, as though they thanked her for the pity she bestowed,
- | And he said: "I shall recover if I reach my mountain home,
- | And if some good Christian people will but help me on the road.
-
- | "For I go to Casentino, where the air is pure and fine,
- | But my strength too often fails me, and the place is far away;
- | So I pray you give me something, for a little bread and wine,
- | That I may not set out fasting on my weary walk to-day."
-
- | Then a certain faint confusion with her pity seemed to blend,
- | And her face, so sweet and saintly, showed the shadow of a cloud,
- | As she said: "I am no lady, though you call me so, my friend,
- | But a poor Domenicana who to poverty am vowed.
-
- | "I can give a prayer to help you on your journey, nothing more,
- | For these garments I am wearing are the sisterhood's, not mine,
- | And the very bread they gave me when I left the convent door
- | To a beggar by the wayside I this morning did consign.
-
- | "I would give you all you ask for if I had it to command."
- | Then she sighed and would have left him, but the stranger made her stay,
- | For he held her by the mantle, with his cold and wasted hand:
- | "For the love of Christ, my lady, do not send me thus away!"
-
- | He had used the name unthinking, but it moved her none the less,
- | And she turned again toward him, with a softened, solemn air,
- | While her hand began to wander up and down her simple dress,
- | As though vaguely it were seeking for some trifle she could spare.
-
- | Then the rosary she lifted that was hanging at her waist,
- | And its silver cross unfastened, which was small and very old,
- | With the edges worn and rounded and the image half effaced,
- | Yet she loved it more than lady ever loved a cross of gold.
-
- | It had been her life companion, in the tempest, in the calm;
- | She had held it to her bosom when she prayed with troubled mind;
- | And she kissed it very gently, as she laid it in his palm,
- | "For the love of Christ, then, take it; 'tis the only thing I find."
-
- | So he thanked her and departed, and she thought of him no more,
- | Save to ask the Lord to help him, when that day in church she prayed;
- | But the cross of Caterina on his heart the stranger wore,
- | And her presence unforgotten like a blessing with him stayed.
-
- | Now the city life is stirring, and the streets are in the sun,
- | And the bells ring out their music o'er the busy town again,
- | As the people slowly scatter from the church where Mass is done;
- | But the blessèd Caterina in her seat did still remain.
-
- | For the sleep divine was on her, which so often to her came,
- | When of mortal life the shadow from around her seemed to fall;
- | And she looked on things celestial with her happy soul aflame:
- | But that day the dream that held her was the sweetest of them all.
-
- | For the Lord appeared in glory, and he seemed to her to stand
- | In a chamber filled with treasures such as eye had never seen;
- | And a cross of wondrous beauty He was holding in His hand,
- | Set with every stone most precious and with pearls of light serene.
-
- | And He told her that those treasures were the presents He received
- | From the souls on earth who love Him, and are seeking Him to please.
- | Were they deeds of noble service? that was what she first believed,
- | And she thought, "What happy people who can bring Him gifts like these!"
-
- | For herself could offer nothing, and she sighed to think how far
- | From the best she ever gave him were the gems in that bright store.
- | But He held the cross toward her, that was shining like a star,
- | And He bade her look and tell Him had she seen it e'er before.
-
- | "No," she answered humbly, "never did my eyes the like behold."
- | But a flood of sudden sweetness came upon her like a wave,
- | For she saw among the jewels and the work of beaten gold
- | Was the little Cross of Silver that for love of Christ she gave.
-
- | And I think her dream that morning was a message from above,
- | That a proof of deepest meaning we might learn and understand,—
- | Though our very best be worthless that we give for Jesus' love,
- | It will change and turn to glory when He takes it in His hand.
-
-
-
-
-
-.. vspace:: 4
-
-.. _`The Tears of Repentance`:
-
-.. class:: center large bold
-
- The Tears of Repentance
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-THE TEARS OF REPENTANCE I found in a
-book called *Maraviglie di Dio ne' Suoi Santi*, by the
-Jesuit Father, Padre Carlo Gregorio Rosignoli, printed
-at Bologna in 1696. He says it was written originally
-by Theophilus Raynaudus.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center x-large bold
-
- The Tears of Repentance
-
-.. class:: center medium
-
- *PART FIRST*
-
-.. class:: center bold medium
-
- THE MOUNTAIN
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | A wild, sad story I tell to-day,
- | And I pray you to listen all!
- | You cannot think how my heart is moved
- | As the legend I recall,—
-
- | The legend that made me weep so oft,
- | When I was a child like you!
- | I tell it now, in my life's decline,
- | And it brings the tears anew.
-
- | It came to us down through ages long;
- | For this story had its scene
- | In the far-away, gorgeous, stormy days
- | Of the empire Byzantine.
-
- | And it tells of a famous mountain chief,
- | A terrible, fierce brigand,
- | Who ravaged the country, far and wide,
- | At the head of an armèd band.
-
- | So hard of heart was this evil man
- | That he spared not young nor old:
- | He killed and plundered, and burned and spoiled,
- | In his maddening thirst for gold;
-
- | Would come with a swoop on a merchant troop,
- | That peacefully went its way,
- | And the counted gains of a journey long
- | Were scattered in one short day!
-
- | He knew no pity, he owned no law,
- | Nor human, nor yet divine;
- | Would take the gold from a Prince's chest,
- | Or the lamp from a wayside shrine.
-
- | In hidden valley, in wild ravine,
- | On desolate, heath-grown hill,
- | He buried his treasure away from sight,
- | And most of it lies there still.
-
- | And none were free in that land to dwell,
- | Except they a tribute paid;
- | For the robber chief, who was more than king,
- | Had this burden on them laid.
-
- | If any dared to resist the claim,
- | He was met with vengeance dire;
- | His lands were wasted before the dawn,
- | And his harvest burned with fire.
-
- | And some day maybe himself was slain,
- | And left in the road to lie;
- | To fill with terror the quaking heart
- | Of the next who journeyed by.
-
- | And many fled to the towns afar,
- | And their fields were left untilled;
- | While want and trouble and trembling fear
- | Had the stricken country filled.
-
- | High up on a mountain's pathless side
- | Had the robber made his den,
- | In a rocky cave, where he reigned supreme
- | Over twenty lawless men.
-
- | A price had long on his head been set,
- | But for that he little cared;
- | For few were they who could climb the way,
- | And fewer were those who dared.
-
- | For those who hunted him long before
- | Had a fearful story brought:
- | They were not men on the mountain side,
- | But demons who with them fought!
-
- | For horrible forms arose, they said,
- | As if from the earth they grew;
- | And rolled down rocks from the cliffs above
- | On any who might pursue.
-
- | From town to town and from land to land,
- | Had his evil fame been spread;
- | And voices lowered and lips grew grave
- | When the hated name they said.
-
- | The people's heart had grown faint with fear,
- | And they thought no hope remained;
- | But hope again on their vision dawned,
- | When the Emperor's ear they gained.
-
- | Mauritius reigned o'er the nations then;
- | He was great in warlike fame,
- | And he was not one to shrink or quake
- | At a mountain bandit's name.
-
- | He sent a band of a hundred strong
- | For the troubled land's release,
- | To kill the man and his bloody crew,
- | And to give the country peace.
-
- | For what was a robber chief to him?
- | He had conquered mighty kings;
- | He gave the order, and then 't was done,
- | And he thought of other things.
-
- | But few, alas, of that troop returned,
- | And they told a ghostly tale;
- | And women wept, and the strongest men,
- | As they heard, grew mute and pale.
-
- | Those soldiers oft in the war had been,
- | And they counted danger light;
- | From mortal foe had they never turned,
- | But with demons who could fight?
-
- | The Emperor silent was and grave,
- | For his thoughts were deep and wise;
- | He saw that the robber chief was one
- | Whom he could not well despise.
-
- | There might be reason in what they said,
- | That the demons gave him aid,
- | And earthly weapon would ne'er be found
- | That could make such foes afraid.
-
- | But yet they will flee from sacred things,
- | And the martyred saints, he knew,
- | Have holy virtue, that to them clings,
- | That can all their spells undo.
-
- | But how could such weapon reach the soul
- | That for years had owned their sway?
- | A question grave that he pondered long;
- | But at length he found a way.
-
- | A reliquary he made prepare;
- | It was all of finest gold:
- | For as monarch might with monarch treat,
- | He would serve this bandit bold.
-
- | The gold was his, but the work he gave
- | To the skilled and patient hand
- | Of an artist monk, who counted then
- | For the first in all the land.
-
- | Now see him close to his labour bent,
- | In a cell remote and high,
- | Where all he saw of the world without
- | Was a square of roof and sky.
-
- | A holy man was this artist monk,
- | And for gain he did not ask,
- | If only the Lord his work would bless,
- | For his heart was in the task.
-
- | And day by day from his touch came forth
- | The image of holy things;
- | The cross was there, and the clustered vine,
- | And the dove with outspread wings,—
-
- | The dove that bore in her golden beak
- | The olive in sign of peace,
- | And still, as he wrought, his hand kept time
- | To the prayer that would not cease!
-
- | For pity stirred in him when he thought
- | Of that dark and stormy breast,
- | So hard, so hopeless, from God so far,
- | Where the little shrine would rest.
-
- | And perhaps if angels were looking on,
- | (And I doubt not some were there!)
- | They saw that the work was sown with pearls,
- | And each pearl a burning prayer.
-
- | So weeks went on, and the shrine was done,
- | And within it, sealed and closed,
- | Were holy relics of martyred saints
- | Who near in the church reposed.
-
- | And trusted messengers bore it forth
- | To the distant mountain land;
- | With such a weapon they need not fear;
- | They could meet the famed brigand.
-
- | 'T was winter now on the mountain-side,
- | And the way was long and hard,
- | As the faithful envoys upward toiled
- | In their bandit escort's guard,—
-
- | Toiled up to a grove of ancient firs,
- | For that was the place designed,
- | Where, after parley and long delay,
- | Had the meeting been combined.
-
- | No sound but their feet that crushed the snow,
- | And the world looked sad and dead;
- | They thought of lives on the mountain lost,
- | And it was not much they said.
-
- | The sun, as it shone with slanting ray
- | Through the stripped and silent trees,
- | Could melt but little the clinging ice
- | Which to-night again would freeze.
-
- | They reached the grove, and the chief was there,
- | Like a king in savage state;
- | Erect and fearless, above them all,
- | While his men around him wait.
-
- | He stood before them like what he was,
- | A terrible beast of prey;
- | But even tigers have something grand,
- | And he looked as grand as they.
-
- | But, oh, the look that he on them turned!
- | It was fearful to behold;
- | It chilled their hearts, but they did not shrink,
- | For their faith had made them bold.
-
- | And looking straight in those gloomy eyes,
- | With their hard and cruel glare,
- | "We come," said one, "in the Emperor's name,
- | And from him a token bear."
-
- | Then said the chief, with a mocking smile,
- | "And what may my Lord command?"
- | And made a sign with his evil eye,
- | For the men on guard to stand.
-
- | No faith had he in a tale so wild,
- | And he somewhat feared a snare;
- | There might be others in hiding near,
- | But he did not greatly care.
-
- | Then forth came he who the relics bore,—
- | 'T was a prudent man and brave,—
- | And into the hand that all men feared,
- | He the holy token gave.
-
- | "This gift to you has the Emperor sent,
- | In token of his good will,"
- | He said; and at first the fierce brigand
- | Stood in wonder, hushed and still.
-
- | What felt he then as that holy thing
- | In his guilty hand he took?
- | What changed his face for a moment's time
- | To an almost human look?
-
- | There lay the shrine in his open palm.
- | Yet he thought it could not be:
- | "For me?" he asked, but his voice was strange.
- | And again he said, "for me?"
-
- | Three times the messenger told his tale,
- | And he said 't was all he knew;
- | The bandit looked at the wondrous work,
- | And he could not doubt 't was true.
-
- | So over his neck the chain he hung,
- | The shrine on his bosom lay
- | With all its wealth of a thousand prayers;
- | And they were not cast away.
-
- | Day followed day in the bandit's cave,
- | And a restless man was he;
- | A heart so hard and so proud as his
- | With the saints could ill agree.
-
- | The holy relics that on it lay
- | Did a strange confusion make;
- | In all that most he had loved before,
- | He could no more pleasure take.
-
- | A charm there was in the golden shrine
- | That had all his soul possessed;
- | He sat and looked at each sacred sign
- | With a dreamy sense of rest.
-
- | 'T was not the gold that could soothe him thus,
- | And 't was not the work so fine:
- | 'T was the holy soul of the artist monk,
- | For it lived in every line.
-
- | Like one who sleeps when the day begins,
- | And, before his slumbers end,
- | The morning light and the morning sounds
- | With his dreaming fancies blend;
-
- | So now and then would his heart be stirred
- | By a feeling strange and new,
- | And thoughts he never had known before
- | In his mind unconscious grew.
-
- | Till on a sudden his blinding pride,
- | Like a bubble, failed and broke;
- | With eyes wide open, the guilty man
- | From his life-long dream awoke.
-
- | From graves forgotten his crimes came forth,
- | In his face they seemed to stare:
- | To all one day will such waking come;
- | God grant it be here, not there.
-
- | Then wild remorse on his heart took hold,
- | And beneath its burning sting
- | He shrank from himself as one might shrink
- | From a venomous, hateful thing.
-
- | For scenes of blood from the years gone by
- | Forever before him came;
- | He closed his eyes, and his face he hid,
- | But he saw them just the same.
-
- | And in the horror he dared not pray,
- | For he felt his soul accurst,
- | And he feared to live, and he feared to die,
- | And he knew not which was worst.
-
- | Yet far on high, and beyond his reach,
- | He could see a vision dim,
- | A far-off glory of peace and love;
- | But he felt 't was not for him.
-
- | Awhile his trouble he hid from all,
- | For his will was iron strong,
- | But never was man, since man was made,
- | Who could bear such torment long,
-
- | A strange, sick longing was growing up
- | In his spirit, day by day,
- | A longing for what he most had feared,—
- | To let justice have her way;
-
- | Until the will to a purpose grew,
- | To the Emperor's feet to fly,
- | To own his sin without prayer or plea,
- | And then give up all and die.
-
- | And so one night, without sound or word,
- | Away in the dark he stole,
- | And all that he took for his journey long
- | Was the weight of a burdened soul.
-
- | They waited long in that den of crime,
- | But they saw their chief no more;
- | Or dead or living, they found him not,
- | Though they searched the mountain o'er.
-
- | And in the country, so long oppressed,
- | When his sudden flight was known,
- | They spoke of a wild and fearful night,
- | When the fiends had claimed their own.
-
- | And soon the tale to a legend turned,
- | And men trembling used to tell
- | Of how they carried him, body and soul,
- | To the place where demons dwell.
-
- | His men, so bold, were in mortal fear
- | Of what might themselves befall;
- | So some in a convent refuge sought,
- | And the rest were scattered all.
-
- | And no one climbed to their empty cave,
- | For 't was called a haunted place,
- | Though soon the summer had swept away
- | Of its horror every trace,
-
- | And mountain strawberries nestled low,
- | And delicate harebells hung,
- | In beauty meek, from its broken arch,
- | Where the swallows reared their young.
-
- | But where had he gone, that man of woe?
- | Had he found the rest he sought?
- | In haste he went, but with noiseless tread,
- | As his bandit life had taught.
-
- | And going downward he met the spring,
- | With its mingled sun and showers;
- | But storms of winter he bore within,
- | And he did not see the flowers.
-
- | And how did he live from day to day,
- | And the ceaseless strain endure?
- | Kind hearts there are that can feel for all,
- | And the poor will help the poor.
-
- | In frightened pity, a shepherd girl,
- | As she fled o'er the daisied grass,
- | Would let the bread from her apron fall
- | On the turf where he should pass;
-
- | Or workmen, eating their noonday meal
- | On a bank beside the way,
- | Would give him food, but with outstretched arm,
- | And they asked him not to stay.
-
- | He went like a shadow taken shape
- | From some vague and awful dream,
- | And word of comfort for him was none,
- | In his misery so extreme.
-
- | Alas, from himself he could not flee,
- | Though he tried, poor haunted man;
- | And he reached the city beside the sea,
- | As the Holy Week began.
-
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- *PART SECOND*
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-..
-
- | 'T was Sunday morn, and a hundred bells
- | With their sweet and saintly sound
- | Were calling the people in to prayer
- | From the pleasant hills around,—
-
- | The morn when strivings should end in peace,
- | And each wrong forgotten be,
- | That Holy Week may its blessing shed
- | Upon souls from discord free.
-
- | The streets were bright with a moving throng,
- | And before the palace gate,
- | With eager eyes and in garments gay,
- | Did a crowd expectant wait.
-
- | For the Emperor goes in solemn state,
- | With his court, like all the rest,
- | To the church with many lamps ablaze,
- | Where to-day the palms are blest.
-
- | And stately ladies and timid girls,
- | In their modest plain attire,
- | From curtained windows are looking down,
- | And the shifting scene admire.
-
- | They come, they come, from the cool deep shade
- | Of the courtyard's marble arch,—
- | The nobles all in their rich array,
- | And the guards with sounding march.
-
- | And stay, the square is as still as death,
- | For the Emperor passes now;
- | The girls at the window hold their breath,
- | And the people bend and bow.
-
- | But who is this that among them moves
- | With that quick and stately pace?
- | What see they all in his rigid look,
- | That they shrink and give him place?
-
- | Too late the guards would have barred the way,
- | For he darted swiftly by,
- | As hunted creatures, when hard beset,
- | To man in their terror fly.
-
- | And sinking low at the feet of him
- | He had come so far to see,
- | He waited silent with folded hands,
- | Nor asked what his fate should be.
-
- | "Who are you, come in such deep distress,
- | And what is the grace you seek?"
- | The Emperor's voice was grave and kind,
- | And the stranger tried to speak.
-
- | The golden casket he raised in sight,
- | While he bent his eyes for shame;
- | Then said he, "I am that wicked man,"
- | And he told the dreaded name.
-
- | A shudder fell upon all who heard,
- | But the people nearer drew;
- | From mouth to mouth, in a whisper low,
- | The name of the bandit flew.
-
- | While he, uplifting those woful eyes,
- | In the boldness of despair,
- | With ne'er a thought of the crowd who heard,
- | His errand did thus declare:
-
- | "I come not here to confess my sins,
- | For you know them all too well;
- | My crimes are many and black and great,
- | They are more than tongue can tell.
-
- | "But here at your feet my life I lay,
- | I have nothing else to give;
- | So now, if it please you, speak the word,
- | For I am not fit to live."
-
- | The words came straight from his broken heart
- | In such sad and simple style,
- | That the Emperor's firm, proud lips were moved
- | To a somewhat softened smile.
-
- | For his warlike spirit felt the charm
- | Of that savage strength and grace,
- | And the strange fierce beauty that lingered still
- | In the dark and troubled face.
-
- | So grand of form and so lithe of limb,
- | And still in his manhood's prime,
- | 'T would be a pity for one like him
- | To perish before his time.
-
- | And 't was well to see him kneeling there,
- | Whose terror had filled the land,
- | Like a captive tiger, caught and tamed
- | By his own imperial hand.
-
- | "Arise," he said, "you have nought to fear,
- | Take comfort and go your way,
- | And may God in heaven my sins forgive,
- | As I pardon yours to-day."
-
- | A murmur rose from the crowded square,
- | At the sound of words like these;
- | For some rejoiced in the mercy shown,
- | And others it did not please.
-
- | Some thanked the Lord for the pardoned man,
- | And some were to scorn inclined;
- | And motherly women wiped their eyes,
- | For the women's hearts are kind.
-
- | "God bless our Emperor," many said;
- | But others began to frown.
- | And asked, "Will he turn this wild brigand
- | Adrift in our peaceful town?"
-
- | No word of thanks did the bandit say,
- | But he raised one shining fold
- | Of the robe imperial, trailing low
- | With its weight of gems and gold.
-
- | The border first to his lips he pressed,
- | And then to his heavy heart;
- | Then rose and waited with bended head,
- | Till he saw them all depart.
-
- | No eye had he for the gorgeous train,
- | As along the square it passed;
- | One stately presence was all he knew,
- | And he watched it till the last.
-
- | A heavy sigh, and he turned away,
- | But with slow and weary tread;
- | No rest as yet on the earth for him,
- | Not even among the dead.
-
- | He lived, and he bore his burden still,
- | But the dumb despair had ceased:
- | That word of mercy had brought a change,
- | And he now had tears, at least;
-
- | He now could pray, though it brought not light,
- | And he seemed to ask in vain,
- | And his prayer had more of tears than words,
- | But it helped him bear the pain.
-
- | And oft in church did they see him kneel
- | In some corner all alone,
- | And weep till the great hot drops would fall
- | On the floor of varied stone.
-
- | And children clung to their mothers' hand,
- | When they saw that vision wild,—
- | That haggard face, and that wasting form,
- | And those lips that never smiled.
-
- | But grief was wearing his life away,
- | And for him perhaps 't was well;
- | It was not long on the city street
- | That his saddening shadow fell.
-
- | A fever slowly within him burned,
- | Till the springs of life were dry,
- | And glad he was when they laid him down
- | On a hospital bed to die.
-
- | His heart was broken, his strength was gone,
- | He had no more wish to live;
- | He almost hoped that the Lord on high,
- | Like the Emperor, might forgive;
-
- | That somewhere down in the peaceful earth
- | He should find a refuge yet,
- | A place to rest and his eyes to close,
- | And the woful past forget.
-
- | He could not lie where the others lay,
- | For such gloom around him spread,
- | That soon in a chamber far away
- | Had they set his friendless bed.
-
- | 'T was there he suffered and wept and prayed,
- | From the eyes of all concealed:
- | Alas! but it takes a weary time
- | For a life like his to yield.
-
- | The grand old hospital where he died
- | Was beneath the watchful care
- | Of a certain doctor, famed afar
- | For his skill and learning rare.
-
- | But more than learning and more than skill
- | Was his heart, so large and kind,
- | That knew the trouble and felt the needs
- | Of the sick who near him pined.
-
- | With conscience pure had he served the Lord
- | From youth till his hair was grey,
- | Yet only pity he felt, not scorn,
- | For the many feet that stray.
-
- | In troubled scenes had his life been passed;
- | He was used to woe and sin,
- | And when men suffered he did not ask
- | If their lives had blameless been.
-
- | His part was but to relieve their pain,
- | And he helped and soothed and cheered;
- | But most he cared for the stricken man
- | Whom the others shunned and feared.
-
- | Each art to save him he tried in vain,
- | And it could but useless prove,
- | For the poisoned thorn that pierced his heart
- | Could no earthly hand remove,
-
- | When hope had failed, he would kneel and pray,
- | And his heart with tears outpour,
- | That God in mercy would comfort send
- | To that soul in torment sore.
-
- | And though the burden he might not lift,
- | He could help its weight to bear;
- | He talked of mercy, of peace to come,
- | And he bade him not despair.
-
- | And so, on the last sad night of all,
- | 'T was the brave, good doctor came
- | To watch alone by the bandit's side,
- | When he died of grief and shame.
-
- | The spring to summer was wearing on,
- | 'T was the fairest night in May,
- | When sleep to those eyes in mercy came,
- | And the deadly strain gave way.
-
- | No candle burned, for the moon was full,
- | And the peaceful splendour fell
- | Through the open window, lighting all:
- | It was like a kind farewell.
-
- | And scents from the garden floated in,
- | And the silent fireflies came,
- | And breathed and vanished, and breathed again,
- | With their soft mysterious flame.
-
- | The doctor watched with a heavy heart,
- | His head on his hand was bowed;
- | He thought how many his prayers had been,
- | But they could not lift the cloud.
-
- | 'T was over now, there was nothing left
- | For his pitying love to do;
- | The worn-out body would rest at last,
- | But the guilty soul,—who knew?
-
- | No more to do but to watch and wait
- | Till the failing breath should cease;
- | He longed, as the counted minutes flew,
- | For one parting smile of peace.
-
- | He looked: a handkerchief veiled the eyes,
- | For they wept until the end,
- | And sadly still on the wasted cheek
- | Did a few slow drops descend.
-
- | The peace that oft to the dying comes
- | Was to him as yet denied,—
- | No sunset clear after stormy day,
- | And no brightening ere he died.
-
- | "Alas! he will go away to-night,
- | And without one hopeful sign,
- | Away from pity, away from care,
- | And from such poor help as mine!"
-
- | The doctor sighed, but he hoped as well,
- | For he said, "It cannot be
- | That the Lord, who died for all, will have
- | No mercy for such as he."
-
- | 'T was then that sleep on the doctor fell,
- | And before him stood revealed,
- | In dreaming vision, a wondrous sight,
- | From his waking eyes concealed.
-
- | For other watchers were in the room,
- | And he knew the ghastly throng
- | Of demon spirits, the very same
- | Whom the man had served so long.
-
- | And two were leaning across the bed,
- | And another pressed behind,
- | And some in the shadow waiting stood,
- | With a chain his soul to bind.
-
- | But angels watched by the bedside too;
- | 'T was a strange and solemn scene,—
- | The angels here and the demons there,
- | And the dying man between.
-
- | The angels looked with a troubled gaze
- | On the face consumed with grief,
- | And over the pillow bent and swayed,
- | As in haste to bring relief.
-
- | And one on the bowed and burdened head
- | Did a hand in blessing lay,
- | And he said, "Poor soul, come home with us.
- | Where the tears are wiped away."
-
- | "Not so," cried one of the demon troop,
- | "He is black with every sin;
- | And you may not touch our lawful prey
- | That we laboured years to win.
-
- | "We bought his soul, and the price we paid,
- | And our part has well been done;
- | We helped him ever from crime to crime,
- | Till his buried wealth was won;
-
- | "And we almost thought him one of us,
- | He had so well learned our ways;
- | So go, for we do but seek our own,
- | And be done with these delays."
-
- | The angel said, "He has wept his sin,
- | As none ever wept before,
- | Has mourned till his very life gave way,
- | And what could a man do more?
-
- | "And our Blessèd Lord, who pities all,
- | And the sins of all has borne,
- | Will never His mercy turn away
- | From a heart so bruised and torn."
-
- | "But how? and shall mercy be for him
- | Who has mercy never shown?
- | Can his sorrow bring the dead to life,
- | Or can tears for blood atone?
-
- | "Is he to rest with the angels now,
- | Has he done with tears and pain?
- | To-morrow morn he will wish he lay
- | On the hospital bed again;
-
- | "There is somewhat more to weep for down
- | In the place where he must stay!"
- | The demon looked at his fiendish mates;
- | And he laughed, and so did they.
-
- | And they gathered close, like hungry wolves,
- | In their haste to rend and tear;
- | But they could not touch the helpless head
- | While that strong white hand was there.
-
- | Then out of the shadow one came forth,
- | 'T was a demon great and tall;
- | An iron balance he held on high,
- | As he stood before them all.
-
- | And fiercely he to the angels called,
- | "Do you dare to claim him still?
- | Then come, for the scales are in my hand,
- | We will weigh the good and ill."
-
- | And into the nearest scale he threw,
- | As he spoke, a parchment roll,
- | With on it a note of every sin
- | That had stained the parting soul.
-
- | 'T was closely written, without, within,
- | And the balance downward flew
- | And struck the ground with a blow, as though
- | It would break the pavement through.
-
- | "He is ours forever," the demons said,
- | "If justice the world controls;
- | For sins so heavy do on him lie,
- | They would sink a hundred souls!
-
- | "Come, hasten, angels, the time is short,
- | And words are of no avail;
- | Come, bring the note of your friend's good deeds,
- | To lay in the empty scale."
-
- | The angels searched, but they searched in vain,
- | There was no good deed to bring;
- | In all that ever that hand had done,
- | They could find no worthy thing.
-
- | A taunting shout from the demons broke,
- | And each hard malignant face
- | With joy and triumph was all aflame;
- | But the angels held their place,
-
- | Though dimness fell like a passing cloud
- | On their pure and holy light;
- | And if ever angel eyes have tears,
- | There were some in theirs that night.
-
- | But he who had been the first to speak,
- | With a glimmering hope possessed,
- | Still sought some good that would turn the scale,
- | Though it seemed a useless quest.
-
- | He saw the handkerchief where it lay,
- | And he raised it off the bed,
- | All wet and clinging, and steeped in tears
- | That the dying eyes had shed.
-
- | He turned around, but his face was pale,
- | As the last poor chance he tried;
- | He laid it down in the empty scale,
- | And he said, "Let God decide!"
-
- | When, lo! it fell till it touched the earth,
- | And the demons stood dismayed;
- | It seemed so little and light a thing,
- | But it all his sins outweighed.
-
- | But who shall ever the anger tell
- | Of that black and hateful band,
- | When most in triumph they felt secure,
- | The prey had escaped their hand.
-
- | They stood one moment in speechless rage,
- | And then, with a fearful sound
- | Of shrieks and curses and rattling chains,
- | They vanished beneath the ground.
-
- | Then holy peace on the chamber fell,
- | Till it flooded all the air;
- | The angels praised and they thanked the Lord,
- | Who so late had heard their prayer.
-
- | And their clouded glory shone again,
- | With a clear celestial ray,
- | As the trembling soul, which that moment passed,
- | They bore in their arms away.
-
- | Then through the room, as they took their flight,
- | Did a flood of music stream,
- | So loud, so sweet, and so close at hand,
- | That it waked him from his dream.
-
- | He looked around; there was nothing stirred
- | In the empty, moonlit room,
- | Where a faint, sweet odour filled the air
- | From the orange-trees in bloom.
-
- | And the notes divine he had thought to hear
- | Were only the liquid flow
- | Of a nightingale's song, that came up clear
- | From the garden just below.
-
- | Then up from his seat the doctor rose,
- | And he stood beside the bed;
- | He knew, when he touched the quiet hand,
- | That the poor brigand was dead.
-
- | The handkerchief on the pillow lay,
- | But its weary use was o'er,
- | And he raised it, heavy and wet with tears,
- | From the eyes that could weep no more.
-
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diff --git a/47962-rst/images/img-cover.jpg b/47962-rst/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1d20915..0000000 --- a/47962-rst/images/img-cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/47962-rst/images/img-front.jpg b/47962-rst/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 96d85fc..0000000 --- a/47962-rst/images/img-front.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/47962-rst/images/img-title.jpg b/47962-rst/images/img-title.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 760f9fe..0000000 --- a/47962-rst/images/img-title.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/47962.txt b/47962.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b578866..0000000 --- a/47962.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5406 +0,0 @@ - THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER VERY OLD STORIES - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories -Author: Francesca Alexander -Release Date: January 12, 2015 [EBook #47962] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER -VERY OLD STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - -[Illustration: Marianna and her Vision by the Fire. From a drawing by -the author] - - - - - [Illustration: Title page] - - - - *THE HIDDEN - SERVANTS* - - _and_ OTHER VERY OLD STORIES - - - _Told Over Again By_ - FRANCESCA ALEXANDER - - AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF IDA," - "ROADSIDE SONGS OF TUSCANY," Etc. - - - - _LONDON_ * Published by DAVID NUTT - at the Sign of the Phoenix, Long Acre * _1907_ - - - - - Copyright, 1900, - By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - - All Rights Reserved - - - - University Press * John Wilson - and Son * Cambridge, U.S.A. - - - - - *Introduction* - - -To those who are fortunate enough to know Miss Alexander's pen and -pencil pictures of Italian peasant life the very name of Francesca, over -which her early work was published, carries with it an aroma as of those -humbler graces of her adopted people,--their sunny charity, their native -sense of the beautiful, their childlike faith,--which touch the heart -more intimately than all their great achievements in History and in Art. -For those, however, to whom are yet unknown her faithful transcripts in -picture and story from the lives of the people she loves, a word of -introduction has been asked; and it was perhaps thought that the task -might properly be entrusted to one who had heard _The Hidden Servants_ -and many another of these poems from the lips of Francesca herself. - -Yet, rightly considered, could any experience have better served to -banish from the mind such irrelevant intruders as facts,--those literal -facts and data at least which the uninitiated might be so mistaken as to -desire, but which none who knew Francesca's work could regard as of the -slightest consequence? - -Imagine a quiet, green-latticed room in Venice overlooking the Grand -Canal whose waters keep time in gently audible lappings to the lilt of -the verse,--that lilt that is apparent even in the printed line, but -which only a voice trained to Italian cadences can perfectly give. -Imagine that voice half chanting, half reciting, these old, old legends, -and with an absolute sincerity of conviction which stirs the mind of the -listeners, mere children of to-day though they be, to a faith akin to -that which conceived the tales. Where is there place for facts in such a -scene, in such an experience? Or, if facts must be, are not all that -are requisite easily to be gleaned from the poems themselves? Why state -that Francesca is the daughter of an American artist, or that she has -spent her life in Italy, when the artist inheritance, the Italian -atmosphere, breathes in every poem our little book contains? Why make -mention even of Ruskin's enthusiastic heralding of her work, when the -very spirit of it is so essentially that which the great idealist was -seeking all his life that he could scarcely have failed to discover and -applaud it had it been ever so retiring, ever so hidden? Nor does it -matter that the Alexander home chances to be in Florence rather than in -Venice, since it is Italy itself that lives in Francesca's work; nor -that she is Protestant rather than Catholic, when it is religion pure -and simple, unrestricted by any creed, that makes vital each line she -writes or draws. - -Yet of the poems, if not of the writer, there remained still something -to learn, and accordingly a letter of inquiry was sent her; and her own -reply, written with no thought of publication, is a better report than -another could give. This is what she says:-- - -"With regard to this present collection of ballads, I can tell its -history in a few words. When I was a young girl many old and curious -books fell into my hands and became my favourite reading (next to the -Bible, and, perhaps, the _Divina Commedia_), as I found in them the -strong faith and simple modes of thought which were what I liked and -wanted. Afterwards, in my constant intercourse with the country people, -and especially with old people whom I always loved, I heard a great many -legends and traditions, often beautiful, often instructive, and which, -as far as I knew, had never been written down. I was always in request -with children for the stories which I knew and could tell, and, as I -found they liked these legends, I thought it a pity they should be lost -after I should have passed away, and so I always meant to write them -down; all the more that I had felt the need of such reading when I was a -child myself. But I never had time to write them as long as my eyes -permitted me to work at my drawing, and afterwards, when I wanted to -begin them, I found myself unable to write at all for more than a few -minutes at once. Finally I thought of turning the stories into rhyme -and learning them all by heart, so that I could write them down little -by little. I thought children would not be very particular, if I could -just make the dear old stories vivid and comprehensible, which I tried -to do. If, as you kindly hope, they may be good for older people as -well, then it must be that when the Lord took from me one faculty He -gave me another; which is in no way impossible. And I think of the -beautiful Italian proverb: 'When God shuts a door He opens a window.'" - -After such an account of the origin and growth of these poems no further -comment would seem fitting, unless it be that made by Cardinal Manning -when writing to Mr. Ruskin in 1883 to thank him for a copy of -Francesca's _Story of Ida_. He writes:-- - -"It is simply beautiful, like the _Fioretti di San Francesco_. Such -flowers can grow in one soil alone. They can be found only in the -Garden of Faith, over which the world of light hangs visibly, and is -more intensely seen by the poor and the pure in heart than by the rich, -or the learned, or the men of culture." - -ANNA FULLER. - - - - - *Preface* - - - *THE OLD STORY-TELLER* - -_In my upper chamber here,_ -_Still I wait from year to year;_ -_Wondering when the time will come_ -_That the Lord will call me home._ -_All the rest have been removed,--_ -_Those I worked for, those I loved;_ -_And, at times, there seems to be_ -_Little use on earth for me._ -_Still God keeps me--He knows why--_ -_When so many younger die!_ - -_From my window I look down_ -_On the busy, bustling town._ -_But beyond its noise and jar_ -_I can see the hills afar;_ -_And above it, the blue sky,_ -_And the white clouds sailing by;_ -_And the sunbeams, as they shine_ -_On a world that is not mine._ - -_Here I wait, while life shall last,_ -_An old relic of the past,_ -_Feeling strange, and far away_ -_From the people of to-day;_ -_Thankful for the memory dear_ -_Of a morning, always near,_ -_Though long vanished, and so fair!_ -_Dewy flowers and April air;_ -_Thankful that the storms of noon_ -_Spent their force and died so soon;_ -_Thankful, as their echoes cease,_ -_For this twilight hour of peace._ - -_But my life, to evening grown,_ -_Still has pleasures of its own._ -_Up my stairway, long and steep,_ -_Now and then the children creep;_ -_Gather round me, where I sit_ -_All day long, and dream, and knit;_ -_Fill my room with happy noise--_ -_May God bless them, girls and boys!_ -_Then sweet eyes upon me shine,_ -_Dimpled hands are laid in mine;_ -_And I never ask them why_ -_They have sought to climb so high;_ -_For 'twere useless to enquire!_ -_'Tis a story they desire,_ -_Taken from my ancient store,_ -_None the worse if heard before;_ -_And they turn, with pleading looks,_ -_To my shelf of time-worn books,_ -_Bound in parchment brown with age._ -_Little in them to engage_ -_Children's fancy, one would say!_ -_Yet, when tired with noisy play,_ -_Nothing pleases them so well_ -_As the stories I can tell_ -_From those pages, old and gray,_ -_With their edges worn away;_ -_Spelling queer, and Woodcut quaint._ -_Angel, demon, prince, and saint,_ -_Much alike in face and air;_ -_Houses tipping here and there,_ -_Lion, palm-tree, hermit's cell,_ -_And much more I need not tell._ - -_Then they all attentive wait,_ -_While the story I relate,_ -_And, before the half is told,_ -_I forget that I am old!_ -_But one age there seems to be_ -_For the little ones and me._ -_What though all be new and strange,_ -_Little children never change;_ -_All is shifting day by day,--_ -_Worse or better, who can say?_ -_Much we lose, and much we learn,_ -_But the children still return,_ -_As the flowers do, every year;_ -_Just as innocent and dear_ -_As those babes who first did meet_ -_At our Heavenly Master's feet._ -_In His arms He took them all:_ -_Oh, 'tis precious to recall--_ -_Blessed to believe it true--_ -_That what we love He loved too!_ - -_Since the time when life was new,_ -_All my long, long journey through,_ -_I have story-teller been._ -_When a child I did begin_ -_To my playmates; later on,_ -_Other children, long since gone,_ -_Came to listen; and of some,_ -_Still the children's children come!_ - -_Some, the dearest, took their flight,_ -_In the early morning light,_ -_To the glory far away,_ -_Made for them and such as they._ -_I have lingered till the last;_ -_All the busy hours are past;_ -_Now my sun is in the west,_ -_Slowly sinking down to rest_ -_Ere it wholly fades from view,_ -_One thing only I would do:_ -_From my stories I would choose_ -_Those 't would grieve me most to lose._ -_And would tell them once again_ -_For the children who remain,_ -_And for others, yet to be,_ -_Whom on earth I may not see._ -_Here, within this volume small,_ -_I have thought to write them all;_ -_And to-day the work commence,_ -_Trusting, ere God call me hence,_ -_I may see the whole complete._ -_It will be a labour sweet,_ -_Calling back, in sunset glow,_ -_Happy hours of long ago._ - - - - - *CONTENTS* - - -Introduction - -Preface - -The Hidden Servants - -The Bag of Sand - -Il Crocifisso della Providenza - -Angels in the Churchyard - -The Origin of the Indian Corn - -The Eldest Daughter of the King - -Bishop Troilus - -The Crosses on the Wall - -Suora Marianna - -The Lupins - -The Silver Cross - -The Tears of Repentance - - - - - *The Hidden Servants - *_*AND OTHER POEMS*_ - - - *THE HIDDEN SERVANTS* - - - A sheltered nook on a mountain side, - Shut in, and guarded, and fortified - By rocks that hardly a goat would climb, - All smoothed by tempest and bleached by time-- - Such was the spot that the hermit chose, - From youth to age, for his life's repose. - There had he lived for forty years, - Trying, with penance and prayers and tears, - To make his soul like a polished stone - In God's great temple; for this alone - Was the one dear wish that his soul possessed, - And 't was little he cared for all the rest, - - Nothing had changed since first he came; - The sky and the mountain were all the same, - Only a beech-tree, that there had grown - Ere ever he builded his cell of stone, - Had risen and spread to a stately grace, - And its shifting shadow filled half the place. - Many a winter its storms had spent, - Many a summer its sunshine lent - To the little cell, till it came to look - Like another rock in the peaceful nook. - Mosses and lichen had veiled the wall, - Till it hardly seemed like a dwelling at all. - - 'T was a peaceful home when the days were soft, - And spring in her sweetness crept aloft - From the plains below where her work was done, - And the hills grew green in the warming sun. - And in summer the cell of the hermit seemed - Like part of that heaven of which he dreamed: - For the turf behind those walls of flint - Was sprinkled with flowers of rainbow tint; - And never a sound but the bees' low hum, - As over the blossoms they go and come; - Or--when one listened--the fainter tones - Of a spring that bubbled between the stones. - - But dreary it was on a winter's night, - When the snow fell heavy and soft and white. - And at times, when the morn was cold and keen, - The footprints of wolves at his door were seen. - But cold or hunger he hardly felt, - So near to heaven the good man dwelt; - And as for danger--why, death, to him, - Meant only joining the Seraphim! - - Poorly he lived, and hardly fared; - And when the acorns and roots he shared - With mole or squirrel, he asked no more, - But thanked the Lord for such welcome store. - The richest feast he could ever know - Was when the shepherds who dwelt below, - Whose sheep in the mountain pastures fed, - Would bring him cheeses, or barley bread, - Or--after harvest--a bag of meal; - And then they would all before him kneel, - On flowery turf or on moss-grown rocks, - To ask a blessing for them and their flocks, - - And once or twice he had wandered out - To preach in the country round about, - Where unto many his words were blest; - Then back he climbed to his quiet nest. - By all in trouble his aid was sought; - And women their pining children brought, - For a touch of his hand to ease their pain, - And his prayers to make them strong again. - - And now one wish in his heart remained: - He longed to know what his soul had gained, - And how he had grown in the Master's grace, - Since first he came to that lonely place. - This wish was haunting him night and day, - He never could drive the thought away. - Until at length in the beech-tree's shade - He knelt, and with all his soul he prayed - That God would grant him to know and see - A man, if such in the world might be, - Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grown - To the self-same measure as his own; - Whose treasure on the celestial shore - Could neither be less than his nor more. - He prayed with faith, and his prayer was heard; - He hardly came to the closing word - Before he felt there was some one there! - He looked, and saw in the sun-lit air - An angel, floating on wings of white; - Nor did he wonder at such a sight: - For angels often had come to cheer - His soul, and he thought them always near. - Happy and humble, he bowed his head, - And listened, while thus the angel said: - "Go to the nearest town, and there, - To-morrow, will be in the market square - A mountebank, playing his tricks for show: - He is the man thou hast prayed to know; - His soul, as seen by the light divine, - Is neither better nor worse than thine. - His treasure on the celestial shore - Is neither less than thine own nor more." - - Next day, in the dim and early morn, - By a slippery path that the sheep had worn, - The hermit went from his loved abode - To the farms below, and the beaten road. - The reapers, out in the field that day, - Who saw him passing, did often say, - What a mournful look the old man had! - And his very voice was changed and sad. - Troubled he was, and much perplexed; - With endless doubting his mind was vexed. - What--He? A mountebank? Both the same? - What could it mean to his soul but shame? - Had his forty years been vainly spent? - And then, alas! as he onward went, - There came an evil and bitter thought,-- - Had he been serving the Lord for nought? - But in his fear he began to pray, - And the black temptation passed away. - - Perhaps the mountebank yet might prove - To have a soul in the Master's love. - He almost felt that it must be so, - In spite of a life that seemed so low. - Perhaps he was forced such life to take, - It might be, even for conscience' sake; - Some cruel master the order gave, - Perhaps, for scorn of a pious slave. - Or, stay--there were saints in ancient days, - Who had such terror of human praise - That, but to gain the contempt they prized, - They did such things as are most despised; - Feigned even madness; and more than one, - Accused of sins he had never done, - Had willingly borne disgrace and blame, - Nor said a word for his own good name! - - In thoughts like these had the day gone by; - The sun was now in the western sky: - The road, grown level and hot and wide, - With dusty hedges on either side, - Had led him close to the city gate, - Where he must enter to learn his fate. - - Now fear did over his hope prevail: - He almost wished in his search to fail, - And find no mountebank there at all! - For then his vision he well might call - A dream that came of its own accord, - Instead of a message from the Lord! - A few more minutes, and then he knew - That all which the angel said was true! - - A mountebank, in the market square, - Was making the people laugh and stare. - With antics more befitting an ape - Than any creature in human shape! - The hermit took his place with the rest, - Not heeding the crowd that round him pressed, - And earnestly set his eyes to scan - The face of the poor, unsaintly man. - Alas, there was little written there - Of inward peace or of answered prayer! - For all the paint, and the droll grimace, - 'T was a haggard, anxious, weary face. - - The mountebank saw, with vague surprise, - The patient, sorrowful, searching eyes, - Whose look, so solemn, and kindly too, - Seemed piercing all his disguises through. - They made him restless, he knew not why: - He could not play; it was vain to try! - His face grew sober, his movements slow; - And, soon as might be, he closed the show. - - He saw that the hermit lingered on, - When all the rest of the crowd were gone. - Then over his gaudy clothes he drew - A ragged mantle of faded hue; - And he himself was the first to speak: - "Good Father, is it for me you seek?" - "My son, I have sought you all the day; - Would you come with me a little way, - Into some quiet corner near, - Where no one our words can overhear?" - - Not far away, in a lonely street, - By a garden wall they found a seat. - It now was late, and the sun had set, - Though a golden glory lingered yet, - And the moon looked pale in it overhead. - They sat them down, and the hermit said: - "My son, to me was a vision sent, - And as yet I know not what it meant; - But I think that you, and you alone, - Are able to make its meaning known. - Answer me then--I have great need-- - And tell me, what is the life you lead?" - - "My life's a poor one, you may suppose! - I 've many troubles that no one knows; - For I have to keep a smiling face. - I wander, friendless, from place to place, - Risking my neck for a scanty gain; - But I must do it, and not complain. - I know, whatever may go amiss, - That I have deserved much worse than this." - - To the hermit this a meaning bore - Of deep humility, nothing more. - So, gaining courage, "But this," he said, - "Is not the life you have always led. - So much the vision to me revealed; - I know there 's something you keep concealed." - - The mountebank answered sadly: "Yes! - 'T is true: you ask, and I must confess. - But keep my secret, good Father, pray; - Or my life will not be safe for a day! - Alas, I have led a life of crime! - I 've been an evil man in my time. - I was a robber--I think you know-- - Till little more than a year ago; - One of a desperate, murderous band, - A curse and terror to all the land!" - - The hermit's head sank down on his breast; - His trembling hands to his eyes he pressed. - "Has God rejected me?" then he moaned: - "Are all my service and love disowned? - Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?" - - The other, seeing the old man grieved, - Said: "Father, why do you care so much - For one not worthy your robe to touch? - The Lord is gracious, and if He will, - He can forgive and save me still. - And as for my wicked life, 't is I, - Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh! - Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace." - - The hermit made him a sign to cease; - Then raised his head, and began to speak, - With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek. - "If you could remember even one - Good deed that you in your life have done, - I need not go in despair away. - Think well; and if you can find one, say!" - - "Once," said the mountebank, "that was all, - I did for the Lord a service small, - And never yet have I told the tale! - But if you wish it, I will not fail. - A few of our men had gone one day-- - 'T was less for plunder, I think, than play-- - To a certain convent, small and poor, - Where a dozen sisters lived secure - For very poverty! dreaming not - That any envied their humble lot. - There, finding the door was locked and barred, - They climbed the wall of a grass-grown yard. - Some vines were planted along its side, - Their trailing branches left room to hide; - Where, neither by pity moved nor shame, - They crouched, till one of the sisters came - To gather herbs for the noonday meal; - Then out from under the leaves they steal! - So she was taken, poor soul, and bound, - And carried off to our camping ground. - A harmless creature, who knew no more - Of the world outside her convent door, - Than you or I of the moon up there! - A shame, to take her in such a snare! - - "But, Father, I wished that I had been - Ten miles away, when they brought her in, - To hold for ransom; or if that failed-- - Oh, well, we knew when the pirates sailed! - We knew their captain, who paid us well, - And carried our prisoners off to sell. - They never beheld their country more, - Being bought for slaves on a foreign shore. - - "But oh! 't was enough the tears to bring, - To see that innocent, frightened thing, - Looking, half hopeful, from face to face, - As if she thought, in that wicked place, - There might be one who would take her part! - She looked at me, and it stung my heart. - But I, with a hard, disdainful air, - Turned from her as one who did not care, - I heard her sighing: she did not know - That her gentle look had hurt me so! - - "That night they set me the watch to keep; - And when the others were all asleep, - And I had been moving to and fro, - With branches keeping the fire aglow, - I crept along to the woman's side,-- - She sat apart, and her arms were tied,-- - And said,--'t was only a whispered word; - We both were lost if the others heard,-- - 'If you will trust me and with me come, - I 'll bring you safe to your convent home.' - She started, into my face she gazed; - Said she, 'I'll trust you--the Lord be praised!' - - "I very quickly the cords unbound. - She rose; I led her without a sound - Between the rows of the sleeping men, - Till we left the camp behind; and then - I found my horse, that was tied near by. - The woman mounted, and she and I - Set off in haste, through the midnight shade, - On the wildest journey I ever made! - By wood and thicket the horse I led, - And over a torrent's stony bed,-- - For along the road I dared not go, - For fear that the others our flight should know, - And follow after; the woman prayed. - I, quick and cautious, but not afraid, - Went first, with the stars for guide, until - We saw the convent, high on a hill. - We reached the door as the east grew red. - 'God will remember!' was all she said; - Her face was full of a sweet content. - She knocked, they opened, and in she went. - The door was closed--she was safe at last! - I heard the bolt as they made it fast-- - And I in the twilight stood alone, - With the lightest heart I had ever known! - - "So, Father, my robber days were o'er; - I could not be what I was before. - I wandered on with a thankful mind, - For I left the old bad life behind, - And tried, as I journeyed day by day, - To gain my bread in an honest way. - But little work could I find to do; - And so, as some juggling tricks I knew, - I took this business which now you see: - 'T is good enough for a man like me!" - - While yet the story was going on, - The cloud from the hermit's face had gone; - And if his eyes in the moonlight shone, - They glistened with thankful tears alone. - He listened in solemn awe until - The mountebank's tale was done; and still, - Some moments, he neither spoke nor stirred, - But silently pondered every word. - - Then humbly speaking, "The Lord," said he, - "Has had great mercy on you and me! - And now, my son, I must tell you why - I came to speak with you--know that I - Have tried with the Lord alone to dwell, - For forty years, in my mountain cell; - In prayer and solitude, day and night, - Have striven to keep my candle bright! - And there, but yesterday, while I prayed, - An angel came to my side, and said - That I should seek you,--and told me where,-- - And should your life with my own compare; - For in God's service and love and grace - Your soul with mine has an equal place, - We both alike have his mercy shared, - The same reward is for both prepared. - I came; I sought you--and you know how - I found you out in the square just now! - At which--may the Lord forgive my pride!-- - At first I was poorly satisfied. - But now I have heard your story through-- - What you in a single night could do!-- - And know that this to the Lord appears - Worth all my service of forty years; - I can but wonder, and thank His grace - Which raised us both to an equal place," - - "But, Father, it never can be true! - What?--I by the side of a saint like you? - Ah no! You never to me were sent. - 'T was some one else whom the angel meant!" - - "No! Listen to me--'T was _you_, my son! - Our Master said that a service done - To a child of His in time of need - Is done to Himself in very deed, - And is with love by Himself received! - So do not think I have been deceived, - But keep those words on your heart engraved - Of the humble woman whose life you saved, - _God will remember_, and trust His care. - He will not forget you here nor there!" - - "O Father, Father! And can it be - That the Lord in heaven remembers me? - And yet I had felt it must be true, - For the woman spoke as if she knew! - But when was ever such mercy shown, - And is this the love He bears His own? - Are these the blessings He holds in store? - Oh, let me serve Him for evermore!" - - And when, at the close of another day, - The hermit wearily made his way - Up the mountain path, from stone to stone, - He did not climb to his cell alone. - The mountebank, still with wondering face, - Came with him up to that peaceful place! - - Together with thankful hearts they went, - Thenceforth together their lives were spent. - And, ere the summer had reached its close, - Another cell from the rocks arose; - The beech, in its strong and stately growth, - Spread one green canopy over both. - On summer evenings, when shepherds guide - Their flocks to rest on the mountain side, - They heard above, in the twilight calm, - Two voices, chanting the evening psalm; - And one was aged, and one was young, - But never was hymn more sweetly sung! - - In love and patience, by deed and word, - They helped each other to serve the Lord,-- - Together to pray, to learn, to teach,-- - Till a deeper blessing fell on each. - Their souls grew upward from day to day; - But he who farthest had gone astray, - Who, lowest fallen, had hardest striven, - Who most had sinned and been most forgiven, - Erelong in the heavenly race outran - The older, milder, and wiser man. - Two years he dwelt with his aged friend, - Then made a blessed and peaceful end; - And, when his penitent life was done, - The hermit wept as he would for a son! - - Ten years had over the mountain passed, - Since that poor mountebank breathed his last, - Helped, to the end, by a woman's prayer, - Ten years; and the hermit still was there. - Grown older, thinner, with shoulders bent, - He seldom forth from his shelter went. - But those he had helped in former days - With prayers and counsel, in thousand ways, - Were mindful of him, and brought him all - He needed now, for his wants were small. - And happy they were their best to give, - If only their mountain saint would live! - For in his living their lives were blest; - And if he longed for the perfect rest, - Patient he was, and content to wait, - While God should please, at the heavenly gate. - Beautiful now his face had grown, - But the beauty was something not his own,-- - A solemn light from the blessed land - Within whose border he soon must stand. - Little he said, but his every word - Was saved and treasured by those who heard, - To be a blessing in years to come, - When he should be theirs no more; and some - Who brought their little to help his need, - Went home with their souls enriched indeed! - - One autumn morning he sat alone, - Outside his cell; and the warm sun shone - With a friendly light on his silver hair, - Through the branches, smooth and almost bare, - Of the beech-tree, now, like him, grown old. - The night before had been sharp and cold; - And the frost was white on leaf and stem - Wherever the rocks still shaded them, - But where the sunbeams had found their way, - In glittering, crystal drops it lay; - And fallen leaves at his feet were strewn, - Yellow and wet, over turf and stone. - - He sat and dreamed, as the aged do, - While, drifting backward, he lived anew - The years that never again should be. - A placid dream--for his soul was free - From all the troubles of long ago, - The doubts, the conflict he used to know! - Doubts of himself, and a contest grim - With evil spirits that strove for him. - Now all was over; that troubled day - Was like a storm that had passed away. - - It seemed to him that his voyage was o'er; - His ship already had touched the shore. - Yet once he sighed; for he knew that he - Was not the man he had hoped to be, - And, looking back on his journey past, - He felt--what all of us feel at last! - And his soul was moved to pray once more - The prayer he had made twelve years before, - Only to know, before he died, - If he were worthy to stand beside - One of God's children, or great or small, - Who served Him truly; and that was all! - - It was not long ere the angel came, - Who, gently calling the saint by name, - Said: "Come, for thou hast not far to go. - One step, and I to thine eyes will show - The very dwelling that shelters now - Two souls as near to the Lord as thou!" - - The hermit rose; and with reverent tread - He followed on as the angel led. - Where a single cleft the rocks between - Gave passage out of the valley green - They passed, and stood in the pathway steep: - The rocks about them were sunken deep - In fern, and bramble, and purple heath, - That sloped away to the woods beneath; - While far below, and on every side, - Were endless mountains, and forests wide, - And scattered villages here and there, - That all looked near in the clear, dry air. - And here a church, with its belfry tall; - And there a convent, whose massive wall - Rose grave and stately above the trees. - The hermit willingly looked at these; - For hope they gave him that now, at least, - Some praying brother or toiling priest - Might be his mate; but it was not so! - The angel showed him, away below, - A slope where a little mountain-farm - Lay, all spread out in the sunshine warm, - Along the side of a wooded hill. - It looked so peaceful and far and still! - And when his eye on the farmhouse fell, - The angel said: "It is there they dwell! - Two women in heart and soul like thee. - Go, find them, Brother, and thou shalt see - All that thou art in their lives displayed." - Before the hermit an answer made, - The angel back to the skies had flown; - He stood in the rocky path alone. - - Along the broken and winding way - Between the heath and the boulders gray; - Through lonely pastures that led him down - To oaken woods in their autumn brown; - And o'er the stones of a rippling stream, - The hermit passed, like one in a dream! - As though the vision, had made him strong: - He hardly knew that the way was long. - - 'T was almost noon when he came in sight - Of the little farmhouse, low and white: - A sheltered lane by the orchard led, - Where mountain ash, with its berries red, - Rose high above him; and brambles, grown - All over the rough, low wall of stone, - And tangled brier with thorny spray, - And feathered clematis, edged the way. - Then, turning shortly, a view he caught - Of both the women for whom he sought. - - One, spinning, sat by the open door; - Her spindle danced on the worn stone floor. - The other, just from the forest come, - Had brought a bundle of branches home, - And spread them now in the sun to dry; - But both looked up as the saint drew nigh. - Then, on a sudden, the spindle stopped, - The branches all on the grass were dropped. - He heard them joyfully both exclaim, - "The Saint! The hermit!" And forth they came - To bid him welcome, and made request - That he would enter their house to rest. - - But when a blessing they both implored, - He had not courage to speak the word. - The only blessing his lips let fall - Was this: "May the good Lord bless us all, - And keep our hearts in His peace divine!" - With hand uplifted, he made the sign, - Then entered in (to their joy complete!) - And willingly took the offered seat. - - And soon before him a meal was spread, - Of chestnuts, of goat's milk cheese, and bread; - While one with her pitcher went to bring - Some water fresh from the ice-cold spring. - - He could not taste of the food prepared - Till he his errand to both declared. - Said he: "My friends, I have come to-day - With something grave on my mind to say, - And more to hear; and I pray you now - To answer truly, and not allow - A feeling, whether of pride or shame, - Or any shrinking from praise or blame, - To change the answer you both may give, - Of what you are and of how you live." - - Then she with distaff still at her side, - Of speech more ready, at once replied. - In years the elder, but not in face, - She kept a little of youthful grace: - The dark eyes under her snow-white hair - Were keen and clear as the autumn air! - - "We are but what we appear to be: - Two toiling women, as you may see! - And neither so young nor strong as when - In field and forest we helped the men. - We now have only the lesser care, - To keep the house, and the meals prepare, - And other labours of small account, - Yet something worth in the week's amount. - But in our youth, and a lifetime through, - We laboured, much as the others do! - Through storm and sunshine we still have tried - To do our best by our husbands' side. - And keep their hearts and our own at rest - When sickness came or when want oppressed. - For even famine our house assailed - That year when the corn and chestnuts failed. - And once--that winter ten years ago-- - Our house was buried beneath the snow, - And ere it melted and light returned, - The very benches for warmth we burned! - Nor is there want, in our busy hive, - Of children keeping the house alive: - For she has seven, and I have nine; - But three of hers and the first of mine - Are safe with Jesus,--more happy they! - Two more have married and gone away. - My son's young wife, with her infant small, - Make up the household--fourteen in all." - - "In this," he said, "there is much to praise: - In humble service you pass your days, - And spend your life for your children's needs. - But tell me now of the pious deeds - (For such there are) that you seek to hide, - To me in a vision signified!" - - "But, sir, we are just two poor old wives. - Who never have done in all our lives - A pious deed that was worth the name!" - She said; and her white head drooped with shame. - - Then said the other: "And yet, 't is true, - We help in all that our husbands do. - When twice a year they have killed a sheep, - 'T is only half for ourselves we keep; - Our poorer neighbours have all the rest. - And this, I fear, is the very best - We ever do!" "And," said he, "'t is well! - But think--is there nothing more to tell?" - - They both were silent a little space, - And each one questioned the other's face, - Till, doubtful, when she had thought awhile, - The elder said, with a modest smile: - "This summer have forty years gone by, - Since she--my sister-in-law--and I - Together came in this house to dwell; - And, Father, it is not much to tell, - But in all these years, from first to last, - No angry word has between us passed, - Nor even a look that was less than kind. - And that is all I can call to mind." - - Enough it was for the hermit's need! - He rose, like one from a burden freed. - "Thank God!" he said; "if indeed He sees - My soul as worthy and white as these! - And great the mercy He doth bestow, - That I should His hidden servants know!" - - A sudden flash, as of heavenly light, - Then shone within him, and all was bright; - And in a moment were things made clear - Had vexed him many a weary year! - For he, who had thought on earth to view - God's people only a scattered few, - Saw now, in spirit, an army great - Of hidden servants who on Him wait. - No saintly legends their names disclose, - And no man living their number knows, - Nor can their service and place declare. - The hidden servants are everywhere! - And some are hated, despised, alone; - And some to even themselves unknown. - But the Father's house has room for all, - And never one from His hand can fall! - The one brave deed of a desperate man, - Grown hard in crime since his youth began, - Who yet, for a helpless woman's sake, - Had strength to rise, and his chain to break; - The holy sweetness that fills the heart - Of him who dwells from the world apart, - His life one dream of celestial things, - Till almost heaven to earth he brings; - Or yet the humble, unnoticed life - Of toiling mother and patient wife, - Who, year on year, has had grace to bear - Her changeless burden of daily care,-- - Are all accepted with equal love, - And laid with treasures that wait above - Until the day when we all believe - That every man shall his deeds receive. - - And when, that evening, with weary feet - The hermit stood by his lone retreat, - And watched awhile, with a tranquil gaze, - The mountains soft in the sunset haze, - And sleeping forest, and field below, - He said, as he saw the star-like glow - Of lights in the cottage windows far, - "How many God's hidden servants are!" - - - - - *The Bag of Sand* - - -THE BAG OF SAND was written by St. Heradius, who visited, some time in -the fifth century, the hermit fathers of the desert and mountains, and -collected many interesting stories about them. - - - *The Bag of Sand* - - -_In that land of desolation_ -_Where, mid dangers manifold,_ -_Lost in heavenly contemplation,_ -_Desert fathers dwelt of old,_ - -_Lay a field where grass was growing_ -_Green beneath the palm-trees' shade;_ -_And a spring, forever flowing,_ -_Life amid the stillness made._ - -_There a brotherhood, incited_ -_By one hope and purpose high,_ -_Came to dwell in faith united,_ -_Pray and labour, live and die._ - -_Mighty was the love that bound them._ -_Each to each, in that wild land,_ -_Where the desert closed around them,_ -_One dead waste of rocks and sand,_ - -_Saving where, to rest their eyes on,_ -_While they dreamed of hills divine,_ -_Blue, above the low horizon,_ -_Stretched the mountains' wavy line._ - -_There could nought of earth remind them,_ -_Nor disturb their dreams and prayers;_ -_They had left the world behind them,_ -_Felt no more its joys and cares._ - -_Far from all its weary bustle,_ -_Will subdued, and mind at ease._ -_They could hear the palm-trees rustle_ -_In the early morning breeze._ - -_When the bell, to prayer inviting._ -_From the low-built belfry rang,_ -_They could hear the birds uniting_ -_With them while the psalms they sang._ - -_From the earth their labour brought them_ -_All they needed--scanty fare._ -_Life of toil and hardship taught them,_ -_Though at peace, the cross to bear._ - -_This is all their record: never_ -_Can we hope the rest to know!_ -_Names and deeds are lost forever,_ -_In the mist of long ago;_ - -_And of all that life angelic_ -_Neither shadow left, nor trace._ -_Save this tale,--a precious relic,_ -_In its wise and saintly grace!_ - -_This, above the darkness lifted_ -_By the truth that in it lay,_ -_On the sea of time has drifted,_ -_And is still our own to-day._ - -_Listen to it, it may teach us_ -_Wisdom, with its words of gold!_ -_Let this far-off blessing reach us_ -_From the desert saints of old._ - - - - Underneath the vines they tended - Where the garden air was sweet, - Where the shadows, softly blended, - Made an ever cool retreat,-- - - These good brethren had assembled, - On their abbot to attend; - All were sad, and many trembled, - Thinking how the day would end. - - Of their little congregation - One who long had faithful been, - Had, beneath a sore temptation, - Fallen into grievous sin. - - What it was they have not told us, - But we know, whatever the blame, - If God's hand should cease to hold us, - You or I might do the same. - - And for judgment's wise completing - (Now the crime was certified), - All were called in solemn meeting - On the sentence to decide. - - Much in doubt, they craved assistance, - Sent to convents far away, - Even to that fair blue distance - Where their eyes had loved to stray. - - Fathers learned, fathers saintly, - Abbots used to think and rule, - Gathered where the brook sang faintly - In the shadow, green and cool. - - Oh the beauty that was wasted - On that day, remembered oft! - Oh the sweetness, all untasted, - Of the morning, still and soft! - - At their feet the water glistened, - Birds were nesting overhead; - No one saw, and no one listened - Save to what the speakers said. - - Long and sad was their debating, - Voices low and faces grave, - While, the gloomy tale relating, - Each in turn his judgment gave. - - "Send him from you!" one was saying - Calmly, as of reason sure; - "All are tainted by his staying, - Let men know your hands are pure! - - "For the shame and sorrow brought you, - Let him be to all as dead! - Harm sufficient has he wrought you!" - But the abbot shook his head. - - For the sin which had undone him, - For much evil brought about, - He would lay a burden on him, - But he could not cast him out! - - All night long the distant howling, - While he waked, of beasts of prey, - Made him think of demons prowling, - Come to snatch that soul away. - - Said another: "I would rather - That his shame by all were seen. - Do not spare him, O my Father; - Let the blow be swift and keen! - - "Let not justice be evaded! - Keep him, bound to labour hard, - With you, but apart degraded, - And from speech with all debarred!" - - This the abbot not refusing, - Only wondered, while he thought, - Was there no one feared the losing - Of a soul the Lord had bought? - - One, more thoughtless, recommended - That in prison closely pent - He should stay till life was ended! - But to this would none consent. - - In the cell where first they closed him, - Shrinking back, as best he might, - From a window that exposed him - Sometimes to a passer's sight, - - He, the black offender, waited, - From them parted since his fall: - Once beloved, now scorned and hated - By himself, he thought by all! - - Nothing asking, nothing pleading, - Speechless, tearless, in despair; - But, like one in pain exceeding, - Moving ever here and there. - - Little did his fate alarm him: - What had he to fear or shun? - What could others do to harm him - More than he himself had done? - - But without were minds divided, - And the morning wore away; - Noon had come, and undecided - Still the heavy question lay. - - Though they looked so stern and fearless, - Some with sinking hearts had come,-- - Hearts that wept when eyes were tearless, - Pleaded when the lips were dumb. - - One who had that morning seen him, - Seeking from their gaze to hide, - Tried from heavy doom to screen him; - But his reasons were denied. - - He of other days was thinking,-- - Happy days, and still so near!-- - When that brother, shamed and shrinking, - Had to all their souls been dear. - - Others tried their hearts to harden, - Felt their pity to be sin; - Silent, prayed the Lord to pardon - Kinder thoughts that rose within. - - Some proposed and some objected, - While, the long debate to end, - One old Father they expected, - And on him would all depend. - - He--their honoured, best adviser-- - Dwelt in desert cave retired; - Older than the rest, and wiser: - Many thought his words inspired; - - Said he knew what passed within them - When by sin or doubt assailed; - True it is, his words could win them, - Often, when all else had failed. - - He would find what all were seeking, - Justice pure, and judgment right! - Still the abbot, seldom speaking, - Pale and sober, prayed for light. - - Light was sent! For, toiling slowly - O'er the sun-baked desert road, - Came that Father, wise and holy, - Bent beneath a weary load! - - Scarce his failing limbs sustained him, - For the burden sorely pressed: - Many times, as though it pained him, - Would he stand to breathe and rest. - - One who watched for his arriving, - Went and told them he was near. - Up they rose, and ceased their striving, - In their joy such news to hear! - - Then they all went forth and met him, - By their reverent love compelled: - Nevermore could one forget him, - Who that day his face beheld! - - Wasted, worn, yet strong to aid them; - Peaceful, though by conflict tried; - Shining with a light that made them - Feel the Lord was by his side! - - But it grieved their souls to see him - By that burden bowed and strained! - Many stretched their hands to free him, - Wondering what the sack contained. - - "Why this burden?" one addressed him; - "All unfit for arms like thine!" - He, while yet the weight oppressed him, - Answered: "These are sins of mine. - - "I must bear them all, my brother, - Ever with me while I go - On my way to judge another! - These have made my journey slow." - - Then the abbot, growing bolder, - Raised the load with trembling hand - From the Father's bended shoulder; - Looked--and found it filled with sand. - - Of them all, there was not any - But was silent for a while; - For the best had sins as many - As the sand-grains in that pile! - - Then they heard the abbot saying, - "God alone must judge us all!" - And a burden, heavy weighing, - Seemed from every heart to fall. - - Awed and hushed, but no more keeping - Pity crushed, or love restrained, - Some were smiling, some were weeping; - Of their striving what remained? - - Many bowed in veneration; - Others all in haste to go - With a word of consolation - To their brother fallen low. - - Hope they brought, and gentler feeling, - To his torn, despairing breast, - And that evening found him kneeling - In the chapel with the rest. - - None arose to judge or sentence: - He whose sin they most deplored, - In his long and sad repentance, - Was with charity restored. - - - - - *Il Crocifisso della Providenza* - - -The crucifix about which this story is told is still to be seen in the -church of the Carmine, where it is kept in the Corsini chapel; and it is -always shown to the public on the first of May, when also (as the ballad -relates) a _festa_ is held in the house once occupied by the three -sisters, in the Via dell' Orto. - -The house seems to have been little changed since they lived there; it -now bears the number 10, and is easily recognized by a niche in the -wall, containing a representation of the crucifix, and the chest piled -with loaves. - -From time immemorial, a lamp burns every night before this little -shrine: the oil is provided by the poor women of the vicinity (and they -are very poor indeed), each one laying by a few _centesimi_ every week -for the purpose. - - - *Il Crocifisso della Providenza* - - - The streets of Florence are fair to see, - With palace and church and tower, - And there the mighty of earth have dwelt, - And the whole world feels their power. - - And many come from the East and West - To gaze on its beauty rare; - To stand where the wise and great have stood, - For their presence is ever there. - - But they never think of the narrow streets - Where the poor of the city dwell; - Those humble houses, so bare and plain, - Have tales of their own to tell. - - There's one by the San Frediano gate, - Not far from the city wall; - Some Latin words on its front engraved - The memory still recall - - Of one, a beggar, to all unknown, - Who knocked at the door one day; - Of what a blessing he left behind - That morn when he went his way, - - It happened hundreds of years ago, - But they tell the story still; - So listen now to the legend old, - And smile at it if you will. - - But if you smile, be it not in scorn; - The tale which I now relate - Has lightened many a heavy heart - By the San Frediano gate. - - Long since, they say, in that ancient house - There were orphan maidens three, - And in the chamber above the door, - Whose window you still may see, - - They worked and prayed, by the world unseen; - And ever, the long day through, - The needles stitched, and the spindle twirled, - And the knitted garment grew. - - So young, and one of them yet a child, - With never an earthly friend; - They prayed each day for the daily bread - Which they knew the Lord would send. - - And toiling cheerfully, lived content, - Nor ever of want complained, - But freely shared with the needy poor - The little their labour gained. - - But evil days to the sisters came, - And their faith was sorely tried: - A merchant, one of the first in town, - That winter had failed and died. - - And many debts had he left behind, - And their work was all unpaid; - For he it was who had bought and sold - The delicate wares they made. - - They prayed for help, and they sought for work; - But awhile they sought in vain. - They pledged the ring that their father wore, - And their mother's golden chain. - - Then work they found, but for neighbours poor, - And some of them could not pay; - 'T was well for them that the spring began, - And the cold had passed away. - - And one by one, as the days went on, - Were the household treasures sold,-- - The copper pitcher, the brazen lamp, - And the nut-wood table old, - - The pot of pinks from the window-sill-- - But when they had sold them all, - An ancient crucifix, carved in wood, - Still hung on the whitewashed wall - - Above the chest where the loaves were kept; - Such blessing its presence shed, - It seemed to them like a living friend, - And not like an image dead! - - In all their troubles, in all their joys, - That crucifix bore a part; - Above all comfort, or wealth, or gain, - 'T was dear to the sisters' heart! - - As babes, before they could understand, - Or ever a prayer repeat, - Each day their father had held them up, - While they kissed the carven feet. - - So April came, and so April went; - And they lived, the Lord knows how! - The elder sister had saved and spared, - But the chest was empty now. - - That very evening she broke in halves, - And gave to the younger two, - One piece of bread--'t was the last they had; - There was nothing more to do, - - Unless, unless--and she looked at them, - And then at the image dear: - She touched it once; but her hand drew back - With a guilty, shrinking fear. - - Her sisters saw, and they started up, - And they said in haste, "Not so! - Take back the bread, if there be no more; - The crucifix must not go!" - - And she took courage, and kissed them both, - And smiled, though her eyes were wet; - Then looked again at the face beloved, - And said, "He will help us yet!" - - They rose next day with the early dawn, - And their hearts were almost light! - The young need little to make them glad, - And the day was fair and bright. - - And pleasant 't is to behold the sun, - Though his rosy-tinted ray - Could only shine on the moss-grown tiles - Of the roof across the way. - - And the air was sweet in the narrow street - Where the swallows toss and glide; - For a perfume came on the morning breeze - From the hills on every side,-- - - A perfume faint from the woods afar, - From blossoming fields of corn; - And bells already their chimes began, - For this was a sacred morn. - - The Carmine church is near at hand, - And the sisters thither hied; - 'T was there they had knelt in happy days - By the dear dead mother's side. - - Then home, through the gay and festive street, - Till they reached the chamber bare: - The time had come for the morning meal, - And alas, no bread was there! - - The elder girl on her sisters looked, - And her face grew white with pain. - Then said the one who was next in age, - "Let us ask the Lord again!" - - So down they knelt on the red-tiled floor, - And the elder bowed her head, - And said aloud, while the others joined, - The prayer for their daily bread. - - And then, with a tempest in her heart - That she could no more withstand, - With her arm around the younger girl, - And the other by the hand, - - She pleaded, raising her tearful face - To the dying face above, - For those she loved in their helpless state - With more than a sister's love. - - "O blessed Jesus! O Lord divine! - Have pity, we wait for Thee! - Look down--Thou seest our empty chest, - Thou knowest how poor we be! - - "Oh, send some bread to my sisters dear, - For the cornfields all are Thine! - I 'd rather lie in my grave to-day - Than to see these children pine! - - "Thou knowest, Lord, I have done my best; - But my hands have failed at length: - A mother's burden is on me laid - With only a maiden's strength. - - "Come, help me! Look at these orphan girls! - Oh, save them from want and woe!--" - Her praying ceased, for they heard a sound, - A knock at the door below. - - They rose, and all to the window went: - A beggar was at the door, - A poor, pale stranger, with staff in hand, - Who had never come before. - - The Month of Mary was coming in; - And many were on their way - To ask for alms in the Virgin's name - On that beautiful first of May. - - "My little sisters," the beggar said, - (And bowed to the maidens three,) - "I pray you spare from your table spread - A morsel of bread for me! - - "I come from far, and I 've far to go; - And I 've eaten nought to-day!" - The elder wept, but she answered not; - And the second turned away. - - The younger looked with her innocent eyes - In the beggar's pleading face: - "And if we could, we would give you food; - But we 're in as hard a case! - - "We finished yesterday all we had-- - The half of a loaf, no more!-- - We just were asking the Lord for bread, - When we heard you at the door." - - "Go, look in the chest, my little maid; - You 'll find there is bread to spare!" - "Alas, we have looked so many times, - And never a crust is there!" - - "Look once again, for the love of Him - Whose image I see within: - He never has failed to help His own, - And He will not now begin." - - So only lest it should seem unkind - To refuse the small request, - The elder girl with a patient smile - Went back to the empty chest. - - She looked--and down on her knees she fell, - With a cry of glad surprise: - The others turned, and their breath stood still, - They could scarce believe their eyes! - - 'T was full! And the loaves were piled so high - They could close the lid no more. - Their tears fell faster for joy that day - Than they fell for grief before! - - But in the midst of their thankful praise - They thought of the starving man: - The little one seized the topmost loaf, - And back to the window ran. - - She looked, she called him--he was not there! - They sought him, but all in vain: - He passed away from their sight that day, - And he came no more again. - - So ends the story; but ever since - That crucifix bears the name - _La Providenza_; and even now - The house has a sacred fame. - - And many kneel where the sisters knelt - Each year on the first of May; - And the floor is all bestrewn with flowers, - And leaves of the scented bay. - - The humble room is with roses decked. - And bright with the candles' glow; - And smoke of incense, and sound of psalm, - Float over the street below. - - A woman aged and silver-haired - Once told me, with solemn thrill, - How she herself had beheld the chest, - Which stands in the chamber still. - - I asked her: "Who was that beggarman? - An angel, do you suppose? - A saint from heaven?" Her face grew grave, - And she answered me, "Who knows?" - - And then, with voice to a whisper dropped, - With an awed, mysterious air, - "Some think," she said, "'t was the Lord Himself - Who came at the maiden's prayer." - - - - - *Angels in the Churchyard* - - -The story of the "Angels in the Churchyard" was told me by Signore -Bortolo Zanchetta of Bassano, who said that he read it in an old book, -but he had lost the book, and could not even remember its name. - - - *Angels in the Churchyard* - - - A saint there was, long time ago, - And all in vain I tried - His name to learn, or whence he came, - Or how or where he died. - - For he from whom the tale I heard - Could tell me nothing more - Save only that within him dwelt - Of love an endless store. - - And in the churchyard once he passed - A summer night in prayer, - For pity of the nameless dead - Who lie forgotten there. - - He knew not when the sun went down, - So earnestly he prayed! - He knew not when the twilight glow - Was lost in deepening shade. - - And when the fair, round moon arose - Behind the wooded hill, - She looked across the churchyard wall, - And found him praying still. - - But when the night was far along, - And when the moon was high, - When all the village lights were out, - And closed was every eye,-- - - When low above the sleeping dead - The folded daisies slept, - And he alone his patient watch - Until the morning kept,-- - - Came angels through the churchyard gate, - But in no heavenly guise; - So unadorned, he little thought - They came from Paradise! - - The moon lit up their robes of white; - No other glory shone. - He watched them, as they paused before - One sunken, moss-grown stone, - - And thrice their silver censers swung, - As at some saintly shrine, - But never incense burnt on earth - Had perfume so divine. - - Between the graves they glided on: - Toward a cross they turned-- - A wooden cross that bore no name-- - And there the incense burned. - - A fading garland on it hung, - Of wild flowers simply twined; - Whoever lay in that poor grave - Had left some love behind. - - But next they sought a dreary place - Against the northern wall; - He could not see if mound were there, - The nettles grew so tall! - - And on to others, three or four, - Their noiseless steps they bent: - Where'er they stayed, the incense rose; - Then, as they came, they went. - - But often to that churchyard green - Did he at night repair; - And ever, when the hour returned, - The angels all were there. - - He thought them only white-robed priests; - And much he wondered why - Each night at certain graves they stayed, - While others they passed by. - - Till, after waiting, wondering long, - One night he forward pressed, - And spoke with one who walked apart, - A step behind the rest. - - 'T was starlight now; the moon had waned: - He hardly saw the face - Of him he talked with; but he felt - Great peace was in the place. - - "Of God's own saints," the angel said, - "A few lie buried here; - And He so loves them that to Him - Their very dust is dear! - - "So, while their souls with perfect peace - Are in His presence blest, - He will not that these humble graves - Should all unhonoured rest. - - "Each night from heaven He sends us down. - Where'er His flowers are sown-- - These bodies that shall one day rise, - All glorious like His own!" - - The saint was silent, for his lips - Could find no word to say: - He stood entranced, and like to one - Whose soul is far away. - - At length he roused; the stars were dim, - The night had half withdrawn: - A light was in the eastern sky, - The clear pale light of dawn. - - Then came a freshening in the air, - A twitter in the trees, - A ripple in the dewy grass - That felt the early breeze; - - And sounded from the tower above - The sweet-toned, ancient bell; - While bright and busy over all - The summer morning fell. - - The daisies opened; happy birds - Sang in the sunshine free. - The dead alone are sleeping now; - Their morning is to be. - - - - - *The Origin of the Indian Corn* - - -This story was told me by the Contessa Vittoria Percoto Antonini of -Palmanuova, who said that she heard it in her youth at a _Fila_, which -is a sort of social gathering held in the winter evenings by the -_contadini_ in that part of the country. - -The winter is cold, and these _contadini_, who are very poor and can ill -afford the wood for a fire, meet in the cattle-shed, where the breath of -cows and oxen warms the air a little. - -They often say, "It is the way that the Gesu Bambino was warmed!" A -lantern hangs from one of the beams overhead, and by its dim light the -women spin or knit. All talk together, and (as the Contessa Vittoria -expresses it) "the boys make themselves agreeable to the girls, very -much as though it were a party of ladies and gentlemen." - -And from time to time the elder people entertain the company with -stories, of which this is a pretty fair specimen. - - - *The Origin of the Indian Corn* - - *A Legend of Friuli* - - - In the far Italian border land, - With its rolling hills and mountains grand, - And the Alps of Carnia rising near, - Where the snow lies more than half the year; - With crags where the clinging fir-trees grow - Above the chestnuts and vines below, - From the weary, changing world remote,-- - There age on age doth a legend float. - The young have learnt it from aged men; - It never was written yet with pen. - It seems at first, when they tell it o'er, - A childish fancy, and nothing more; - And bearing the impress, deep indeed, - Of the hard and struggling lives they lead: - A thing to smile at, and then forget, - Scarce worthy a passing thought--and yet - The simple tale may a lesson teach - If only one can its meaning reach! - Like one of their living, hill-side springs, - That shows the image of common things; - So he who looks on its surface sees - The bending flowers, the arching trees, - The sun, the shadow, the rocks, the sky, - The busy birds that go flitting by, - While deep below is the endless wealth - Of water, given for life and health. - - In homely form is the lesson taught; - But worthy still of a reverent thought. - So listen, think; if you have a mind - To seek, and the hidden treasure find: - For Truth, most precious and fair, doth dwell - In the crystal depth of this mountain well. - - And this is the story, often told - In the winter evenings long and cold; - In the low-roofed, dimly lighted shed, - Where the breath of oxen serves instead - Of a blazing hearth to warm the place: - A smile of peace is on every face, - And hearts are light, and they often say, - "Our Lord was warmed in the self-same way, - That night when He on the earth was born!" - And the shed no longer seems forlorn, - For it makes them feel Him near at hand: - And they the better can understand - How by His pity and timely aid - The beautiful Indian corn was made. - - 'T was in the days when He dwelt below, - Before 't was given to man to know - Or who He was or from whence He came; - And the world had hardly heard His name! - He journeyed over the country roads, - He taught the poor, and He eased their loads. - He had no dwelling wherein to rest - With the one or two who loved Him best, - And once in seeking a friendly door - They came to a farmer's threshing-floor. - The hot July had but just begun; - The road lay white in the blinding sun; - The air was heavy with odours sweet; - The sky was pale, as if faint with heat. - Two weary men and two women pale - Were threshing, each with a heavy flail,-- - A mile away you could hear the sound - In measured cadence along the ground. - Then, moved with pity at such a sight, - It pleased Him to make their burden light. - At first He prayed them to pause and rest; - They only smiled at the strange request, - And laboured on till He spoke again: - "Fear not, Myself I will thresh the grain!" - - At sound of His holy voice, they knew - That what He said He would surely do! - He bade them bring Him a burning brand, - And, though they little could understand, - The brand was brought, and they saw Him bend, - And touch the corn with the lighted end. - Then swiftly, as by a tempest blown, - The straw to the farther side was thrown; - The wheaten kernels, all clear and bright, - Lay piled on high--'t was a pleasant sight! - Another and smaller heap contained - The chaff, and whatever else remained. - 'T was threshed and winnowed, and all in one; - The work of days in a moment done! - The happy threshers, with one accord, - Gave thanks and praise to the blessed Lord; - And grateful tears at His feet were shed. - - Meanwhile the news through the village spread; - For more than one had been near, and seen - The miracle of the wheat made clean. - From field and garden and cottage door, - The people flocked to the threshing-floor. - Then came a time of such joy supreme - As never had been in thought or dream. - For when they looked on the clean-threshed wheat, - And heard the threshers their tale repeat, - And knew that He had this wonder done, - They knelt and worshipped Him, every one! - Oh, think how happy they were and blest, - Who might awhile in His presence rest! - Think what it would be for you or me - That voice to hear and that face to see! - The children run to Him where He stands, - And cling with their little sunbrowned hands - To His garment; and the parents feel - Their burden lightened while yet they kneel. - "Thank God, who spared us!" the aged say, - "To look on Thy blessed face to-day!" - The sick are healed, and the weak made strong, - And hearts consoled that had suffered long: - A sound of gladness, of praise and prayer, - Floats far away on the summer air. - - Amid such transports of young and old, - How was it that one could still be cold? - A certain widow whom all confessed - To be the bravest, perhaps the best, - Among the women the place contained-- - Why was it that she aloof remained? - - Handsome and stately, and strong of arm - To guard her fatherless babes from harm, - With five little hungry mouths to fill; - For them she laboured with might and will! - But, proud of spirit, she could not bear - That other hearts should her burden share. - Of soul too high for an evil deed, - She scorned the others, but helped their need. - In wit and wisdom the rest excelled, - And yet their kindness too oft repelled; - Accepted nothing, though free to give, - And almost rather had ceased to live - Than share the loaf from a neighbour's shelf. - Yes, proud of her very pride itself! - - She nursed it, cherished it, thought it grand, - To guide unaided her house and land, - And thanked the Lord, when she knelt to pray, - That never one in the place could say, - "I help the widow!" And now she stood - Apart from the kneeling multitude, - And half impatient and half amused, - She smiled at the simple words they used, - Of praise and wonder, and thought how she - Could never so weak and childish be! - - For her 't was a proud and happy day, - For rest and plenty before her lay: - Herself had sown and herself had reaped; - And now the beautiful sheaves lay heaped, - Not far away, by her open door; - Her heart rejoiced in the ample store! - A neighbour saw her, and called her name: - "Come near! perhaps He will do the same - For thee, and thy summer's work complete; - I know that thou hast not threshed thy wheat!" - - She tossed her head with a smile of pride: - "I never yet, since my husband died, - Asked help or favour of any one! - Besides, I saw how the thing was done. - And I can do it as well as He; - He need not turn from His way for me!" - She looked on the awed, adoring crowd, - In scorn a moment; then laughed aloud, - To see the horror among them spread, - At sound of the evil words she said. - - Our Lord's disciples, though saints they were, - Had no good wishes that day for her! - Indeed, their patience was greatly tried - To see Him slighted and thrust aside. - One even whispered, "Hast Thou not heard?" - But He said never an angry word! - One look of pity He on her cast, - Then turned, and forth from the village passed, - Along the lane where the grass was brown, - And birds were plucking the thistle-down, - Till under the olives' silver screen - He turned aside, and no more was seen. - - And now the widow of heart so proud - Would show to the grave, indignant crowd - Her greater wisdom; with this intent - She calmly in to her fireside went; - Some coals she brought in an iron pan-- - "If one can do it, another can!" - She said; and then with a careless smile - She touched the coals to her golden pile. - - A flash, a crackle, a blinding blaze - Of flame, that struggles, and soars, and sways, - And sinks a moment, and soars again-- - That was the end of the widow's grain! - A few short moments, and nought remained - Of all that her loving toil had gained - But blackened tinder, and embers red, - And the sullen smoke-cloud overhead! - - Her friends and neighbours, I fear, meanwhile - Were far less minded to weep than smile; - And hardly one was with pity moved, - For the woman was not greatly loved. - And all were angry, as well as grieved, - To think of the slight our Lord received, - After his wonderful goodness shown, - And when He had made their cares His own! - - The boys were ready to dance and shout, - At seeing the red sparks blown about; - The maidens whispered and laughed aside; - Their parents talked on the sin of pride. - To help or comfort her, no one planned, - Except the poorest of all the band; - An aged woman, who near her came, - And drew her back from the scorching flame. - "Poor soul!" she said, "thou hast children five! - And I have none in the world alive. - Keep up thy heart! I am well content - To share with thee what the Lord has sent. - I just have gathered my harvest store, - And when 't is gone, He will send us more!" - - In vain they spoke to her, ill or good; - She neither listened nor understood. - She minded not if they frowned or smiled; - Her face was white, and her eyes were wild, - As, lost in horror, she stood and gazed - To see the corn by her labour raised, - Their store of food for the coming year, - Consume before her and disappear! - Then came the cry of a little child, - From sleep awakened, in terror wild. - That cry brought life to her fainting heart; - She turned around with a sudden start, - And said, in a husky voice and low, - "Which way did that Blessed Stranger go?" - - A storm of voices around her rose; - The woman's purpose they all oppose. - "_Which way?_" they angrily say; "but how? - Wilt thou have courage to seek him now? - And after thy shameful words to-day, - Is He to stop for thee on His way? - Is He to come when He hears thy call? - But, woman, hast thou no shame at all?" - "Nay, go not near Him!" another said: - "That man has power to strike thee dead, - And thou hast angered Him! Let Him go-- - Thy pride has ruined thee; be it so!" - - Though none to help her a hand would lend, - That gray-haired woman was still her friend; - She could not speak, for her voice was drowned - In such a tumult of angry sound. - She only made with her wrinkled hand - A sign the widow could understand, - And quick as thought, and before they knew, - Away on her wild pursuit she flew. - - Our Blessed Lord, with His followers few, - Had journeyed on for a mile or two, - When, on the brow of a rocky hill, - The others noticed that He stood still - And looked behind Him; they did the same. - A woman running toward them came, - Running and stumbling, and falling oft, - And throwing wildly her arms aloft, - As if entreating them still to stay - Till she could finish the toilsome way! - They looked; and pity their souls possessed - At first in seeing her thus distressed; - But when they knew her, their hearts grew hard, - Nor would they longer her prayers regard. - "Good Lord, that woman it is," they say, - "Who scorned and slighted Thee so to-day. - She knows her folly, perhaps, too late; - For her, most surely, we should not wait!" - "She needs me now!" was His sole reply; - And still He waited--they wondered why! - - Down in the dust at His feet she fell: - Her doleful story she could not tell, - For speech had failed, and she vainly tried: - But, stretching her helpless hands, she cried - (With lips that hardly the words could form, - They trembled so with the inward storm), - "Good Lord, have patience, and pity take - On me, for the innocent children's sake!" - And then from her eyes began to pour - A flood of tears, and she said no more. - She dropped her head on her heaving breast; - But He in His wisdom knew the rest. - And when He looked on her, bowed and crushed, - Her pride all broken, her boasting hushed, - "Take heart!" He said: "I will give thee more - And better grain than thou hadst before." - - The day was drawing toward a close, - The sky was clear in its deep repose; - The sun, just sinking away from sight, - Had touched with a solemn crimson light - The smoky column that, dark and thin, - Still rose where the widow's sheaves had been. - The neighbours lingered, or came and went - To look, and talk of the day's event. - And, smiling grimly the wreck to view, - Some said: "The widow has had her due!" - But more of them shook their heads and sighed, - To think of the bitter fruits of pride. - And one old woman looked down the lane, - And wished the widow would come again! - The five poor little ones sat forlorn, - Beside the blackened and wasted corn; - And ate the bread that the neighbours brought: - For them, at least, there was pitying thought. - No sin of theirs, if the corn was burned! - And then it was that the Lord returned. - - Returned, as ever, to save and bless! - And while the people around Him press, - The widow kneels and the children weep, - He lays His hand on the smouldering heap. - His touch has the evil work undone; - And in the light of the setting sun - The corn returned where the ashes lay; - But not as it was at noon that day. - To twice their size had the kernels grown, - And each with a burning lustre shone. - For, since that grain through the fire has passed, - 'T will bear its colour until the last! - - A few, in seeing the store increased - Of her who seemed to deserve it least, - Began to murmur; and yet, maybe, - Themselves were more in the wrong than she! - With all her folly, with all her sin-- - For all her ignorant pride had been - Far more, alas, than her reason strong,-- - She never did Him that grievous wrong - Of thinking He could refuse the prayer - Of one who sought Him in her despair; - Or that her sin, were it twice as great, - Could close His heart to her woful state; - Or lie so heavily on her soul - But what His love could outweigh the whole! - But most rejoiced in the happy sight - Of evil conquered and wrong made right. - - And so from ruin and wreck was born - The beautiful, flame-hued Indian corn! - - - - - *The Eldest Daughter of the King* - - -The two stories of the Patriarch, St. John of Alexandria, which are -especially interesting, as being without doubt true in all their -principal facts, are taken from a short account of that wonderful man, -written by St. Leontius, Bishop of Napolis, in Cyprus, who visited -Alexandria after the Patriarch's death, and wrote in great part from the -dictation of the Patriarch's servant, by name Zaccarias, himself a man -of saintly character. The stories must have been written by St. -Leontius not long after 620, when the Patriarch died. - - - *The Eldest Daughter of the King* - - - Saint John of Alexandria--blessed name, - Recalling ever holy thought and deed! - O heart forever warm with heavenly flame! - O hand forever full for others' need! - - Blessed and blessing thousands! Since his day, - Twelve hundred years, and more, have come and gone, - Their beauty dead, their glory passed away: - But in our loving thought he still lives on. - - Of all who ever walked on earthly sod, - (Though many loved and saintly names there be,) - I know not if another ever trod - More closely in his Master's steps than he! - - To comfort all who suffer,--this alone - His soul desired; for this he prayed and strove - With heart unchanging; and for him were none - Too high for pity, nor too low for love. - - And often was he rich, and often poor; - For God upon him had great wealth bestowed, - Which endless store of blessing did procure - To souls that fainted with their weary load. - - Nor could he e'er from sorrow turn away, - Nor from a brother's need his hand withhold; - But when his all was spent, men used to say, - The good Lord gave him back a hundredfold. - - Enough there was, and ever more to spare, - Though help abundant came at every call. - When prudent friends had prayed him to forbear, - He only said, "God has enough for all." - - Till, for their souls' content, he told the truth,-- - He being now a grey-haired aged man,-- - The holy vision that had blessed his youth, - And changed, of all his life, the course and plan. - - "A boy I was, and in my father's home - I slept; 't was night, and I was all alone, - When to my side I felt a presence come; - A hand awakened me that touched my own. - - "I saw the chamber all ablaze with light, - And there, before me, stood a lady fair, - With olive crowned, and clad in raiment bright, - Such as, I think, the saints in Heaven may wear. - - "Hers was no earthly beauty, but a grace - Most sweet and solemn that no words can reach; - I looked awhile in her celestial face, - And then addressed her, but with timid speech: - - "'Who art thou, O my lady, that dost bring - Such glory in the night?' Then answered she: - 'I am the eldest daughter of the King, - And more than all my sisters, he loves me. - - "'For me He left His glory: it was I - Who led Him on along the thorny road, - To suffer, and for others' sin to die; - For me He shared thy sorrow, bore thy load. - - "'Take me for thy companion: I will be - Thy friend as I was His, and by the hand - Will lead thee where at evening thou shalt see - The emperor's face, and in his presence stand. - - "While yet the voice was sounding in my ear - The vision ceased; I saw the light no more: - The moon was shining through the window near, - And all the house was silent as before. - - "And, waiting till I saw the dawn ascend, - I lay and mused upon this wondrous thing; - And tried, with my child's mind, to comprehend - Who was the eldest daughter of the King, - - "I prayed, I pondered long in vain; until - A light from Heaven was on my spirit shed: - And not by wisdom, nor by earthly skill, - I knew the meaning of the words she said. - - "When Christ our blessed Lord to earth came down, - And gave His life for lost and thankless men, - And changed His glory for a thorny crown, - 'T was Mercy led and did constrain Him then. - - "Ah, woe to us, if Mercy had not been - His eldest daughter, and His guide that day! - Then had we died, and perished in our sin, - Unpitied, unforgiven, cast away." - - Such was the Patriarch's story, and we know - That Mercy in his heart her dwelling made, - As in no other; and his life below - Was Mercy, in a thousand forms displayed. - - And when the summons came that comes to all, - As on a journey distant far he went; - While he, rejoicing, heard the heavenly call, - This token to the stricken church was sent. - - A humble convent had his bounty shared, - From Alexandria some few miles away: - And there, where he for rest had oft repaired, - An aged brother sick and dying lay. - - For years infirm and helpless had he lain, - But strong in faith, and happy in God's will, - Through all the weary days and nights of pain, - His only work to suffer and lie still. - - They two were friends, the Patriarch and he, - For oft the busy saint had loved to turn - From care and work, that peaceful face to see, - And from those patient lips some lesson learn. - - And now as he lay dying, glad to go, - Yet thinking, maybe, of his absent friend, - To him was granted in a dream to know, - Of that most holy life, the blessed end. - - For, sleeping, he beheld in vision clear - That sombre palace by the poor beloved, - Where the good Patriarch, year after year, - Had all their burdens lightened or removed. - - And down the stairway moved a long array - Of priests and others; slowly did they tread, - A grave procession, as on festal day, - And he, the Patriarch, was at their head. - - The loved companions of his toil were there, - Who helped him long to labour and endure, - Who knelt beside him in the church at prayer, - Or bore his secret bounty to the poor. - - They passed the door where none had knocked in vain, - They crossed the courtyard with its well of stone; - But at the outer gate did all remain - With saddened look, while he went forth alone. - - And now the vision changed, he walked no more - The city street that knew his step so well, - But trod a pleasant path, unknown before, - Through a fair land, where peace did ever dwell. - - There rose the emperor's palace on a hill, - O'erlooking all the country, where it lay - Spread out beneath it, beautiful and still, - In all the sweetness of an April day. - - Grand was that mansion, stately to behold; - To tell its beauty words can ne'er begin,-- - The thousand columns, and the domes of gold, - And shining all as from a light within. - - He neared the palace--of their own accord - The lofty gates before him open swing, - And in the glory, as it outward poured, - Came forth the eldest daughter of the King, - - Came as he saw her on that far-off night - Which star-like through his life's long journey shone, - Wearing her olive crown, her robe of light, - And came to meet him, where he walked alone, - - He bowed and knelt before her, for he knew - That presence which had blessed him long before; - While from her folded mantle forth she drew - A crown of olive, like the one she wore, - - And placed it on the saintly silvered head; - Then took his hand. He rose; nor did they wait: - The dreamer watched them as they onward sped, - Till, hand in hand, they entered through the gate. - - And then, as light concealed them, he awoke, - And to the brethren, gathered in his cell, - In tearful silence listening while he spoke, - He did the story of his vision tell, - - And bade them note what hour the dream was sent, - Which some with anxious hearts made haste to do; - Then waited, fearing what the vision meant; - Till time had shown them all they feared was true. - - For when the dreaded tidings came at last, - They knew that on that very hour and day - Their much-loved father from this life had passed, - In his own isle of Cyprus, far away. - - - - - *Bishop Troilus* - - - *Bishop Troilus* - - *THE MANSION IN HEAVEN* - - - In pomp and state, with following great, the Bishop Troilus came - To the town of Alexandria, which knew him long by fame, - To see the holy Patriarch, who had been his friend of old, - To hear his words of wisdom, and his saintly life behold. - In youth their paths together lay, and both with one accord - Had chosen then the better part, and thought to serve the Lord; - For half a century now and more had each one gone his way. - The Patriarch nearer was to God, far nearer than that day; - For his soul was like a garden where the flowers that then were - sown, - With care and patient tending, had to perfect beauty grown. - - And Troilus? ... In the world's esteem he stood as high, or - higher; - His piety did all men praise, his eloquence admire; - He had fiery words to thrill them, he had flowery words to - please, - And when he preached on festal days, the people swarmed like - bees; - From altar steps to open door there was hardly room to stand. - And 't was not the sermon only, but his presence was so grand; - With his grave and aged beauty, with his form erect and tall, - With saintly face and silver hair, he won the hearts of all. - When through the city he returned, so lofty and serene, - A train of priests attended him, all with obsequious mien; - And children followed open-eyed, and gentle ladies bent - From balcony and window high to see him as he went. - Indeed he was a stately sight in silken raiment clad, - The ring he wore was valued more than aught the Patriarch had; - And the cross upon his bosom, that the people wondering viewed, - Gave back the sunshine, when he walked, from jewels many-hued. - And men said his life was blameless, but it still must be - confessed, - Though the saints were glad to own him, yet the sinners loved - him best. - He was rich, and he was famous, and, as all his life had shown, - He was great in worldly wisdom, and the world will love its own. - - But while saints and shiners praised him, there was one who did - not praise, - But whose eyes forever watched him with a sad and anxious gaze; - For the Patriarch, simple-hearted, was not dazzled like the - rest, - And he knew the deadly passion that the Bishop's soul - possessed,-- - Yes, more deadly than another, for it lay so still and cold, - Like a serpent coiled within him,--'twas the growing love of - gold. - - It had choked away his pleasure, it had eaten up his peace, - As with every year that left him he had seen his wealth - increase, - Till his heart grew dry and withered in the smoke of worldly - care; - But it dulled him with its poison, and he knew not it was there. - Oh, the Patriarch longed to see him from such cruel bondage - free, - And he pleaded hard for Troilus every night on bended knee; - For there yet was time to save him, so he hoped and so believed, - But the days and weeks were passing, and no answer he received. - - But with praying he grew bolder, and to combat he began, - And he left his door one morning with a wise and hopeful plan; - And he said in solemn murmur, as he walked along the way, - "I must go and fight with Satan for my brother's soul to-day; - He is cruel, he is cunning, but his arts will be in vain, - The strongest net he ever wove will never bear the strain - Of seeing and of hearing what each day I hear and see, - And the Lord has saved my brother if he will but come with me." - - It was in the early morning, long before the noise and heat, - And the life was just beginning in the shady city street, - When he saw a church door open, and he turned and entered in. - "I will ask the Lord to help me in this work that I begin." - - There were some who entered near him, and he saw they came in - haste, - Toiling men and burdened women, who had little time to waste; - But they stole some precious minutes in that church to kneel and - pray, - To refresh their souls and cheer them for the labours of the - day; - And they gathered close around him on the pavement, for they - felt - That their prayers would rise the higher if their father with - them knelt. - Then he said to them: "My children, you must help me now indeed, - For my heart and soul are troubled for a friend in sorest need; - He is low with mortal sickness, but no earthly skill can cure. - Pray the Lord to show His mercy to the poorest of the poor." - So they knelt and prayed together, till the morning sun was - high, - For the Patriarch's heart was kindled, and the time went quickly - by. - - Troilus too had risen early, and had said his morning prayers, - But he said them somewhat coldly, being filled with other cares. - At that moment he was thinking, while he counted up his store, - Upon certain silver goblets he had seen the day before, - Which a silversmith had brought him, and had hoped that he would - buy. - They were nobly wrought and chiselled, and the price indeed was - high, - But he thought upon his table they would look exceeding fine - When his friends, the rich and noble, should come in with him to - dine; - Then how all of them would envy, and the thought his spirit - cheered,-- - When a gentle knock aroused him, and the Patriarch appeared. - Very bright his eyes were shining, and his face was all aglow, - But his voice was strange and solemn, when he told him, "I must - go - To the hospital, my brother, and I came here on my way; - If we both could go together, it would be a happy day. - There I find my greatest blessing, every morning fresh and new, - But far greater, but far sweeter could I share it once with - you." - How the heart of Troilus softened, as those eyes upon him shone, - At their look of earnest pleading, at the tremor in the tone! - Strange it was that look could melt him and that voice could - change him so, - Calling back to life, a moment, what had withered long ago,-- - Some old good that stirred within him, often spurned and thrust - aside. - But the flowers the Lord had planted, though they dwindled, had - not died; - He was poor in heavenly treasure, but he loved the Patriarch - still. - "I will come," he answered quickly; "you may lead me where you - will." - - There were looks and tones of wonder in the hospital that day, - From the rows of low white couches where the sick and dying lay, - As, with all his train about him, in his splendour and his - pride, - On he walked, the Bishop Troilus, by the simple Patriarch's - side. - But erelong the two were parted, for as Troilus looked around, - He recoiled in shrinking horror from each doleful sight and - sound; - While the Patriarch loved to linger for a while by every bed, - With his strong arms ever ready to sustain a drooping head; - Happy in each humble service, and forgetting all his state, - While he thanked the Lord who sent him on these stricken ones to - wait. - How the pale sad faces brightened into smiles as he drew near, - And what loving words were murmured, faintly murmured in his - ear! - - "Does he well," said Bishop Troilus, as he saw him turn and go - From one bedside to another, "does he well to stoop so low?" - Yet had Troilus only known it, they were not the poor alone - Whom his brother served that morning, but their Master and his - own. - There was one but just recovered, light of heart, though poor - and weak, - With a journey long before him, going forth his home to seek, - Far away among the mountains where his wife and children stayed; - But the Patriarch's love had found him ere the stranger sought - his aid, - Giving money for the journey, giving blessed words of cheer. - Then he turned, for time was pressing, and a sadder face lay - near, - Worn by months of pain and languor; he was young, had once been - strong, - He was fading now, but slowly, and perhaps would suffer long, - And the hundred wants of sickness who can know that has not - proved? - He had wearied all about him, but the Patriarch's heart was - moved; - So he heard the long complaining to which no one else gave heed, - Then he left him, soothed and peaceful, with enough for all his - need. - So with one and with another for a moment he would stay, - At each bed he left a blessing, and a blessing brought away, - Till his purse grew light and empty, as had happened oft before; - Though he turned it up and shook it, there was not one penny - more. - - Then he turned and sought for Troilus, who that moment, as it - chanced, - With a look subdued and solemn, stood and gazed, like one - entranced, - On the strange, unearthly beauty, on the light of perfect peace - In a woman's face before him; she was nearing her release, - And a glory rested on her from the opening door above; - Yet one shadow marred its splendour when she looked with anxious - love - On a little maid, her daughter, with a pretty, careworn face, - Who had brought two younger children, waiting now for her - embrace, - Wondering why she did not give it, why so deadly still she lay, - For they knew not, though she knew it, she would not live out - the day. - Said the Patriarch: "Brother Troilus, have you nothing you could - give - To this woman and her children, for she has not long to live? - And I see her mind is troubled, and I think, before they part, - Had she something she could leave them, it would ease her - burdened heart; - For myself, I freely promise I will make these babes my care, - But to-day my purse is empty, so I pray you not to spare." - - Oh! alas, poor Bishop Troilus! how this pleading broke the spell - That the woman's look had woven, and how low his spirit fell! - For he dearly loved his money, with a passion deep and blind, - As a scholar loves his learning, or a saint his peace of mind. - But the eyes of all were on him at that moment, and he knew - 'T was in hopeful expectation of what such a saint would do; - There were many who had entered from the busy street to gaze, - He would not be shamed before them, they should still have cause - to praise; - But his purse would have to open, so he turned and waved his - hand - To the priest who always bore it, with a gesture of command. - "For this woman for her daughter and the two poor babes," said - he, - "Lay down thirty golden pieces in the Patriarch's hand for me." - - There were none who had not heard him, for his voice was loud - and clear, - And a low, admiring murmur rose from all the couches near, - While the Patriarch stood rejoicing in the deed his friend had - done; - By himself he judged another, and he thought the victory won. - For one moment Bishop Troilus feels his narrow heart expand, - When the maiden thanks him weeping, and the children kiss his - hand, - And the mother, just departing, from the pillow where she lies, - Turns one happy smile upon him, with a blessing in her eyes. - - But alas! on home returning, when the sacrifice was made, - When the Patriarch's holy presence was no longer there to aid, - He did much bewail his money; half in anger, half in pain, - To have parted in a moment with what took so long to gain. - And his heart was in a turmoil, and a pain was in his head, - Till the raging turned to fever, and he threw him on his bed - In a storm of angry passion that no reason could control; - For to him to part with money was like parting with his soul. - But he said no word to any of this rage and inward strife, - And the priests who waited on him were in terror for his life, - And as nothing made him better, they took counsel, and agreed - That the Patriarch, and he only, was the man to meet their need; - So they sent and humbly prayed him if to come he would be - pleased, - For his friend the Bishop Troilus was with sudden illness - seized. - - In his chamber lay the Bishop, sick in body, sick in mind; - But the Patriarch, wise in spirit, had his malady divined. - So he came and sat beside him, patient still, but pale with - grief, - While he made one last endeavour for that troubled soul's - relief. - But his friend was sore and angry, and his words he would not - hear, - For the presence now disturbed him that had lately been so dear. - And he lay with face averted, till he heard the Patriarch say, - "I have brought you back the money that you gave away to-day." - Then indeed he started wildly, and his eyes he opened wide, - And he turned and faced his brother with a joy he could not - hide; - For with sudden hope he trembled, and it paled his fevered - cheek; - And the Patriarch's heart was sinking, but he still went on to - speak: - "When I asked your help this morning, I had nothing of my own, - So I left to you the blessing which had else been mine alone; - For those three dear orphan children I had gladly done the - whole, - So their mother up in heaven might be praying for my soul. - And I now have come to ask you if this grace you will resign,-- - Will you take again the money, and let your good deed be mine? - Yet I pray you to consider, ere you grant it or refuse, - What a great and heavenly treasure I shall win and you will - lose; - For indeed I would not wrong you, though to me the gain be - great. - So then do not answer rashly,--there is time, we both can wait, - And 't were well to think a little on the words our Master said, - How He left the poor behind, that we might serve them in His - stead; - And whatever help we grant them, be it great or be it small, - To our blessed Lord we give it, to our Lord, who gave us all." - - Then made answer Bishop Troilus, "As for what you now propose, - If it please you I am ready, and the bargain we can close. - There are many kinds of service, and each needful in its way, - And I think the Lord has set me in His church to preach and - pray, - And to save the souls that perish, and to teach men how to live, - While your own vocation, brother, is with open hand to give. - Let not one defraud the other, take your part and leave me mine, - For however we may divide it, all the service is divine. - Let us feed God's flock together, for His needy children care, - I the souls, and you the bodies, so the burden we may share." - "Then so be it," said the other, but his voice was low and - grave, - And he prayed to God in silence for the soul he could not save. - "We must write it all in order, we must sign and seal it too, - So that mine may be the blessing, while the gold remains with - you." - - So they wrote a contract solemn, to which each one signed his - name, - In which he, the Bishop Troilus, did relinquish every claim - To whatever reward or merit his one pious deed had earned, - Since the thirty golden pieces to his hand had been returned. - Then the Patriarch counted slowly all the pieces, one by one, - In the open hand of Troilus, and his last attempt was done. - All had failed, and heavy-hearted from that chamber forth he - went, - While his friend lay still and smiling in the fullness of - content; - For the fever now had left him, and 't was sweet to lie and - rest, - With no more a thorn to vex him in his smooth, untroubled - breast. - With a dreamy satisfaction he was thinking all the while - How those pretty shining pieces would increase the golden pile - In that chest of hoarded treasure that already held so much; - And he laid his hand upon them with a fond caressing touch. - But his thoughts began to wander, and his eyes were closing - soon, - In the drowsy heat and stillness of the summer afternoon. - - Then a dream was sent to bless him, as in quiet sleep he lay, - And it bore him in a vision to the country far away; - And he saw the holy city, where the saints and angels dwell; - Of its glory, of its beauty, mortal tongue can never tell. - There were palm-trees growing stately by the water, crystal - clear; - There was music ever swelling, sometimes far and sometimes near, - As it rose in mystic cadence from the hearts that overflowed - With the joy that reigns forever in their beautiful abode. - And the people of that city whom he met along the way - On the shining golden pavement, oh, how full of peace were they! - For he thought some heavenly vision shone forever in their - sight, - And he looked where they were gazing, but he only saw the light - As it flooded all with glory, and the air it seemed to fill; - But he saw not what they looked on, for his eyes were mortal - still. - Now among those lighted faces there were some he knew before, - Of the poor to whom so often he had closed his heart and door; - Such as in the heavenly city he had little thought to find, - For the sad and sick and needy had been never to his mind: - Of the rich were not so many, yet a few of these beside, - Who by deeds of love and mercy had their Master glorified. - And in perfect health and beauty, among all that bright array, - Was the woman he saw dying in the hospital that day. - - All along the road he travelled, to the left and to the right, - Rose the palaces they dwelt in, each a mansion of delight, - But all varying in their beauty, far away as eye could reach, - With a name in golden letters, high above the door of each. - And sweet faces smiled upon him, from the windows here and - there, - Gentle faces free forever from the shade of earthly care; - And he heard the happy voices of the children as they played - In the fair and peaceful gardens, where the roses never fade; - And the things he left behind him seemed so very poor and small, - That he wondered, in that glory, why men cared for them at all. - - But oh, wonder of all wonders, when he saw a name that shone - O'er a high and arching doorway, yes, a name that was his own! - Could it be his eyes deceived him? No, he read it o'er and - o'er; - "This," it said, "of Bishop Troilus is the home forevermore." - Oh the beauty of that palace, with such light and splendour - filled, - That he thought the clouds of sunset had been hewn its walls to - gild; - And the golden door stood open, he could catch a glimpse within - Of the vast illumined chambers where no foot had ever been. - He could only gaze bewildered, for the wonder was too great, - And the joy so poured upon him he could hardly bear the weight. - Then he took one step toward it, but a servant of the King - Who from far-off earth that morning had returned on busy wing, - And was bearing gifts and tokens from the scattered church - below, - Came and passed and stood before him, in the courtyard's golden - glow. - - Then he turned to his companions, for a few had gathered near, - And his words fell hard and heavy on the Bishop's listening - ear,-- - "We must cancel that inscription from the stone, and write - thereon - That Troilus hath this palace sold unto the Patriarch John, - And that thirty golden pieces were the price that he received." - Up then started Bishop Troilus, for his soul was sorely grieved, - And he tried to speak, but could not, and awoke in his dismay, - With his hand upon the money close beside him where he lay. - - Now the long bright day was over; as he saw the sun descend,-- - "Weary day," the Patriarch thought it; he was glad to see it - end. - He was walking in his garden where the freshening shadows lay, - And the flowers that drooped at noontime stood erect in beauty - gay; - But their brightness could not cheer him, and he bent his head - and sighed, - For he thought, with wondering sadness, that the Lord his prayer - denied, - - Then he heard a step behind him, and he looked; but who was - there, - Wild of look, like one who struggled with a pain he could not - bear? - Could it be the stately Bishop? Yes, but oh, how changed to - see! - And he said with tears and trembling, "O my brother, pray for - me!" - How the Patriarch's heart rebounded from the weight that on it - pressed, - At the change so deep and sudden, in those broken words - expressed! - How his cheek grew red with gladness, how it smoothed his - troubled brow! - "God forgive me if I doubted, all my prayers are answered now." - - "Come," he said, "my brother Troilus, sit beside me, tell me - all;" - And he led him, pale and helpless, to a seat beside the wall. - And there Troilus, clinging closely to that strong and helpful - hand, - Trusting in the heart that loved him and his thoughts could - understand, - Told the story of his vision to his awed and listening friend,-- - All that dream of light and glory, with its sad, unlooked-for - end: - But his voice, which trembled ever, wellnigh failed him when he - told - Of the horror of that waking, with his hand upon the gold; - When his eyes, long blind, were opened, and he saw the wreck - within, - And one fearful moment, showed him what his wasted life had - been. - "Now," he said, "my courage fails me when I think to mend my - ways. - I have wasted all God gave me,--mind, and strength, and length - of days,-- - And the gold I gave my soul for pulls me downward with its - weight; - Help me if you can, oh, help me! Say it is not yet too late." - And he looked with eyes beseeching at the Patriarch, who replied - With a smile that fell like sunshine on the faint heart by his - side,-- - - "What! too late for God's forgiveness, when He calls you to - repent? - 'T was to save you, not to lose you, that the blessed dream was - sent; - 'T is His help, not mine, my brother, you are needing, and you - know, - If we ask it, He will give it, for Himself has told us so. - And the prodigal returning shall be welcomed all the more - If the years were long and many since he left his Father's - door." - "But," said Troilus, "I am aged, and my manhood's strength is - past; - After such a life ungodly, can I hope for grace at last?" - "Never fear," the Patriarch answered, "there is joy in heaven - to-day, - And they ask not in their gladness if your hair be black or - gray." - - So then Troilus gathered courage, and that night, by deed and - word, - Gave himself and all his substance to the service of the Lord; - Yet in his own strength mistrusting, he implored his friend anew - With his daily prayer to aid him, and he promised so to do. - And the thirty golden pieces he returned to him again, - Yes, and other thirty with them, for the change was not in vain, - - Then he left the past behind him, and a better life began; - From that evening in the garden he became another man. - There was no more train about him when he walked the city - through, - For the priests who once attended now had better work to do; - And the ladies cared no longer from their balconies to lean, - When of worldly pomp and splendour there was nothing to be seen. - For the cross of many jewels on his bosom shone no more, - Having gone on works of mercy to increase his heavenly store. - But the poor and needy sought him; he was now their faithful - friend, - And they knew, whatever befell them, on his love they might - depend. - - So his closing days were happy, after years of sordid care, - For no gain can bring contentment till the poor have had their - share; - And he lightened many a burden, and he righted many a wrong, - And the wealth became a blessing that had been a curse so long; - And his secret hoard was scattered, and men said that he died - poor, - But he found great wealth in heaven at the end, we may be sure. - - - - - *The Crosses on the Wall* - - -This beautiful legend has for me a most peculiar interest, owing to the -circumstances under which I first heard it. It was taught to me by a -very dear young friend whom I had known and loved from his -infancy,--Piero, the only surviving child of Count Giuseppe Pasolini -Zanelli of Faenza. It was only last October--eight months ago--and we -were all staying together in the home of his beloved and still beautiful -grandmother, at Bassano, in the Veneto. It was the last evening that we -expected to pass together, and Pierino (we had never been able to give -up calling him by that childish diminutive) brought a book with him, a -collection of popular legends compiled by De Gubernatis, and said that -he had a story to read us. It was "The Crosses on the Wall," and it has -always seemed to me as though he read it on that particular evening to -prepare us for what was to come. For some months he had been not quite -so strong as usual, yet no one felt any particular apprehension, until -on the twenty-eighth of November he died, almost without warning. He was -twenty-two years old, of a very beautiful character,--so good that we -ought to have known he was not for us. - -With him two great and ancient families come to an end,--the -Pasolini-Zanelli of Faenza, and the Baroni-Semitecolo of Bassano: these -last are the only descendants of that Semitecolo who worked in mosaic at -Torcello. - - - *The Crosses on the Wall* - - *A Legend of Primiero* - - - Come, children, listen to what I tell, - For my words are wise to-day: - From Primiero among the hills - Was the legend brought away. - - And Primiero among the hills - Is a little world apart, - Where is much to love and much to learn, - If you have a willing heart. - - It lies on high, like a stranded ship, - From the parted wave of time; - Not far from the troubled world we know, - But the way is hard to climb. - - For the mountains rise and close it in, - With their walls of green and gray; - With crag and forest and smooth-worn cliff, - Where the clouds alone can stray. - - And when a house they have builded there, - If a blessing they would win, - Above the door do they write a prayer, - That Christ may dwell therein. - - And I think, throughout the ancient town, - On its steep ascending road, - In many a heart, in many a home, - Has He taken His abode. - - And when a burden is hard to bear-- - And such burdens come to all-- - They tell the story I 'm telling now, - Of the crosses on the wall. - - 'T is a pearl of wisdom, gathered far - In the dim and distant past; - But ever needed, but ever new, - As long as the world shall last. - - For never has been since earth was made, - And surely shall never be, - A man so happy or wise or great, - He might from the cross be free. - - The tale it is of a widow poor, - And by trouble sorely pressed; - Of how, through sorrow and many tears, - At the end her soul was blest. - - She had not been always poor and sad, - For her early years were bright, - With a happy home, and with parents kind, - And herself their hearts' delight! - - A mother's darling, a father's pride, - She was fair in form and face; - A sunny creature, a joy to all, - For her sweet and winning grace. - - Then, early married to one she loved, - She had still been shielded well; - For her he laboured, for her he thought, - And on her no burden fell. - - She worked, indeed; but what work was hers - Through the short and happy hours? - To pluck the fruit from her orchard trees, - Or to tend the garden flowers; - - To sit and spin, and to sing the while - In her porch with roses gay; - To spread the table with plenty piled, - And to watch the children play. - - Their home was a little nest of peace; - 'T was a mile beyond the town, - In that sheltered valley, green with woods, - Where the river murmurs down. - - And she never dreamed of change to come, - (Though a change must all expect,) - Till the blow, like lightning, on her fell, - And her happy life was wrecked. - - But who could have thought the man would die? - There were few so strong as he! - From his forest work they bore him home, - Struck dead by a falling tree. - - A petted child, and a wife beloved, - She had hardly sorrow known, - Till the strong, brave man was borne away, - And she faced the world alone. - - Alone, with a babe too young to speak, - And with other children five: - "Oh, why," she asked, "are the strong removed - And the feeble left alive?" - - But where is the good of asking - When our helpers disappear? - That question never was answered yet, - And it never will be, here. - - There was little time to sit and weep; - She must rise, and bear the strain; - Alone she stood, with the home to keep, - And the children's bread to gain. - - The best of herself had gone with him; - She had no more faith nor trust: - She could not bow to the Lord's decree, - For she felt it all unjust. - - The good Lord cares for a widow's need, - But on Him she did not call. - She laboured hard, and she fought with fate, - And they lived--but that was all. - - She fought her battle with fate, and failed, - As many have failed before; - If against the thorns we push and press, - They will only prick the more. - - She could not bear with the children now, - And she called them rude and wild; - Forgetting quite, in her sullen grief, - That she had been once a child. - - Yes, wild they were; and like all wild things - They were light and swift and strong; - And her poor, sick spirit turned away - From the gay, unruly throng. - - They swam the river, they climbed the trees, - They were full of life and play; - But oft, when their mother's voice they heard, - They hid from her sight away. - - They did not love her, and that she knew, - And of that she oft complained; - But not by threats nor by angry words - Could the children's love be gained. - - Respect and honour we may command; - They will come at duty's call: - But love, the beautiful thornless rose, - Grows wild, when it grows at all. - - And she grew bitter, as time went on, - Grew bitter and hard and sore. - Till one day she cried in her despair, - "I can bear my life no more! - - "Look down from Heaven, good Lord, and see - And pity my cruel fate! - Oh, come, and in mercy take away - My burden, for 't is too great! - - "My heart is breaking with all its load, - And I feel my life decline; - Never I think did the woman live - Who has borne a cross like mine!" - - To her cry for help an answer came, - And solemn it was, and strange! - For a silence deep around her fell, - And the place seemed all to change. - - She stood in a sad and sombre room, - Where from ceiling down to floor, - Along the wall and on every side, - There were crosses--nothing more. - - There were crosses old, and crosses new, - There were crosses large and small; - And in their midst there was One who stood - As the Master of them all. - - Before His presence her eyes dropped low, - And her wild complaining died; - For she knew the cross that He had borne - Was greater than all beside. - - And He bade her choose, and take away, - From among the many there, - Another cross, in exchange for hers, - That she found too great to bear. - - She looked for those that were least in size, - And she quickly lifted one; - But oh, 't was heavy, and pained her more - Than her own had ever done! - - She laid it back with a trembling hand-- - "And whose cross is that?" she cried; - "For heavier 't is than even mine!" - And a solemn voice replied: - - "That cross belongs to a maiden young, - But of youth she little knows; - For the days to her are days of pain, - And the night brings scant repose. - - "A helpless, suffering, useless thing! - And her pain will never cease, - Till death in pity will come one day, - And her troubles end in peace. - - "She never has walked the pleasant fields, - Nor has sat beneath the trees; - The hospital wall that shuts her in - Is the only world she sees. - - "She has no mother, she has no home, - And in strangers' hands she lies; - With none to care for her while she lives, - Nor weep for her when she dies." - - "But why is the cross so small, my Lord, - And why does her heart not break?" - "She counts it little," the answer came, - "For she bears it for my sake." - - The widow blushed with a sudden shame; - To her eyes the tears arose: - She dried them soon, and again she turned, - And another cross she chose. - - It fell from her hand against the wall, - And she let it there remain: - "That cross shall never be mine," she said, - "Though I take my own again! - - "And whose is this that I cannot hold? - For it seems to burn my hand! - And never, I think, was heart so strong - That could such a weight withstand." - - "The cross it is of a gentle wife, - And she wears it all unseen; - With early sorrow her hair is white, - But she keeps a smile serene. - - "She gave her heart to an evil man, - And she thought him good and true; - And long she trusted and long believed, - But at last the truth she knew. - - "She knows that his soul is stained with crime, - But the worst she still conceals; - Abuse and terror her sole reward, - And the Lord knows what she feels! - - "She cannot leave him, for love dies hard, - And her children bear his name; - But she prays for grace, to keep and guard - Their innocent lives from shame. - - "She trembles oft when his step she hears - On a lonely winter night; - And she hides her frightened babes afar - From their cruel father's sight. - - "And she dares not even hope for death, - Though his hand might set her free: - 'T were well for her in the grave to rest; - But where would the children be?" - - The widow shuddered, her face grew pale, - And she no more turned to look: - She reached her hand to the wall near by, - And a cross by chance she took. - - 'T was not so large as the first had been, - But it seemed a fearful weight! - "And whose am I holding now?" she asked, - For it did not look so great. - - "A mother's cross is the one you bear," - So the voice in answer said, - "And she once had children six like you; - But her children all are dead. - - "She has all besides that earth can give; - She has friends and wealth to spare, - And house and land--but she counts them not, - For the children are not there. - - "Time passes slowly, and she grows old; - But she may not yet depart. - In lonely splendour she counts the years, - With an empty, hungry heart. - - "And she knows by whom the cross was sent, - And she tries her head to bow; - But six green mounds by the churchyard wall - Are the most she cares for now." - - The widow thought of her own wild brood, - And she felt a creeping chill: - And, "Oh, give me back my cross!" she said, - "I will keep and bear it still. - - "Forgive me, Lord" (and with that she knelt, - And for very shame she wept). - "I know my sin, that I could not bow, - Nor Thy holy will accept. - - "Oh, give me patience, for life is hard; - And the daily strength I need! - And by Thy grace I will try to bear - The burden for me decreed. - - "I'll change my ways with the children now, - Though they give me added cares. - Poor babes! I know, if they love me not, - That the blame is mine, not theirs!" - - She kept her word as the weeks went on, - And she fought with fate no more: - 'T was now with a patient, humble heart - That her daily cross she bore. - - The children wondered to see her change - So greatly in look and speech! - She met them now with a smile so kind, - And a gentle word for each. - - And soon they learned, from her altered ways, - What her words had vainly taught; - Their love, that long she had claimed in vain, - Came back to her all unsought. - - There were merry shouts and dancing feet, - When the mother came in sight; - There were little arms around her thrown, - There were eyes with joy alight. - - With love for teacher, they learned to help, - There was work for fingers small: - Her heart grew soft like the earth in spring, - And she thanked the Lord for all! - - Her girls so pretty, her boys so brave, - And so helpful all and kind! - She wondered often, and thought with shame - Of how she had once repined. - - For in their presence she oft forgot - Her burden of want and care, - Forgot her trouble--forgot, almost, - That she had a cross to bear! - - - - - *Suora Marianna* - - - *Suora Marianna* - - - Little children, will you listen to a simple tale of mine, - That I learned at San Marcello, in the Tuscan Apennine, - From an aged, saintly woman, gone to heaven long ago? - It has helped me on my journey, and as yet you cannot know - Half the wisdom stored within it, nor the comfort it can give; - But still, try and not forget it! You will need it if you live, - And some day, when life is waning and your hands begin to tire, - You will think of Marianna, and her vision by the fire. - - In a convent, old and quiet, near a little country town, - On a chestnut-shaded hillside, to the river sloping down, - Dwelt a few of those good sisters who go out among the poor, - Who must labour late and early, and much weariness endure; - And the one who did in patience and in all good works excel - Was the Sister Marianna, she whose story now I tell. - - She was ever kind and willing, for each heavy task prepared: - No one ever thought to spare her, and herself she never spared. - All unpraised and all unnoticed, bearing burdens not her own, - Yet she lived as rich and happy as a queen upon her throne! - - She was rich, though few would think it; for God gave her grace - to choose, - Not the world's deceitful riches, but the wealth one cannot - lose. - There are many heap up treasure, but it is not every one - Who will take his treasure with him when his earthly life is - done. - - Was she beautiful? I know not. She had eyes of peaceful light, - And her face looked sweet and blooming in its frame of linen - white. - To the sick and heavy-hearted she was pleasant to behold, - And she seemed a heavenly vision to the feeble and the old. - She was happy when she wandered up the wandering mountain road, - Bearing food and warmth and blessing to some desolate abode, - Though the ice-cold winds were blowing and her woman's strength - was tried; - For she knew who walked there with her, in her heart and by her - side. - She was happy--oh, so happy!--in her little whitewashed cell - Looking out among the branches, where they gave her leave to - dwell - In her scanty hours of leisure; for there, looking from the - wall, - Were the dear and holy faces that she loved the best of all. - - 'T was an old and faded picture, poorly painted at the best, - Of Our Lord, the Holy Infant, in His Mother's arms at rest. - But her faith and loving fancy had a glory to it lent, - And the faces that she saw there were not what the artist meant - And the wooden shelf before it she would often-times adorn - With the buttercup and bluebell, and the wild rose from the - thorn, - Which she gathered, when returning, while the morning dew was - bright, - From some home, remote and lonely, where she watched the sick by - night. - So her life was full of sunshine, for in toiling for the Lord - She had found the hidden sweetness that in common things lies - stored: - He has strewn the earth with flowers, and each eye their - brightness sees; - But He filled their cups with honey, for His humble working - bees. - - But there came a time--poor sister!--when her rosy cheek grew - pale, - And her eyes, with all their sunlight, seemed to smile as - through a veil; - And her step was weak and heavy, as she trod the steep ascent, - Where through weeks of wintry weather to her loving work she - went. - 'T was a foot-path, lone and narrow, winding up among the trees, - And 't was hard to trace in winter, when the slippery ground - would freeze, - And the snow fall thick above it, hiding every sign and mark; - But she went that way so often she could climb it in the dark! - 'T was to nurse a poor young mother, by fierce malady assailed, - That she made the daily journey, and she never once had failed. - Now the short sharp days were over, and the spring had just - begun; - Every morn the light came sooner, and more strength was in the - sun. - - All around the grass was springing, and its tender verdure - spread, - Mid the empty burrs of chestnuts, and the old leaves, brown and - dead, - Low and small, but creeping, creeping till it almost touched the - edge - Of the daily lessening snow-drifts, under rock or thorny hedge. - From the wreck of last year's autumn life awakened, strong and - new, - And the buds were crowding upward, though as yet the flowers - were few. - - Many nights had she been watching, and with little rest by day, - For her heart was in the chamber where that helpless woman lay; - There the flame of life she cherished, when it almost ceased to - burn, - Praying God to help and keep them till the husband should - return. - - 'T was the old and common story, such as all of us can hear, - If we care to, in the mountains, every day throughout the year! - She who languished, weak and wasting, in the garret chamber - there, - Had been once as strong and happy as the wild birds in the air. - She had been a country beauty, for the boys to serenade; - And the poets sang about her, in the simple rhymes they made, - And with glowing words compared her to the lilies as they grew, - Or to stars, or budding roses, as their manner is to do. - Then the man who played at weddings with his ancient violin, - With his sad, impassioned singing, had contrived her heart to - win; - And one brilliant April morning he had brought her home, a - bride, - To his farm and low-built cottage on the mountain's terraced - side. - 'T was a poor, rough home to look at, and from neighbours far - away, - But with love and health and music there was much to make it - gay. - They were happy, careless people, and they thought not to - complain, - Though the door were cracked and broken, or the roof let in the - rain: - They could pile the fire with branches, while the winter storms - swept by; - - For the rest, their life was mostly out beneath the open sky. - Time had come, and brought its changes,--sunshine first, and - then the shade, - Frost untimely, chestnuts blighted. Sickness came, and debts - were made; - Fields were sold, alas, to pay them; yet their troubles did not - cease, - And the poor man's heart was troubled thus to see his land - decrease! - Fields were gone, and bread was wanting, for there now were - children small; - Much he loved them, much he laboured--but he could not feed them - all. - - So he left them, heavy-hearted, and his fortune went to try - In the low Maremma country, where men gain or where they die, - With its soft and treacherous beauty, with its fever-laden air; - But as yet the fever spared him, and they hoped it yet would - spare. - 'T was a long and cruel winter in the home he left behind: - Lonely felt the house without him, and the young wife moped and - pined: - Still her children's love sustained her, till this sickness laid - her low; - When good Sister Marianna came to nurse her, as you know. - - Week on week had hope been waning, as more feeble still she - grew: - Marianna tried, but vainly, every simple cure she knew. - Then the doctor gave up hoping, and his long attendance ceased: - "I can do no more," he told her; "you had better call the - priest. - To her husband I have written; he will have the news to-day: - If he cares again to see her, he had best be on his way!" - - Now the priest has done his office; at the open door he stands, - And he says to Marianna: "I can leave her in your hands,-- - I have other work that calls me; if to-night she chance to die, - You can say the prayers, good sister, for her soul as well as - I." - - So they left her, all unaided, in the house forlorn and sad, - Still to watch and think and labour with what failing strength - she had. - There was none to share her burden, none to speak to, none to - see-- - Save a helpful boy of seven, and a restless one of three, - And their little dark-eyed sister (she was five, and came - between), - And a baby, born that winter, which the father had not seen. - - Two days more! Her friend lay sleeping, and she watched beside - the bed: - In her arms she rocked the baby, while the Latin prayers she - said,-- - Prayers to help a soul departing;--yet she never quite - despaired! - Might not yet the Lord have pity, and that mother's life be - spared? - 'T was so hard to see her going--such a mother, kind and dear! - There was ne'er another like her in the country, far or near! - (So thought Sister Marianna.) Yet to murmur were a sin. - But her tears kept rising, rising, though she tried to hold them - in, - Till one fell and lay there shining, on the head that she - caressed, - Small and pretty, dark and downy, lying warm against her breast, - She was silent; something moved her that had neither place nor - part - In the grave and stately cadence of the prayers she knew by - heart. - Then she spoke, with eyes dilated, with her soul in every word, - As to one she saw before her--"Thou hast been a child, my Lord! - Thou hast lain as small and speechless as this infant on my - knees; - Thou hast stretched toward Thy Mother little helpless hands like - these: - Thou hast known the wants of children, then-- Oh, listen to my - plea, - For one moment, Lord, remember what Thy Mother was to Thee! - Think, when all was dark around Thee how her love did Thee - enfold; - How she tended, how she watched Thee; how she wrapped Thee from - the cold! - How her gentle heart was beating, on that night of tears and - strife, - When the cruel guards pursued Thee, when King Herod sought Thy - life! - How her arms enclosed and hid Thee, through that midnight - journey wild! - Oh, for love of Thine own Mother, save the mother of this - child!" - - Now she paused and waited breathless; for she seemed to know and - feel - That the Lord was there, and listened to her passionate appeal. - Then she bowed her head, all trembling; but a light was in her - eye, - For her soul had heard the answer: that young mother would not - die! - Yes, the prayer of faith had saved her! And a change began that - day: - When she woke her breath was easy, and the pain had passed away. - So the day that dawned so sadly had a bright and hopeful close, - And a solemn, sweet thanksgiving from the sister's heart arose. - - Now the night had closed around them, and a lonesome night it - seemed! - For the sky was black and starless, and for hours the rain had - streamed: - And the wind and rain together made a wild and mournful din, - As they beat on door and window, madly struggling to come in. - - Marianna, faint and weary with the strain of many days, - On the broad stone hearth was kneeling, while she set the fire - ablaze, - For the poor lone soul she cared for would, ere morning, need to - eat. - "Now, God help me," said the sister, "this night's labour to - complete!" - 'T was a meal she knew would please her, which she lovingly - prepared, - Of that best and chosen portion, from the convent table spared, - Which she brought, as was her habit, with much other needed - store, - In the worn old willow basket, standing near her on the floor. - - On her work was much depending, so she planned to do her best; - And she set the earthen pitcher on the coals as in a nest, - With the embers laid around it; then she thought again, and cast - On the pile a few gray ashes, that it might not boil too fast. - But the touch of sleep was on her, she was dreaming while she - planned, - And the wooden spoon kept falling from her limp and listless - hand. - Then she roused her, struggling bravely with this languor, which - she viewed - As a snare, a sore temptation, to be fought with and subdued. - But another fear assailed her--what if she should faint or fall? - And to-night the storm-swept cottage seems so far away from all! - How the fitful wind is moaning! And between the gusts that - blow, - She can hear the torrent roaring, in the deep ravine below. - - And her head is aching strangely, as it never did before: - "Good Lord, help me!" she is saying: "this can last but little - more! - O my blessed Lord and Master, only help me through the night-- - Only keep my eyes from closing till they see the morning light! - For that mother and that baby do so weak and helpless lie, - And with only me to serve them,--if I leave them, they may die! - She is better--yes, I know it, but a touch may turn the scale. - I can send for help to-morrow, but to-night I must not fail!" - 'T was in vain; for sleep had conquered, and the words she tried - to say - First became a drowsy murmur, then grew faint and died away. - And she slept as sleep the weary, heedless how the night went - on, - With her pitcher all untended, with her labour all undone; - On the wall her head reclining, in the chimney's empty space, - While the firelight flared and flickered on her pale and - peaceful face. - Was her humble prayer unanswered? Oh, the Lord has many a way - That His children little think of, to send answers when they - pray! - It was long she sat there sleeping--do you think her work was - spoiled? - No, the fir-wood fire kept burning, and the pitcher gently - boiled: - Ne'er a taint of smoke had touched it, nor one precious drop - been spilt; - When she moved and looked around her, with a sudden sense of - guilt. - But her eyes, when first they opened, saw a vision, strange and - sweet, - For a little Child was standing on the hearth-stone at her feet. - And He seemed no earthly infant, for His robe was like the snow, - And a glory shone about Him that was not the firelight glow. - And Himself her work was doing! For He kept the fire alive, - And He watched the earthen pitcher, that no danger might arrive - To the simple meal, now ready, with the coals around it piled; - Then He turned His face toward her, and she knew the Holy Child. - 'T was her Lord who stood before her! And she did not shrink - nor start-- - There was more of joy than wonder in her all-believing heart. - When her willing hands were weary, when her patient eyes were - closed, - He had finished all she failed in, He had watched while she - reposed. - Do you ask of His appearance? Human words are weak and cold; - 'T is enough to say she knew Him--that is all she ever told. - Yes, as you and I will know Him when that happy day shall come, - When, if we on earth have loved Him, He will bid us welcome - home! - But with that one look He left her, and the vision all had - passed, - (Though the peace it left within her to her dying hour would - last!) - Storm had ceased, and wind was silent, there was no more sound - of rain, - And the morning star was shining through the window's broken - pane. - - Later, when the sun was rising, Marianna looked to see, - O'er the stretch of rain-washed country, what the day was like - to be, - While the door she softly opened, letting in the morning breeze, - As it shook the drops by thousands from the wet and shining - trees. - And she saw the sky like crystal, for the clouds had rolled - away, - Though they lay along the valleys, in their folds of misty grey, - Or to mountain sides were clinging, tattered relics of the - storm. - And among the trees below her she could see a moving form; - 'T was the husband home returning, yes, thank God! he came at - last: - There was no one else would hasten up that mountain road so - fast. - Now the drooping boughs concealed him, now he came in sight - again; - All night long had he been walking in the darkness, in the rain; - Through the miles of ghostly forest, through the villages - asleep, - He had borne his burden bravely, till he reached that hillside - steep; - And as yet he seemed not weary, for his springing step was - light, - But his face looked worn and haggard with the anguish of the - night. - Now his limbs began to tremble, and he walked with laboured - breath, - For he saw his home before him, should he find there life or - death? - How his heart grew faint within him as he neared the wished-for - place! - One step more, his feet had gained it, they were standing face - to face. - "God has helped us!" was her answer to the question in his eye; - And her smile of comfort told him that the danger had gone by. - - It was morning now, fair morning! and the broken sunlight fell - Through the boughs that crossed above her, where the buds began - to swell, - As adown the sloping pathway, that her feet so oft had pressed, - Went the Sister Marianna to her convent home to rest. - It was spring that breathed around her, for the winter strove no - more, - And the snowdrifts all had vanished with the rain the night - before. - Now a bee would flit beside her, as she lightly moved along; - Or a bird among the branches tried a few low notes of song. - But her heart had music sweeter than the bird-notes in her ears! - She was leaving joy behind her in that home of many tears: - Hope was there, and health returning; there were happy voice and - smile, - For the father at his coming had brought plenty for a while. - And she knew with whom she left them, for herself His care had - proved, - When her mortal eyes were opened, and she saw the face she - loved, - On that night of storm and trouble, when to help her He had - come, - As He helped His own dear Mother in their humble earthly home. - - As she went the day grew warmer; sweeter came the wild bird's - call; - Then, what made her start and linger? 'T was a perfume, that - was all: - Faint, but yet enough to tell her that the violets were in - bloom; - And she turned aside to seek them, for that picture in her room. - - - - - *The Lupins* - - -The simple story of "The Lupins" is very commonly known among the -country people, who often quote it as a remedy for discontent. - - - *The Lupins* - - - 'T was a day in late November, - When the fruits were gathered in; - Day to dream in, and remember - All the beauty that had been. - - Peacefully the year was dying; - Soft the air, and deep the blue; - Brown and bare the fields were lying, - Where the summer harvest grew. - - Autumn flowers had bloomed and seeded; - Yet a few of humblest kind, - Waiting till they most were needed, - Brought the pleasant days to mind. - - Here and there a red-tipped daisy - Still its small bright face would show; - While above the distance hazy - Rose the mountains, white with snow. - - With a light subdued and tender, - Shone the sun on vale and hill, - Where the faded autumn splendour - Left a sober sweetness still. - - By a road that wandered, winding, - Far among the hills away, - Walked a man, despondent, finding - Little comfort in the day. - - Pale of tint and fine of feature, - Formed with less of strength than grace, - Seldom went a sadder creature, - Seeking work from place to place. - - He from noble race descended, - Heir to wealth and honoured name, - Who had oft the poor befriended - When about his door they came, - - By a brother's evil doing - Had to poverty been brought: - Now his listless way pursuing, - Ever on the past he thought. - - He, to hope no longer clinging, - Drifted, led he knew not where, - By a sound of far-off singing - Floating in the dreamy air,-- - - Many voices sweetly blending, - Sounding o'er the hills remote, - Every verse the same, and ending - In one plaintive, long-drawn note. - - "Olive gatherers, I know them, - Singing songs from tree to tree; - If the road will lead me to them, - There are food and work for me." - - He a humble meal was making, - While he warmed him in the sun; - From his pocket slowly taking - Yellow lupins, one by one. - - Most forlorn he felt and lonely, - While he ate them on the way; - For those lupins, and they only, - Were his food for all the day. - - Since to shame his brother brought him, - Want had often pressed him sore; - Yet misfortune never brought him - Quite so low as this before! - - "If my lot be hard and painful, - There 's one comfort still for me;" - (Said he, with a smile disdainful,) - "Poorer, I can never be. - - "There's no lower step to stand on, - No more burning shame to feel: - Not a crust to lay my hand on, - Only lupins for a meal!" - - He could see the laden table - Where his parents used to dine: - Well for them who were not able - Then the future to divine. - - Oh, but he was glad God took them - Ere they saw him fall so low: - How their cherished hope forsook them, - They had never lived to know. - - "I, so dearly loved and cared for, - I, on whom such hopes were built, - Whom such blessings were prepared for-- - Ruined by a brother's guilt!" - - Now he wrung his hands despairing, - Stamped his foot upon the ground; - Bitter thoughts his heart were tearing,-- - When he heard a footstep sound. - - Then he started, sobered quickly, - Took an attitude sedate, - With that terror, faint and sickly, - Which he often felt of late. - - What if some old friend should find him? - But he turned, the story tells, - And he saw a man behind him, - Picking up the lupin shells; - - Picking up the shells and eating - What the other cast away. - Now abashed, their eyes were meeting: - 'T was a beggar, worn and gray, - - Hollow-eyed and thin and wasted; - By his look you might suppose, - He had ne'er a morsel tasted - Since the sun that morning rose. - - Stood the younger man astonished, - And no more bewailed his fate; - Only bowed his head, admonished - By the sight of want so great. - - Then he said: "Come here, my brother, - And the lupins we will share; - Maybe, if we help each other, - God will have us in His care." - - "Thank the Lord! and you, kind master! - May He help you in your need; - Save your soul from all disaster - And remember your good deed!" - - Said the beggar, smiling brightly. - And the other thus replied,-- - Now content, and walking lightly - By his poorer neighbour's side,-- - - "Friend, you have a blessing brought me. - And I thank you in my turn, - For a lesson you have taught me - Which I needed much to learn. - - "And henceforth will I endeavour - Not to pine for fortune high, - But remember there is ever - Some one lower down than I. - - "But alas, when I was younger, - Wealth and honoured state were mine; - Shame, my friend, is worse than hunger: - 'T is for this that I repine." - - Then the beggar rose up stately, - Looked the other in the face, - Saying (for he wondered greatly), - "Poverty is no disgrace; - - "For our Lord, I think, was poorer - Once than you or even I, - And His poor of Heaven are surer - Than the rich who pass them by." - - So the two went on together, - Casting on the Lord their care, - Happy in the balmy weather, - Happy in their simple fare. - - Now an ancient olive o'er them - Threw its slender lines of shade, - Bending low its boughs before them, - Silver-leafed that cannot fade; - - Bearing fruit in winter season, - Still through every change the same: - Tree of peace--they had good reason - Who have called it by that name! - - And with that the story leaves them; - You can end it as you please: - Gain that cheers, or loss that grieves them, - Life of toil, or life of ease. - - Did some fortune unexpected - Give to one his wealth again? - Or did both, forlorn, neglected, - End their days in want and pain? - - Many years have they been dwelling - Where such trifles of the way - Are not counted worth the telling! - Both are with the Lord to-day. - - He in whom their souls confided - Did for both a home prepare; - Yet that humble meal divided - Gives a blessing even there. - - - - - *The Silver Cross* - - -The story of "St. Caterina of Siena and her Silver Cross" is one of her -many visions, recorded by her confessor. - - - *The Silver Cross* - - - Through the streets of old Siena, at the dawning of the day, - Went the holy Caterina, as the bells began to sound; - With the light of peace celestial in her eyes of olive gray, - For her soul was with the angels, while her feet were on the - ground. - - She was fair as any lily, with as delicate a grace; - And the air of early morning had just tinged her cheek with - rose: - Yet one hardly thought of beauty in that pale, illumined face, - That the souls in trouble turned to, finding comfort and repose. - - And the men their heads uncovered, though they dared not speak - her praise, - When they saw her like a vision down the row street descend; - And they wondered what she looked at, with that far-off dreamy - gaze, - While her lips were often moving, as though talking to a friend. - - There were few abroad so early, and she scarcely heard a sound, - Save the cooing of the pigeons, as about her feet they strayed, - Or the bell that sweetly called her to the church where she was - bound; - While the palaces around her stood in silence and in shade. - - And the towers built for warfare rose about her, dark and proud, - But their summits caught a glory, as the morning onward came, - And the summer sky beyond them was alight with fleecy cloud, - Where the gray of dawn was changing, first to rose and then to - flame. - - By a shrine of the Madonna, at a corner where she passed, - Stood a stranger leaning on it, as though weary and forlorn, - With a bundle slung behind him and a cloak about him cast; - For he shivered in the freshness of the pleasant summer morn. - - Said the stranger, "Will you help me?" and she looked on him and - knew, - By his hand that trembled feebly as he held it out for aid, - By his eyes that were so heavy, and his lips of ashen hue, - That the terrible Maremma had its curse upon him laid. - - So she listened to his story, that was pitiful to hear, - Of a widowed mother waiting on the mountain for her son; - How to help her he had laboured till the summer time drew near, - And of how the fever took him just before his work was done. - - He was young and he was hopeful, and the smile began to come - In his eyes, as though they thanked her for the pity she - bestowed, - And he said: "I shall recover if I reach my mountain home, - And if some good Christian people will but help me on the road. - - "For I go to Casentino, where the air is pure and fine, - But my strength too often fails me, and the place is far away; - So I pray you give me something, for a little bread and wine, - That I may not set out fasting on my weary walk to-day." - - Then a certain faint confusion with her pity seemed to blend, - And her face, so sweet and saintly, showed the shadow of a - cloud, - As she said: "I am no lady, though you call me so, my friend, - But a poor Domenicana who to poverty am vowed. - - "I can give a prayer to help you on your journey, nothing more, - For these garments I am wearing are the sisterhood's, not mine, - And the very bread they gave me when I left the convent door - To a beggar by the wayside I this morning did consign. - - "I would give you all you ask for if I had it to command." - Then she sighed and would have left him, but the stranger made - her stay, - For he held her by the mantle, with his cold and wasted hand: - "For the love of Christ, my lady, do not send me thus away!" - - He had used the name unthinking, but it moved her none the less, - And she turned again toward him, with a softened, solemn air, - While her hand began to wander up and down her simple dress, - As though vaguely it were seeking for some trifle she could - spare. - - Then the rosary she lifted that was hanging at her waist, - And its silver cross unfastened, which was small and very old, - With the edges worn and rounded and the image half effaced, - Yet she loved it more than lady ever loved a cross of gold. - - It had been her life companion, in the tempest, in the calm; - She had held it to her bosom when she prayed with troubled mind; - And she kissed it very gently, as she laid it in his palm, - "For the love of Christ, then, take it; 'tis the only thing I - find." - - So he thanked her and departed, and she thought of him no more, - Save to ask the Lord to help him, when that day in church she - prayed; - But the cross of Caterina on his heart the stranger wore, - And her presence unforgotten like a blessing with him stayed. - - Now the city life is stirring, and the streets are in the sun, - And the bells ring out their music o'er the busy town again, - As the people slowly scatter from the church where Mass is done; - But the blessed Caterina in her seat did still remain. - - For the sleep divine was on her, which so often to her came, - When of mortal life the shadow from around her seemed to fall; - And she looked on things celestial with her happy soul aflame: - But that day the dream that held her was the sweetest of them - all. - - For the Lord appeared in glory, and he seemed to her to stand - In a chamber filled with treasures such as eye had never seen; - And a cross of wondrous beauty He was holding in His hand, - Set with every stone most precious and with pearls of light - serene. - - And He told her that those treasures were the presents He - received - From the souls on earth who love Him, and are seeking Him to - please. - Were they deeds of noble service? that was what she first - believed, - And she thought, "What happy people who can bring Him gifts like - these!" - - For herself could offer nothing, and she sighed to think how far - From the best she ever gave him were the gems in that bright - store. - But He held the cross toward her, that was shining like a star, - And He bade her look and tell Him had she seen it e'er before. - - "No," she answered humbly, "never did my eyes the like behold." - But a flood of sudden sweetness came upon her like a wave, - For she saw among the jewels and the work of beaten gold - Was the little Cross of Silver that for love of Christ she gave. - - And I think her dream that morning was a message from above, - That a proof of deepest meaning we might learn and understand,-- - Though our very best be worthless that we give for Jesus' love, - It will change and turn to glory when He takes it in His hand. - - - - - *The Tears of Repentance* - - -THE TEARS OF REPENTANCE I found in a book called _Maraviglie di Dio ne' -Suoi Santi_, by the Jesuit Father, Padre Carlo Gregorio Rosignoli, -printed at Bologna in 1696. He says it was written originally by -Theophilus Raynaudus. - - - *The Tears of Repentance* - - _PART FIRST_ - - *THE MOUNTAIN* - - - A wild, sad story I tell to-day, - And I pray you to listen all! - You cannot think how my heart is moved - As the legend I recall,-- - - The legend that made me weep so oft, - When I was a child like you! - I tell it now, in my life's decline, - And it brings the tears anew. - - It came to us down through ages long; - For this story had its scene - In the far-away, gorgeous, stormy days - Of the empire Byzantine. - - And it tells of a famous mountain chief, - A terrible, fierce brigand, - Who ravaged the country, far and wide, - At the head of an armed band. - - So hard of heart was this evil man - That he spared not young nor old: - He killed and plundered, and burned and spoiled, - In his maddening thirst for gold; - - Would come with a swoop on a merchant troop, - That peacefully went its way, - And the counted gains of a journey long - Were scattered in one short day! - - He knew no pity, he owned no law, - Nor human, nor yet divine; - Would take the gold from a Prince's chest, - Or the lamp from a wayside shrine. - - In hidden valley, in wild ravine, - On desolate, heath-grown hill, - He buried his treasure away from sight, - And most of it lies there still. - - And none were free in that land to dwell, - Except they a tribute paid; - For the robber chief, who was more than king, - Had this burden on them laid. - - If any dared to resist the claim, - He was met with vengeance dire; - His lands were wasted before the dawn, - And his harvest burned with fire. - - And some day maybe himself was slain, - And left in the road to lie; - To fill with terror the quaking heart - Of the next who journeyed by. - - And many fled to the towns afar, - And their fields were left untilled; - While want and trouble and trembling fear - Had the stricken country filled. - - High up on a mountain's pathless side - Had the robber made his den, - In a rocky cave, where he reigned supreme - Over twenty lawless men. - - A price had long on his head been set, - But for that he little cared; - For few were they who could climb the way, - And fewer were those who dared. - - For those who hunted him long before - Had a fearful story brought: - They were not men on the mountain side, - But demons who with them fought! - - For horrible forms arose, they said, - As if from the earth they grew; - And rolled down rocks from the cliffs above - On any who might pursue. - - From town to town and from land to land, - Had his evil fame been spread; - And voices lowered and lips grew grave - When the hated name they said. - - The people's heart had grown faint with fear, - And they thought no hope remained; - But hope again on their vision dawned, - When the Emperor's ear they gained. - - Mauritius reigned o'er the nations then; - He was great in warlike fame, - And he was not one to shrink or quake - At a mountain bandit's name. - - He sent a band of a hundred strong - For the troubled land's release, - To kill the man and his bloody crew, - And to give the country peace. - - For what was a robber chief to him? - He had conquered mighty kings; - He gave the order, and then 't was done, - And he thought of other things. - - But few, alas, of that troop returned, - And they told a ghostly tale; - And women wept, and the strongest men, - As they heard, grew mute and pale. - - Those soldiers oft in the war had been, - And they counted danger light; - From mortal foe had they never turned, - But with demons who could fight? - - The Emperor silent was and grave, - For his thoughts were deep and wise; - He saw that the robber chief was one - Whom he could not well despise. - - There might be reason in what they said, - That the demons gave him aid, - And earthly weapon would ne'er be found - That could make such foes afraid. - - But yet they will flee from sacred things, - And the martyred saints, he knew, - Have holy virtue, that to them clings, - That can all their spells undo. - - But how could such weapon reach the soul - That for years had owned their sway? - A question grave that he pondered long; - But at length he found a way. - - A reliquary he made prepare; - It was all of finest gold: - For as monarch might with monarch treat, - He would serve this bandit bold. - - The gold was his, but the work he gave - To the skilled and patient hand - Of an artist monk, who counted then - For the first in all the land. - - Now see him close to his labour bent, - In a cell remote and high, - Where all he saw of the world without - Was a square of roof and sky. - - A holy man was this artist monk, - And for gain he did not ask, - If only the Lord his work would bless, - For his heart was in the task. - - And day by day from his touch came forth - The image of holy things; - The cross was there, and the clustered vine, - And the dove with outspread wings,-- - - The dove that bore in her golden beak - The olive in sign of peace, - And still, as he wrought, his hand kept time - To the prayer that would not cease! - - For pity stirred in him when he thought - Of that dark and stormy breast, - So hard, so hopeless, from God so far, - Where the little shrine would rest. - - And perhaps if angels were looking on, - (And I doubt not some were there!) - They saw that the work was sown with pearls, - And each pearl a burning prayer. - - So weeks went on, and the shrine was done, - And within it, sealed and closed, - Were holy relics of martyred saints - Who near in the church reposed. - - And trusted messengers bore it forth - To the distant mountain land; - With such a weapon they need not fear; - They could meet the famed brigand. - - 'T was winter now on the mountain-side, - And the way was long and hard, - As the faithful envoys upward toiled - In their bandit escort's guard,-- - - Toiled up to a grove of ancient firs, - For that was the place designed, - Where, after parley and long delay, - Had the meeting been combined. - - No sound but their feet that crushed the snow, - And the world looked sad and dead; - They thought of lives on the mountain lost, - And it was not much they said. - - The sun, as it shone with slanting ray - Through the stripped and silent trees, - Could melt but little the clinging ice - Which to-night again would freeze. - - They reached the grove, and the chief was there, - Like a king in savage state; - Erect and fearless, above them all, - While his men around him wait. - - He stood before them like what he was, - A terrible beast of prey; - But even tigers have something grand, - And he looked as grand as they. - - But, oh, the look that he on them turned! - It was fearful to behold; - It chilled their hearts, but they did not shrink, - For their faith had made them bold. - - And looking straight in those gloomy eyes, - With their hard and cruel glare, - "We come," said one, "in the Emperor's name, - And from him a token bear." - - Then said the chief, with a mocking smile, - "And what may my Lord command?" - And made a sign with his evil eye, - For the men on guard to stand. - - No faith had he in a tale so wild, - And he somewhat feared a snare; - There might be others in hiding near, - But he did not greatly care. - - Then forth came he who the relics bore,-- - 'T was a prudent man and brave,-- - And into the hand that all men feared, - He the holy token gave. - - "This gift to you has the Emperor sent, - In token of his good will," - He said; and at first the fierce brigand - Stood in wonder, hushed and still. - - What felt he then as that holy thing - In his guilty hand he took? - What changed his face for a moment's time - To an almost human look? - - There lay the shrine in his open palm. - Yet he thought it could not be: - "For me?" he asked, but his voice was strange. - And again he said, "for me?" - - Three times the messenger told his tale, - And he said 't was all he knew; - The bandit looked at the wondrous work, - And he could not doubt 't was true. - - So over his neck the chain he hung, - The shrine on his bosom lay - With all its wealth of a thousand prayers; - And they were not cast away. - - Day followed day in the bandit's cave, - And a restless man was he; - A heart so hard and so proud as his - With the saints could ill agree. - - The holy relics that on it lay - Did a strange confusion make; - In all that most he had loved before, - He could no more pleasure take. - - A charm there was in the golden shrine - That had all his soul possessed; - He sat and looked at each sacred sign - With a dreamy sense of rest. - - 'T was not the gold that could soothe him thus, - And 't was not the work so fine: - 'T was the holy soul of the artist monk, - For it lived in every line. - - Like one who sleeps when the day begins, - And, before his slumbers end, - The morning light and the morning sounds - With his dreaming fancies blend; - - So now and then would his heart be stirred - By a feeling strange and new, - And thoughts he never had known before - In his mind unconscious grew. - - Till on a sudden his blinding pride, - Like a bubble, failed and broke; - With eyes wide open, the guilty man - From his life-long dream awoke. - - From graves forgotten his crimes came forth, - In his face they seemed to stare: - To all one day will such waking come; - God grant it be here, not there. - - Then wild remorse on his heart took hold, - And beneath its burning sting - He shrank from himself as one might shrink - From a venomous, hateful thing. - - For scenes of blood from the years gone by - Forever before him came; - He closed his eyes, and his face he hid, - But he saw them just the same. - - And in the horror he dared not pray, - For he felt his soul accurst, - And he feared to live, and he feared to die, - And he knew not which was worst. - - Yet far on high, and beyond his reach, - He could see a vision dim, - A far-off glory of peace and love; - But he felt 't was not for him. - - Awhile his trouble he hid from all, - For his will was iron strong, - But never was man, since man was made, - Who could bear such torment long, - - A strange, sick longing was growing up - In his spirit, day by day, - A longing for what he most had feared,-- - To let justice have her way; - - Until the will to a purpose grew, - To the Emperor's feet to fly, - To own his sin without prayer or plea, - And then give up all and die. - - And so one night, without sound or word, - Away in the dark he stole, - And all that he took for his journey long - Was the weight of a burdened soul. - - They waited long in that den of crime, - But they saw their chief no more; - Or dead or living, they found him not, - Though they searched the mountain o'er. - - And in the country, so long oppressed, - When his sudden flight was known, - They spoke of a wild and fearful night, - When the fiends had claimed their own. - - And soon the tale to a legend turned, - And men trembling used to tell - Of how they carried him, body and soul, - To the place where demons dwell. - - His men, so bold, were in mortal fear - Of what might themselves befall; - So some in a convent refuge sought, - And the rest were scattered all. - - And no one climbed to their empty cave, - For 't was called a haunted place, - Though soon the summer had swept away - Of its horror every trace, - - And mountain strawberries nestled low, - And delicate harebells hung, - In beauty meek, from its broken arch, - Where the swallows reared their young. - - But where had he gone, that man of woe? - Had he found the rest he sought? - In haste he went, but with noiseless tread, - As his bandit life had taught. - - And going downward he met the spring, - With its mingled sun and showers; - But storms of winter he bore within, - And he did not see the flowers. - - And how did he live from day to day, - And the ceaseless strain endure? - Kind hearts there are that can feel for all, - And the poor will help the poor. - - In frightened pity, a shepherd girl, - As she fled o'er the daisied grass, - Would let the bread from her apron fall - On the turf where he should pass; - - Or workmen, eating their noonday meal - On a bank beside the way, - Would give him food, but with outstretched arm, - And they asked him not to stay. - - He went like a shadow taken shape - From some vague and awful dream, - And word of comfort for him was none, - In his misery so extreme. - - Alas, from himself he could not flee, - Though he tried, poor haunted man; - And he reached the city beside the sea, - As the Holy Week began. - - - - _PART SECOND_ - - - 'T was Sunday morn, and a hundred bells - With their sweet and saintly sound - Were calling the people in to prayer - From the pleasant hills around,-- - - The morn when strivings should end in peace, - And each wrong forgotten be, - That Holy Week may its blessing shed - Upon souls from discord free. - - The streets were bright with a moving throng, - And before the palace gate, - With eager eyes and in garments gay, - Did a crowd expectant wait. - - For the Emperor goes in solemn state, - With his court, like all the rest, - To the church with many lamps ablaze, - Where to-day the palms are blest. - - And stately ladies and timid girls, - In their modest plain attire, - From curtained windows are looking down, - And the shifting scene admire. - - They come, they come, from the cool deep shade - Of the courtyard's marble arch,-- - The nobles all in their rich array, - And the guards with sounding march. - - And stay, the square is as still as death, - For the Emperor passes now; - The girls at the window hold their breath, - And the people bend and bow. - - But who is this that among them moves - With that quick and stately pace? - What see they all in his rigid look, - That they shrink and give him place? - - Too late the guards would have barred the way, - For he darted swiftly by, - As hunted creatures, when hard beset, - To man in their terror fly. - - And sinking low at the feet of him - He had come so far to see, - He waited silent with folded hands, - Nor asked what his fate should be. - - "Who are you, come in such deep distress, - And what is the grace you seek?" - The Emperor's voice was grave and kind, - And the stranger tried to speak. - - The golden casket he raised in sight, - While he bent his eyes for shame; - Then said he, "I am that wicked man," - And he told the dreaded name. - - A shudder fell upon all who heard, - But the people nearer drew; - From mouth to mouth, in a whisper low, - The name of the bandit flew. - - While he, uplifting those woful eyes, - In the boldness of despair, - With ne'er a thought of the crowd who heard, - His errand did thus declare: - - "I come not here to confess my sins, - For you know them all too well; - My crimes are many and black and great, - They are more than tongue can tell. - - "But here at your feet my life I lay, - I have nothing else to give; - So now, if it please you, speak the word, - For I am not fit to live." - - The words came straight from his broken heart - In such sad and simple style, - That the Emperor's firm, proud lips were moved - To a somewhat softened smile. - - For his warlike spirit felt the charm - Of that savage strength and grace, - And the strange fierce beauty that lingered still - In the dark and troubled face. - - So grand of form and so lithe of limb, - And still in his manhood's prime, - 'T would be a pity for one like him - To perish before his time. - - And 't was well to see him kneeling there, - Whose terror had filled the land, - Like a captive tiger, caught and tamed - By his own imperial hand. - - "Arise," he said, "you have nought to fear, - Take comfort and go your way, - And may God in heaven my sins forgive, - As I pardon yours to-day." - - A murmur rose from the crowded square, - At the sound of words like these; - For some rejoiced in the mercy shown, - And others it did not please. - - Some thanked the Lord for the pardoned man, - And some were to scorn inclined; - And motherly women wiped their eyes, - For the women's hearts are kind. - - "God bless our Emperor," many said; - But others began to frown. - And asked, "Will he turn this wild brigand - Adrift in our peaceful town?" - - No word of thanks did the bandit say, - But he raised one shining fold - Of the robe imperial, trailing low - With its weight of gems and gold. - - The border first to his lips he pressed, - And then to his heavy heart; - Then rose and waited with bended head, - Till he saw them all depart. - - No eye had he for the gorgeous train, - As along the square it passed; - One stately presence was all he knew, - And he watched it till the last. - - A heavy sigh, and he turned away, - But with slow and weary tread; - No rest as yet on the earth for him, - Not even among the dead. - - He lived, and he bore his burden still, - But the dumb despair had ceased: - That word of mercy had brought a change, - And he now had tears, at least; - - He now could pray, though it brought not light, - And he seemed to ask in vain, - And his prayer had more of tears than words, - But it helped him bear the pain. - - And oft in church did they see him kneel - In some corner all alone, - And weep till the great hot drops would fall - On the floor of varied stone. - - And children clung to their mothers' hand, - When they saw that vision wild,-- - That haggard face, and that wasting form, - And those lips that never smiled. - - But grief was wearing his life away, - And for him perhaps 't was well; - It was not long on the city street - That his saddening shadow fell. - - A fever slowly within him burned, - Till the springs of life were dry, - And glad he was when they laid him down - On a hospital bed to die. - - His heart was broken, his strength was gone, - He had no more wish to live; - He almost hoped that the Lord on high, - Like the Emperor, might forgive; - - That somewhere down in the peaceful earth - He should find a refuge yet, - A place to rest and his eyes to close, - And the woful past forget. - - He could not lie where the others lay, - For such gloom around him spread, - That soon in a chamber far away - Had they set his friendless bed. - - 'T was there he suffered and wept and prayed, - From the eyes of all concealed: - Alas! but it takes a weary time - For a life like his to yield. - - The grand old hospital where he died - Was beneath the watchful care - Of a certain doctor, famed afar - For his skill and learning rare. - - But more than learning and more than skill - Was his heart, so large and kind, - That knew the trouble and felt the needs - Of the sick who near him pined. - - With conscience pure had he served the Lord - From youth till his hair was grey, - Yet only pity he felt, not scorn, - For the many feet that stray. - - In troubled scenes had his life been passed; - He was used to woe and sin, - And when men suffered he did not ask - If their lives had blameless been. - - His part was but to relieve their pain, - And he helped and soothed and cheered; - But most he cared for the stricken man - Whom the others shunned and feared. - - Each art to save him he tried in vain, - And it could but useless prove, - For the poisoned thorn that pierced his heart - Could no earthly hand remove, - - When hope had failed, he would kneel and pray, - And his heart with tears outpour, - That God in mercy would comfort send - To that soul in torment sore. - - And though the burden he might not lift, - He could help its weight to bear; - He talked of mercy, of peace to come, - And he bade him not despair. - - And so, on the last sad night of all, - 'T was the brave, good doctor came - To watch alone by the bandit's side, - When he died of grief and shame. - - The spring to summer was wearing on, - 'T was the fairest night in May, - When sleep to those eyes in mercy came, - And the deadly strain gave way. - - No candle burned, for the moon was full, - And the peaceful splendour fell - Through the open window, lighting all: - It was like a kind farewell. - - And scents from the garden floated in, - And the silent fireflies came, - And breathed and vanished, and breathed again, - With their soft mysterious flame. - - The doctor watched with a heavy heart, - His head on his hand was bowed; - He thought how many his prayers had been, - But they could not lift the cloud. - - 'T was over now, there was nothing left - For his pitying love to do; - The worn-out body would rest at last, - But the guilty soul,--who knew? - - No more to do but to watch and wait - Till the failing breath should cease; - He longed, as the counted minutes flew, - For one parting smile of peace. - - He looked: a handkerchief veiled the eyes, - For they wept until the end, - And sadly still on the wasted cheek - Did a few slow drops descend. - - The peace that oft to the dying comes - Was to him as yet denied,-- - No sunset clear after stormy day, - And no brightening ere he died. - - "Alas! he will go away to-night, - And without one hopeful sign, - Away from pity, away from care, - And from such poor help as mine!" - - The doctor sighed, but he hoped as well, - For he said, "It cannot be - That the Lord, who died for all, will have - No mercy for such as he." - - 'T was then that sleep on the doctor fell, - And before him stood revealed, - In dreaming vision, a wondrous sight, - From his waking eyes concealed. - - For other watchers were in the room, - And he knew the ghastly throng - Of demon spirits, the very same - Whom the man had served so long. - - And two were leaning across the bed, - And another pressed behind, - And some in the shadow waiting stood, - With a chain his soul to bind. - - But angels watched by the bedside too; - 'T was a strange and solemn scene,-- - The angels here and the demons there, - And the dying man between. - - The angels looked with a troubled gaze - On the face consumed with grief, - And over the pillow bent and swayed, - As in haste to bring relief. - - And one on the bowed and burdened head - Did a hand in blessing lay, - And he said, "Poor soul, come home with us. - Where the tears are wiped away." - - "Not so," cried one of the demon troop, - "He is black with every sin; - And you may not touch our lawful prey - That we laboured years to win. - - "We bought his soul, and the price we paid, - And our part has well been done; - We helped him ever from crime to crime, - Till his buried wealth was won; - - "And we almost thought him one of us, - He had so well learned our ways; - So go, for we do but seek our own, - And be done with these delays." - - The angel said, "He has wept his sin, - As none ever wept before, - Has mourned till his very life gave way, - And what could a man do more? - - "And our Blessed Lord, who pities all, - And the sins of all has borne, - Will never His mercy turn away - From a heart so bruised and torn." - - "But how? and shall mercy be for him - Who has mercy never shown? - Can his sorrow bring the dead to life, - Or can tears for blood atone? - - "Is he to rest with the angels now, - Has he done with tears and pain? - To-morrow morn he will wish he lay - On the hospital bed again; - - "There is somewhat more to weep for down - In the place where he must stay!" - The demon looked at his fiendish mates; - And he laughed, and so did they. - - And they gathered close, like hungry wolves, - In their haste to rend and tear; - But they could not touch the helpless head - While that strong white hand was there. - - Then out of the shadow one came forth, - 'T was a demon great and tall; - An iron balance he held on high, - As he stood before them all. - - And fiercely he to the angels called, - "Do you dare to claim him still? - Then come, for the scales are in my hand, - We will weigh the good and ill." - - And into the nearest scale he threw, - As he spoke, a parchment roll, - With on it a note of every sin - That had stained the parting soul. - - 'T was closely written, without, within, - And the balance downward flew - And struck the ground with a blow, as though - It would break the pavement through. - - "He is ours forever," the demons said, - "If justice the world controls; - For sins so heavy do on him lie, - They would sink a hundred souls! - - "Come, hasten, angels, the time is short, - And words are of no avail; - Come, bring the note of your friend's good deeds, - To lay in the empty scale." - - The angels searched, but they searched in vain, - There was no good deed to bring; - In all that ever that hand had done, - They could find no worthy thing. - - A taunting shout from the demons broke, - And each hard malignant face - With joy and triumph was all aflame; - But the angels held their place, - - Though dimness fell like a passing cloud - On their pure and holy light; - And if ever angel eyes have tears, - There were some in theirs that night. - - But he who had been the first to speak, - With a glimmering hope possessed, - Still sought some good that would turn the scale, - Though it seemed a useless quest. - - He saw the handkerchief where it lay, - And he raised it off the bed, - All wet and clinging, and steeped in tears - That the dying eyes had shed. - - He turned around, but his face was pale, - As the last poor chance he tried; - He laid it down in the empty scale, - And he said, "Let God decide!" - - When, lo! it fell till it touched the earth, - And the demons stood dismayed; - It seemed so little and light a thing, - But it all his sins outweighed. - - But who shall ever the anger tell - Of that black and hateful band, - When most in triumph they felt secure, - The prey had escaped their hand. - - They stood one moment in speechless rage, - And then, with a fearful sound - Of shrieks and curses and rattling chains, - They vanished beneath the ground. - - Then holy peace on the chamber fell, - Till it flooded all the air; - The angels praised and they thanked the Lord, - Who so late had heard their prayer. - - And their clouded glory shone again, - With a clear celestial ray, - As the trembling soul, which that moment passed, - They bore in their arms away. - - Then through the room, as they took their flight, - Did a flood of music stream, - So loud, so sweet, and so close at hand, - That it waked him from his dream. - - He looked around; there was nothing stirred - In the empty, moonlit room, - Where a faint, sweet odour filled the air - From the orange-trees in bloom. - - And the notes divine he had thought to hear - Were only the liquid flow - Of a nightingale's song, that came up clear - From the garden just below. - - Then up from his seat the doctor rose, - And he stood beside the bed; - He knew, when he touched the quiet hand, - That the poor brigand was dead. - - The handkerchief on the pillow lay, - But its weary use was o'er, - And he raised it, heavy and wet with tears, - From the eyes that could weep no more. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN SERVANTS AND OTHER -VERY OLD STORIES *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47962 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so -the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. 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