"I ponder o'er the sacred word, "Who saw the tears of love he wept Then said I, - for I could not brook "Yet, sometimes glimpses on my sight, And, step by step, since time began, "That all of good the past hath had "Thou weariest of thy present state; "What thought Chorazin's scribes "How blessed the swineherd's low In Him had Nain and Nazareth? the gray A homeless, troubled age, Pride, lust of power and glory, slept; And, mateless, childless, envied more Until, in place of wife and child, THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. 155 Lord, what is man, whose thought, at | And, listening to its sound, the twain Seemed lapped in childhood's trust again. times, Up to thy sevenfold brightness climbs, So rich in words, in acts so mean; And Truth's clear sky, millenniumlit! Vain pride of star-lent genius!- vain Midst yearnings for a truer life, The love he sent forth void returned; The fame that crowned him scorched and burned, Burning, yet cold and drear and lone, A fire-mount in a frozen zone ! Like that the gray-haired sea-king passed, 54 Seen southward from his sleety mast, Far round the mournful beauty played A man apart, unknown, unloved By those whose wrongs his soul had moved, He bore the ban of Church and State, Forth from the city's noise and throng, To them the green fields and the wood The hermits from their simple cares The bell was calling home to prayers, "And, bright with wings of cherubim Visibly waving over him, . Seen through his life, the Church had seemed All that its old confessors dreamed. "I would have been," Jean Jaques replied, "The humblest servant at his side, "O, more than thrice-blest relic, more "Amidst a blinded world he saw And God was loved through love of man. "He lived the Truth which reconciled So speaking, through the twilight gray The two old pilgrims went their way. What seeds of life that day were sown, The heavenly watchers knew alone. Time passed, and Autumn came to fold Green Summer in her brown and gold; Time passed, and Winter's tears of snow Dropped on the grave-mound of Rous seau. "The tree remaineth where it fell, The pained on earth is pained in hell!" So priestcraft from its altars cursed The mournful doubts its falsehood nursed. Ah! well of old the Psalmist prayed, No Hermits now the wanderer sees, "Why wait to see in thy brief span tence Of spiritual pride and pampered sense, A voice saith, 'What is that to thee? Be true thyself, and follow Me!' "In days when throne and altar heard The wanton's wish, the bigot's word, And pomp of state and ritual show Scarce hid the loathsome death below, "Midst fawning priests and courtiers foul, The losel swarm of crown and cowl, White-robed walked François Fenelon, Stainless as Uriel in the sun! "Yet in his time the stake blazed red, The poor were eaten up like bread; Men knew him not: his garment's hem No healing virtue had for them. 66 MISCELLANEOUS. QUESTIONS OF LIFE. And the angel that was sent unto me, whose name was Uriel, gave me an answer and said, Thy heart hath gone too far in this world, and thinkest thou to comprehend the way of the Most High?" Then said I," Yea, my Lord." Then said he unto me, "Go thy way, weigh me the weight of the fire or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past."-2 Esdras, chap iv. A BENDING staff I would not break, And yet, at times, when over all I raise the questions, old and dark, I am how little more I know! |