Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/272
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THE ANGEL'S VISIT.
Huddles it blindly. I have little bread—
One loaf for many mouths; but He that fed
With five loaves and two fishes five thousand men,
Will not leave us to perish in this den."
One loaf for many mouths; but He that fed
With five loaves and two fishes five thousand men,
Will not leave us to perish in this den."
And with these Words he brought the loaf Which lay
Alone between thein and a slow decay;
All that might save them in that desert place,
From the white famine that makes blank the face;
And, breaking it, gave half to the old man.
Alone between thein and a slow decay;
All that might save them in that desert place,
From the white famine that makes blank the face;
And, breaking it, gave half to the old man.
Lo! ere the sharpest eye could difference scan
'Twixt light and dark, the pilgrim standing there
Vanished—and seemed to empty all the air
From earth to heaven. But the bread was left;
And Alfred, of his reason nigh bereft,
Rushed out, and stared across the leven fen.
No human shape was there, nor trace of men;
But smooth, and void, and dark,, burdening the eye,
The great blank marsh answered the great blank sky.
The ghostly bitterns clanged among the reeds,
And stirred, unseen, the ever-drowsy weeds
Of the morass; but all beside was dead—
And a dull stupor fell on Alfred's head.
'Twixt light and dark, the pilgrim standing there
Vanished—and seemed to empty all the air
From earth to heaven. But the bread was left;
And Alfred, of his reason nigh bereft,
Rushed out, and stared across the leven fen.
No human shape was there, nor trace of men;
But smooth, and void, and dark,, burdening the eye,
The great blank marsh answered the great blank sky.
The ghostly bitterns clanged among the reeds,
And stirred, unseen, the ever-drowsy weeds
Of the morass; but all beside was dead—
And a dull stupor fell on Alfred's head.
He stumbled to the house—and sleep was strong
And dark upon his eyelids; but, ere long,
An angel, with a face placid and bright,
Filled all the caverns of his brain with light.
"I am the pilgrim," said the shape. "I came
To try thy heart, and found it free from blame:
Wherefore I'll make thee great above thy foes,
And like a planet that still speeds and glows,
Dancing along the centuries for ever.
But thou must aid me with all hard endeavour;
And when thou hast regained thy crown and state,
Make them no object of a nation's bate.
Let men behold, within thy sheltering bower,
The tranquil aspects of benignant power—
Love armed with strength; and lop thou with firm hand,
That many-headed hunger in thy land.
Which casts its shadows on the golden walls
Of the too prosperous, feasting in their halls.
Make God thy God—not pleasure lightly flown;
And love thy people better than thy throne.
So shall all men forget their ravening maws,
Under the even music of thy laws."
And dark upon his eyelids; but, ere long,
An angel, with a face placid and bright,
Filled all the caverns of his brain with light.
"I am the pilgrim," said the shape. "I came
To try thy heart, and found it free from blame:
Wherefore I'll make thee great above thy foes,
And like a planet that still speeds and glows,
Dancing along the centuries for ever.
But thou must aid me with all hard endeavour;
And when thou hast regained thy crown and state,
Make them no object of a nation's bate.
Let men behold, within thy sheltering bower,
The tranquil aspects of benignant power—
Love armed with strength; and lop thou with firm hand,
That many-headed hunger in thy land.
Which casts its shadows on the golden walls
Of the too prosperous, feasting in their halls.
Make God thy God—not pleasure lightly flown;
And love thy people better than thy throne.
So shall all men forget their ravening maws,
Under the even music of thy laws."