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Çàðàç íà ñàéò³ - 4
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Pearl Poet

Ïðî÷èòàíèé : 329


Òâîð÷³ñòü | Á³îãðàô³ÿ | Êðèòèêà

Pearl - Modern Translation

(Translated  by  Bill  Stanton)

I
Pearl,  to  delight  a  prince's  day,
Flawlessly  set  in  gold  so  fair
In  all  the  East,  I  dare  to  say,
I  have  not  found  one  to  compare.
So  round,  so  radiant  in  array,
So  small,  so  smooth  her  contours  were,
Wherever  I  judged  jewels  gay
I  set  her  worth  as  truly  rare.
I  lost  her  in  a  garden  where
Through  grass  she  fell  to  earthen  plot;
Wounded  by  love  beyond  repair
I  mourn  that  pearl  without  a  spot.
Since  from  that  spot  it  fled  that  day
I  waited  oft,  in  hope  to  see
What  once  could  drive  my  gloom  away
And  charge  my  very  soul  with  glee;
But  heavy  on  my  heart  it  lay
And  filled  my  breast  with  misery.
Yet  no  song  ever  seemed  so  gay
As  that  quiet  hour  let  steal  to  me
Though  in  my  heart  one  thought  ran  free,
Her  fresh  face  wrapped  in  earthly  clot;
Earth,  you  have  marred  her  purity,
My  secret  pearl  without  a  spot.
That  spot  of  spices  needs  must  spread
Where  such  rich  bounty  doth  decay,
With  yellow  flowers  and  blue  and  red
That  shine  so  bright  in  sun's  clear  ray.
Flower  and  fruit  can  ne'er  be  dead
Where  that  pearl  slipped  into  the  clay,
For  grass  will  grow  from  seed  once  shed
Or  grain  could  not  be  stored  away,
And  good  will  always  good  repay.
This  comely  seed  shall  perish  not,
And  spices  will  their  fruit  display
From  that  dear  pearl  without  a  spot.
From  that  spot  I  in  speech  expound
I  entered  in  that  garden  green,
As  August's  season  came  around
When  corn  is  cut  with  sickles  keen,
There  that  pearl  rolled  into  the  ground,
Shadowed  with  plants  both  bright  and  clean,
Wallflower,  ginger,  gromwell  abound
Bright  peonies  scattered  in  between;
Though  they  were  seemly  to  be  seen
No  less  in  their  scent  my  sense  caught;
And  there  that  jewel  long  has  been,
My  precious  pearl  without  a  spot.

Before  that  spot  I  clasped  my  hand,
In  chilling  care  my  heart  was  caught;
A  bitter  grief  my  soul  unmanned
Though  reason  wiser  comfort  sought.
I  mourned  my  pearl  from  freedom  banned
With  arguments  that  fiercely  fought;
Though  Christ's  grace  bade  me  understand
My  wretched  will  fresh  sorrow  brought.
On  flowery  sward  I  fell,  distraught;
Such  fragrance  to  my  senses  shot
In  deepest  sleep  I  dreamt,  methought,
On  that  dear  pearl  without  a  spot.

II
That  spot  my  spirit  fled  apace
And  let  my  body  dreaming  lie.
My  soul  set  forth  in  God's  good  grace
To  range  where  marvels  multiply.
In  all  this  world  I  knew  no  place
Like  this,  where  such  cliffs  clove  the  sky.
Towards  the  woods  I  turned  my  face,
Where  splendid  rocks  I  could  descry.
None  could  believe  aught  could  supply
Such  gleaming  glory  to  the  sight;
No  fabric  that  men  weave  could  vie
With  all  that  glorious  splendour  bright
In  splendour  shone  those  downland  sides
Clear  did  those  cliffs  their  nature  show,
And,  bright  about  them,  woodland  rides
With  tree-trunks  blue  as  indigo;
Like  silver,  each  leave  open  slides
And  gently  flickers  to  and  fro;
When  broken  cloud  above  them  glides
With  shimmering  sheen  I  see  them  glow.
The  gravel  on  the  ground  below
Was  precious  pearls  of  Orient  light;
The  sunlight's  beams  could  scarcely  show
Against  that  glorious  splendour  bright.
The  splendour  of  those  bright  hills  there
My  spirit  freed  from  my  side  fate;
Refreshing  was  the  fragrance  clear
Of  fruits,  as  though  of  food  I  ate;
Birds  flew  in  all  the  woodland  near
Of  myriad  hue,  both  small  and  great,
Cytole  and  cithern  none  could  hear
To  match  a  sound  so  delicate;
The  notes  their  wing-beats  did  create
Made  sounds  of  such  sweet  delight
Such  charm  no  man  could  fabricate,
As  here  in  all  their  splendour  bright.
The  splendour  bright  of  that  display,
The  wood  where  fortune  smiled  on  me,
The  glory  thereof  to  portray
No  man  could  render  worthily.
I  wandered  joyful  on  my  way;
No  height  could  do  me  injury.
As  through  the  woods  my  footsteps  stray
Field,  shrub,  and  spice,  and  each  pear-tree,
Hedgerow  and  stream  and  banks  I  see
Like  gold  thread  shines  each  wooded  height;
I  came  to  a  streamlet  running  free;
Lord,  glorious  was  that  splendour  bright  !
The  splendour  of  the  water  deep
Was  lovely  banks  of  beryl  clear
And  sweetly  did  that  water  sweep,
Flowing  with  murmuring  sound  anear.
Its  depths  each  standing  stone  did  steep,
And,  as  through  glass,  bright  gleams  appear
As  streaming  stars,  when  mortals  sleep,
Sine  in  the  heavens  when  winter's  here;
Each  pebble  in  that  sparkling  mere,
Emerald  and  sapphire,  all  unite;
Its  glowing  radiance  without  peer,
So  dear  to  me  that  splendour  bright.

III
The  splendour  of  those  downs  and  dales,
Of  woods  and  water,  lovely  plains
Increased  my  joy,  soothed  my  travails,
Removed  all  stress,  destroyed  all  pains.
Beside  a  stream  that  never  fails
In  bliss  I  travel;  naught  restrains
My  onward  journey  through  those  vales;
The  greater  joy  my  heart  contains.
As  fortune  at  her  whim  constrains,
And  solace  sends,  or  trials  sore,
So  he  who  profits  from  these  gains
Desires  her  favours  more  and  more.
And  still  more  joy  came  in  a  trice
Than  I,  though  had  I  time,  could  say
For  earthly  heart  would  not  suffice
One  tenth  my  pleasure  to  convey;
Because  it  seemed  that  Paradise
Perchance  beyond  those  mountains  lay;
I  thought  the  stream  a  mere  device
To  join  the  pools  and  gardens  gay;
Beyond  the  stream,  in  some  strange  way,
Some  city  lay  spread  out  before.
The  stream  was  deep;  fear  bade  me  stay,
Yet  longing  filled  me  more  and  more
More  and  more  and  yet  more  still
I  longed  to  see  that  other  side;
If  this  bank  could  such  joy  instill
Still  lovelier  sights  that  shore  supplied.
I  stood  and  stared  against  my  will;
At  once  to  find  a  ford  I  tried,
But  felt  something  threatened  ill
The  more  I  walked  that  brook  beside.
'Gainst  further  progress  reason  cried
Though  such  delights  might  lie  in  store;
A  newer  thing  I  then  espied
That  moved  my  senses  more  and  more.
More  marvels  to  my  sense  repair
I  looked  and  saw  yet  more  anon,
A  crystal  cliff  resplendent  there
With  royal  rays  of  splendour  shone;
And  at  its  foot  a  child  so  fair
More  courtly  maiden  there  was  none.
A  gleaming  mantle  she  did  wear;
I  knew  her  well  from  times  long  gone,
Like  gold  that  craftsmen  work  upon
So  shone  that  maid  upon  that  shore,
And  long  my  eyes  did  linger  on
That  maid,  and  knew  her  more  and  more.

The  more  I  scanned  that  lovely  face,
That  lovely  form  so  long  unseen,
Such  gladness  did  my  soul  embrace
As  in  my  life  had  never  been.
My  need  to  call  her  grew  apace;
I  wondered  what  this  thing  might  mean;
To  see  her  in  so  strange  a  place
Might  deal  my  heart  a  blow  too  keen.
She  raised  her  head;  her  face  was  clean
As  polished  ivory,  I  swore;
Shaken  by  things  so  unforeseen,
I  longed  to  see  her  more  and  more


IV

Against  my  will  arose  more  fear;
I  stood  stock  still  and  dared  not  call.
With  mouth  set  fast,  but  eye  still  not  clear
I  stood  as  still  as  a  hawk  in  hall.
I  thought  her  purpose  spiritual  cheer
And  yet  I  feared  what  might  befall,
That  she  might  stop  ere  I  drew  near
And  might  escape  me  after  all;
That  gracious  girl,  so  smooth,  so  small,
So  free  of  stain,  so  seeming  slight,
Royally  clad,  rose  up  withal,
A  precious  maid  in  pearls  bedight.

With  pearls  bedight  most  royally
There  by  God's  grace  might  now  be  seen,
When  she,  as  fresh  as  fleur-de-lys,
Came  straightaway  down  to  the  bank  between,
Her  linen  gleaming  white  I  see,
Open  at  sides,  bright  with  a  sheen
Of  lovelier  pearls,  it  seemed  to  me
Than  in  my  sight  had  ever  been;
With  hanging  sleeves  so  wide  and  clean
And  double  rows  of  pearls  so  bright
Her  kirtle  matched  that  lovely  scene,
With  precious  pearls  richly  bedight.
Bedight  with  pearls  her  crown  arrayed;
With  pearls  and  with  no  other  stone,
High-pinnacled  in  pearls  displayed
With  figured  flowers  thereupon,
And  on  her  head  no  covering  laid.
Her  face  enclosèd  round;  as  one
Like  duke  or  earl  her  look  was  staid;
Her  features  white  as  whalebone  shone;
Like  burnished  gold  her  tresses  on
Her  shoulders,  all  unbound,  lay  light;
Their  hue  defied  comparison
With  wimple's  edge  in  pearls  bedight.
Bedight  with  pearls  at  every  hem
Of  wrists,  hands,  sides  and  throat  I  saw;
With  whitest  pearl,  no  other  gem,
And  gleaming  white  the  dress  she  wore;
Richer  than  any  diadem
A  pearl  upon  her  breast  she  bore;
No  man  might  praise  it  or  condemn,
Its  worth  would  surely  overawe.
I  judge  no  tongue  e'er  found  before  
Words  to  describe  that  glorious  sight,
So  clean  it  was,  so  clear,  so  pure.
That  precious  pearl  there  so  bedight.
Bedight  in  pearls,  that  precious  piece
From  that  far  bank  came  to  the  shore.
No  happier  man  from  here  to  Greece
To  see  her  stand  the  brink  before.
She  was  more  close  than  aunt  or  niece;
And  therefore  was  my  joy  the  more.
The  fairest  words  she  did  release,
Bowed  low  as  e'er  she  did  of  yore,
Removed  her  crown  of  richest  store
And  hailed  me  with  a  sweet  delight,
Well  for  the  man  my  mother  bore
To  greet  that  maid  in  pearls  bedight  !
'O  Pearl,'  I  said,  'in  pearls  bedight,
Are  you  my  pearl  for  whom  I  cried,
For  whom  I  grieved  alone  at  night  ?
Much  longing  I  for  you  have  sighed
Since  into  grass  you  left  my  sight.
Sorrow  and  grief  with  me  reside
While  you  remain  in  true  delight
In  Paradise,  in  peace  to  abide.
What  fate  did  now  my  pearl  betide
And  left  me  here  in  grief  and  care  ?
Since  you  were  severed  from  my  side
I  am  a  joyless  jeweller.'
That  jewel  then  in  gems  arrayed
Lifted  to  me  those  eyes  of  grey,
And  donned  her  crown,  of  jewels  made,
And  gravely  then  I  heard  her  say:
'Sir,  your  conclusion  is  mislaid
To  say  your  pearl  has  fled  away,
That  is  in  such  a  casket  laid
As  in  this  gracious  garden  gay,
To  dwell  in  joy  in  endless  day;
Never  can  loss  or  grief  come  near.
No  pearl  in  such  a  casket  lay,
'Twould  seem,  for  any  jeweller.'
'But,  jeweller  kind,  if  you  must  lose
Your  joy  in  a  gem  to  you  so  dear,
I  think  you  do  yourself  confuse,
Your  thought  short-lived,  your  view  unclear.
She  was  a  rose  which  could  not  choose
But  bloom  and  fade  by  laws  austere.
The  casket  naturally  endues
The  pearl  it  holds  with  worth  most  clear.
And  yet  you  call  your  fate  severe
When  much  from  naught  was  offered  there;
The  cure  you  curse  lay  always  near,
You  most  unnatural  jeweller.'
A  jewel  was  this  maid  to  me
And  jewels  were  her  noble  speech.
'Indeed,'  I  said,  'most  happily
In  my  distress  you  make  a  breach;
May  my  great  fault  forgiven  be  !
I  thought  my  pearl  far  out  of  reach
Now  I  have  found  it,  great  my  glee;
I'Il  dwell  in  woods  of  oak  and  beech,
And  love  the  laws  my  Lord  doth  teach
That  have  provided  joys  sincere.
And  if  yon  bank  I  now  could  reaeh,
I'd  be  a  joyful  jeweller.'
 Jeweller,'  said  this  gern  sublime,
'You  jest  !  You  lack  all  sanity  !
Three  words  you  utter  at  one  time;
Ill-judged,  in  truth,  were  they  all  three.
Your  thought  no  reason  has  nor  rhyme;
Your  words  before  your  thoughts  run  free.
You  say  that  you  believe  that  I'm
Lodged  in  this  vale,  for  that  you  see;
And  then  you  say,  in  this  country
That  you  can  dwell  with  me  right  here;
Third,  you  may  cross  the  stream  to  me-
That  may  no  joyful  jeweller.'


VI

'I  give  that  jeweller  little  praise
Who  trusts  the  witness  of  his  eye,
And  much  to  blame,  and  lacking  grace,
Who  thinks  our  Lord  would  make  a  lie,
Who  faithfully  swore  your  soul  to  raise,
Though  fate  decreed  your  flesh  should  die.
You  set  his  words  in  crooked  ways
Accepting  naught  your  eyes  deny.
That  is  a  proof  of  pride  too  high,
With  which  no  good  man  could  agree,
Accepting  naught  he  cannot  try
Unless  his  judgement  so  decree.'

'Judge  for  yourself  if,  as  a  man,
Such  words  to  God  you  e'er  should  say.
You  think  to  dwell  here,  if  you  can,
First  you  must  needs  ask  if  you  may.
And  you  will  learn  there  is  a  ban;
To  cross  this  stream  without  delay
Offends  against  the  heavenly  plan.
First,  you  must  sink  into  the  clay;
In  Eden,  man  dared  disobey
Because  he  lacked  humility;
Now  man  through  death  must  make  his  way
For  God  so  judged.  'Tis  his  decree.
Am  I  then  judged,'  I  said,  'my  sweet,
To  grieve  again?  Then  I  must  pine;
To  find,  then  lose,  is  loss  complete.
Must  I  accept,  my  life  consign
To  loss  and  death?  It  is  not  meet
That  you,  my  pearl,  make  me  repine;
Gain  that  brings  tears  is  mere  deceit.
If  I  must  now  myself  resign,
I  care  not  how  low  I  decline
Nor  how  far  hence  I  now  must  flee;
My  pearl  is  lost  that  once  was  mine,
Such  judgement  sorrow  must  decree.
'You  judge  this  nothing  but  distress,'
Then  said  that  maid,  'Why  do  you  so  ?
He  who  concerns  himself  with  less
Must  thoughts  of  greater  loss  forgo.
Remember  Him  who  lives  to  bless,
And  still  love  God,  come  weal  or  woe.
Do  not  complain  when,  comfortless,
You  wax  impatient,  for,  although
You  leap  as  high  as  any  doe
And  writhe  and  moan  in  agony,
When  you  can  then  no  further  go
Abide  His  judgement,  His  decree.
If  you  judge  Him,  and  Him  accuse,
He  will  not  turn  one  step  aside;
His  recompense  you  then  will  lose;
Your  sorrow  then  you  must  abide.
Cease  all  your  wrangling  and  abuse
And  in  His  mercy  still  confide.
Compassion  he  will  not  refuse,
His  power  thus  is  magnified.
For,  though  you  grieve,  and  seek  to  hide
The  depth  of  all  your  misery,
His  grace  is  ever  by  your  side,
And  He  will  judge.  'Tis  His  decree.'

VII  

I  said,  'I  will  His  judgement  bear,
I  would  not  quarrel  with  my  Lord.
Rashly  I  stumbled,  in  despair,
My  heart  its  load  of  grief  outpoured.
As  from  a  well  of  water  fair
His  mercy  will  be  my  reward.
Rebuke  me  not,  my  dear,  forbear  !
Though  my  offence  must  be  abhorred;
But  let  your  comfort  be  restored,
For  pity  never  comes  amiss:
I  learned  from  you  of  grief  s  discord
Who  once  was  root  of  all  my  bliss.
My  bliss,  my  sorrow  you  have  been,
But  much  the  greater  was  my  grief;
Since  you  were  freed  from  harms  unseen
My  loss  has  never  known  relief,
But  now  is  eased  by  what  I've  seen.
That  we  were  one  was  my  belief;
Now  God  forbid  that  wrath  demean
This  meeting  rare  and  all  too  brief.
Pardon  with  grace  my  disbelief;
I  am  but  dust  and  too  remiss.
Christ,  Mary,  John,  they  are  the  chief
And  surest  ground  of  all  my  bliss.
In  bliss  your  heavenly  lot  I  see  
Yet  I  a  man  disconsolate;  
You  pay  but  little  heed  to  me  
Although  my  suffering  is  great.  
Since  with  you  here  I  now  can  be,  
I  beg  you  then  without  debate,  
To  tell  me  now,  agreeably,  
What  life  you  have  led  here  of  late,  
For  I  am  happy  that  your  state  
Has  come  to  honour  such  as  this,  
Of  all  my  joy  the  highway  gate  
It  is,  and  root  of  all  my  bliss.  
May  bliss,  good  sir,  now  you  betide,'  
Then  said  that  maid  without  a  peer;  
'Welcome  are  you  to  walk  and  bide  
For  now  your  words  to  me  are  dear.  
Arrogant  mood  and  lofty  pride  
I  hate,  as  they  are  hated  here;  
My  Lord  is  not  disposed  to  chide,  
Since  but  the  meek  to  Him  draw  near;  
When  in  his  house  you  shall  appear  
All  mortal  pride  you  must  dismiss:  
My  Lord  the  Lamb  loves  humbler  cheer;  
That  is  the  ground  of  all  my  bliss.'  
A  blissful  life  you  say  I  lead  
And  seek  to  know  in  what  degree;  
Your  pearl  was  lost,  you  know  indeed,  
When  she  was  tender,  young  and  free.  
My  Lord  the  Lamb,  who  knew  my  need,  
Took  me  in  marriage  graciously,  
Crowned  me,  that  now  my  joys  exceed  
The  sum  of  days  that  e'er  shall  be;  
Gave  all  his  heritage  to  me,  
His  dearest  one,  and  wholly  his,  
Precious,  and  of  his  family.  
That  is  the  root  of  all  my  bliss.

VIII

'Blissful  ?'  I  said.  'Can  this  be  true  ?  
Forgive  if  aught  amiss  I  say;  
Are  you  the  queen  of  heaven  blue  
To  whom  this  world  must  honour  pay  ?  
We  know  in  grace  that  Mary  grew  
And,  virgin,  bore  a  child  one  day;  
What  maid  could  now  her  crown  outdo  
Unless  her  worth  matched  such  assay,  
Or  sweetness  such  as  hers  display  ?  
The  Phoenix  she,  of  Araby's  race,  
From  her  Creator  flew,  they  say,  
Like  to  that  Queen  of  heavenly  grace.'  

'Gracious  Queen,'  that  maiden  prayed,  
With  face  upturned,  and  kneeling  low  
Matchless  Mother  and  fairest  Maid,  
Source  of  all  grace,  above,  below  r'  
Then  she  arose,  and  a  moment  stayed,  
And  there  and  then,  with  face  aglow,  
Said,  'All  who  strive  here  are  repaid,  
But  from  here  all  usurpers  go;  
Her  empire  doth  all  Heaven  know,  
And  Earth  and  Hell  to  her  give  place;  
No  heir  to  Heaven  will  she  o'erthrow,  
For  she  is  Queen  of  heavenly  grace.'  
The  court  of  the  kingdom  of  God  alive  
By  nature  holds  one  special  thing,  
That  all  who  may  therein  arrive  
Of  all  that  realm  is  queen  or  king.  
And  none  shall  others  e'er  deprive,  
Others'  good  fortune  valuing,  
And  wish  their  crowns  increased  by  five,  
Could  fortune  e'er  such  increase  bring.  
That  Maid  from  whom  the  Christ  did  spring  
All  spiritual  power  doth  embrace,  
Which  none  here  finds  discomfiting  
For  she  is  Queen  of  heavenly  grace.'  
'By  heavenly  grace,  so  says  Saint  Paul,  
In  Jesus  Christ  we  all  are  one  
As  hand,  arm,  leg  and  navel,  all  
Parts  of  the  body,  cling  thereon;  
So  every  Christian  soul  withal  
Lives  as  one  part  of  God's  own  Son.,  
Reflect  if  any  hate  or  gall  
Your  limbs  have  ever  undergone;  
The  hand  your  ring  is  worn  upon  
On  your  own  head  brings  no  disgrace.  
So  do  we  here  in  joy  live  on  
As  queen  and  king  by  heavenly  grace.'  
'In  grace,  I  said,  'I  do  believe,  
May  grace  unto  you  all  belong.  
But  that  my  words  should  no  one  grieve  
 .    .    .    .    .    .  
Your  state  too  highly  you  conceive  
To  make  a  queen  of  one  so  young.  
What  greater  height  could  man  achieve  
Who  had  endured  through  perils  strong  
And  lived  in  penance  all  life  long  
And  met  great  torments  face  to  face  ?  
How  could  more  honours  on  him  throng  
Than  to  be  king  by  heavenly  grace  ?'  

IX  
'Too  great  such  grace  from  God's  own  hand  
If  all  that  you  have  said  is  true;  
You  lived  not  two  years  in  our  land,  
How  to  please  God  you  never  know,  
Nor  Creed  nor  prayers  could  understand;  
Made  queen  upon  the  first  day  too!  
I  cannot  credit  this  command;  
It  is  not  something  God  would  do;  
A  countess,  not  a  maid  like  you,  
Might  well  some  station  here  display,  
Or  lady  lacking  retinue,  
But  queen  ?  And  in  a  single  day  !'  

'No  day  God's  goodness  e'er  restrains,'  
Then  said  that  worthy  maid  to  me,  
'For  all  is  true  that  He  ordains,  
Nothing  but  right  will  he  decree,  
As  Matthew  in  the  Mass  explains.  
In  God's  great  gospel  men  can  see  
A  parable  which  there  contains  
The  likeness  of  His  kingdom  free.  
"My  reign,"  He  said,  'may  likened  be  
To  a  certain  lord  of  vineyards,  say;  
The  season  was  in  harmony,  
For  harvest  'twas  the  fittest  day.

'The  hands  knew  that  the  day  was  near;  
That  lord  full  early  up  arose  
To  hire  men,  and  commandeer  
Their  labour;  and  he  hires  those  
And  makes  agreement  for  a  mere  
Penny  a  day,  and  each  man  goes  
To  work  and  toil  at  tasks  severe,  
To  prune  or  bind  as  each  man  chose.  
At  the  third  hour  the  master  rose,  
Saw  idle  men  upon  his  way.  
"Idle  ?"  he  says.  "Do  you  suppose  
That  this  is  not  the  start  of  day  ?"'  

"'We  came  before  the  day  began,"  
They  all  as  one  man  made  reply,  
"We  stood  since  sunrise,  and  no  man  
Desired  our  services  to  buy."  
"Go  to  my  vines  !  Do  what  you  can  !"  
So  said  the  lord.  "I  will  comply.  
With  what  was  settled  in  my  plan  
In  deed  and  thought  I  will  supply."  
And  now  their  efforts  multiply;  
The  lord,  content,  then  went  away  
And  found  new  men,  his  spirits  high,  
Till  it  was  past  the  close  of  day.  

'At  close  of  day,  at  evensong,  
One  hour  before  the  sun  had  set,  
He  saw  there  idle  men  and  strong  
And  said,  in  tones  of  grave  regret,  
"Why  stand  you  idle  all  day  long  ?"'  
They  said  no  man  had  hired  them  yet.  
"Go  to  my  vines,  you  yeomen  young;  
Do  what  you  can,  with  toil  and  sweat  !"  
Soon  the  sky's  light  was  overset,  
The  sun  was  low,  the  heavens  gray.  
The  lord  then  went  to  pay  his  debt;  
'Twas  past  the  ending  of  the  day.'  

X  


'The  lord  knew  day  was  done,  and  so  
Called  to  his  reeve,  "Thus  I  ordain,  
Give  them  the  payment  that  I  owe,  
And,  so  that  none  may  me  disdain,  
Set  all  of'  them  upon  a  row  
And  let  them  each  their  penny  gain;  
Start  at  the  last  one,  standing  low,  
Till  to  the  first  you  shall  attain  !"  
And  then  the  first  men  did  complain,  
And  said  that  they  had  laboured  sore.  
'"These  worked  but  one  hour;  that  is  plain.  
We  think  we  should  be  given  more  !  ""  

 "'We  deserve  more,  and  that  you  owe;  
We  suffered  in  the  dust  and  heat;  
These  men  worked  but  an  hour  or  so,  
You  use  them  now  poor  men  to  cheat  !"  
Then  said  the  lord,  "Friends,  well  you  know  
That  I  have  practised  no  deceit;  
Take  what  is  rightly  yours  and  go;  
A  penny  is  the  payment  meet.  
What  reason  have  you  now  to  bleat?  
Was  not  the  wage  agreed  before?  
Is  not  the  covenant  now  complete?  
What  right  have  you  to  ask  for  more?'"  

"'And  more,  does  not  the  law  imply  
That  I  may  do  what  pleases  me?  
Does  evil  then  corrupt  your  eye  
Because  I  act  so  scrupulously?"  
"And  thus,"  said  Jesus  Christ,  '"do  I  
Ordain  the  last  the  first  shall  be,  
And  first  the  last,  though  swift  he  tüy.  
And  each  poor  man  I  will  supply  
Though  he  comes  late,  and  small  his  store;  
His  work  may  little  justify;  
God's  mercy  is  still  much  the  more.'"  

'More  joy  and  bliss  I  now  possess  
Of  queenly  rank  and  high  degree,  
Than  all  the  world  could  e'er  profess  
If  justice  were  their  only  plea.  
Though  I  came  late,  yet,  nonetheless,  
My  Lord  that  evening  welcomed  me  
And  did  my  coming  richly  bless,  
Rewarding  me  most  generously.  
Yet  there  were  others,  I  could  see,  
Who  laboured  long  and  hardship  bore,  
But  they  could  not  rewarded  be  
Perhaps  not  for  a  whole  year  more.'  

Then  I  spoke  up,  and  more  I  said,  
"Your  tale  flouts  reason  every  way,  
God's  grace  is  quick,  His  power  widespread,  
Or  Holy  Writ  is  mere  hearsay.  
In  Psalter  may  this  verse  be  read;  
It  makes  a  point  none  can  gainsay:  
"For  his  deserts  each  man  you  fed,  
High  King,  who  o'er  the  world  holds  sway  !"  
If  one  man  worked  throughout  the  day  
And  you  came  and  were  paid  before,  
The  less  the  work,  the  more  the  pay,  
For  so  much  less,  that  much  the  more.'  



XI  


'Of  more  and  less  in  God's  domain,'  
That  lady  said,  'there  is  no  doubt,  
For  every  man  is  paid  the  same  
'Though  less  or  more  is  handed  out.  
Our  Chieftain  kind  will  none  disclaim  
Whether  good  or  ill  should  come  about;  
His  gifts  are  poured  as  though  they  came  
As  streams  from  out  a  chasm  spout  
His  gifts  no  hindrance  e'er  can  flout  
In  rescuing  man  from  sin's  embrace.  
Such  bliss  no  man  need  be  without  
For  great  indeed  is  God's  good  grace.  

But  now  my  cause  you  denigrate  
To  say  my  payment  was  unfair;  
You  say  that  I  came  much  too  late  
And  merit  no  such  generous  share.  
Where  were  there  ever  men  so  great  
And  ever  fervent  in  their  prayer,  
Who  have  not  sometimes  marred  their  fate  
And  forfeited  Heaven's  bounty  fair  ?  
And  often  the  older  such  men  were  
They  left  the  good  and  wrong  would  chase.  
Mercy  and  grace  must  guide  them  there,  
But  great  enough  is  God's  good  grace.  

Sufficient  grace  have  the  innocent  
When  they  are  born  in  God"s  good  time;  
In  baptism's  stream  they  make  descent  
Then  they  are  brought  into  the  vine.  
Soon  darkness  hides  a  day  far  spent  
And  to  death"s  night  they  now  decline,  
Who  did  no  evil  ere  they  went  
So  he  full  payment  will  assign  
For  they  fulfilled  his  great  design.  
Why  should  he  not  their  cause  embrace  
Indeed,  and  pay  them  first  in  line  ?  
For  great  enough  is  God's  good  grace.  

Enough  is  known,  how  all  mankind  
Was  made  to  live  in  Heaven's  delight,  
Till  Adam  all  man's  hope  maligned  
Through  an  apple  that  he  chose  to  bite.  
And  for  his  sin  we  were  consigned  
To  die  in  grief,  in  joy's  despite,  
Into  Hell's  fires  our  way  to  wind  
Therein  to  dwell  without  respite.  
But  then  to  save  men  from  this  plight  
From  roughest  cross  did  rich  blood  race  
And  precious  water  set  all  right  
For  great  enough  is  God's  good  grace.  

Sufficient  grace  flows  from  that  well,  
Water  and  blood  from  gaping  wound;  
That  blood  frees  us  from  pains  of  Hell,  
No  second  death  can  us  astound.  
The  water  is  baptism,  truth  to  tell,  
That  followed  the  spear  so  cruelly  ground;  
It  washes  away  offences  fell  
That  us  in  death  had  Adam  drowned.  
Now  there  is  naught  in  the  whole  world  round  
'Twixt  us  and  joy  e'er  out  of  place;  
They  are  restored,  and  healing  found,  
For  great  enough  is  God's  good  grace.  


XII  


Grace  enough  has  every  man  
Who  sins  anew,  if  he  repents  
And  in  true  grief  does  all  he  can  
To  pay  the  price  for  his  offence.  
Reason  can  do  no  other  than  
Save  evermore  the  innocents;  
It  is  no  part  of  God's  great  plan  
That  they  should  suffer  punishments.  
The  guilty  may,  through  penitence,  
In  mercy  win  to  grace  outright.  
He  who  'gainst  evil  mounts  defence,  
Being  innocent,  is  safe  and  right.  

Right  well  I  know  that,  in  like  case,  
Two  men  are  saved  by  God's  good  will.  
The  righteous  man  shall  see  his  face  
The  innocent  his  place  shall  fill.  
The  Psalter  says  in  certain  place:  
"Lord  who  shall  climb  Thy  heavenly  hill?  
Or  rest  within  Thy  holy  place?"  
His  answer  will  this  truth  distil:  
"He  that  with  hands  has  done  no  ill,  
Who  is  of  heart  both  clean  and  light,  
Here  shall  his  foot  be  planted  still."  
The  innocent  is  safe  by  right.  

Certain  it  is  the  righteous  can  
The  approach  unto  that  castle  share,  
Whose  life  pursues  no  foolish  plan,  
Who  causes  not  his  neighbour  care.  
Solomon  says  the  righteous  man  
Honour  acquires  through  Wisdom,  where  
She  taught  him  so  in  ways  that  can  
Truly  reveal  God's  kingdom  fair.  
As  who  says,  "Lo,  beyond  compare  
That  land,  if  thou  win  through  with  might."  
'Tis  certain  naught  can  him  ensnare,  
Innocence  is  ever  safe  by  right.  

 Further,  concerning  righteous  men,  
David's  Psalm  says,  as  you  may  see,  
"Lord,  do  not  judge  Thy  servant,  when  
None  is  e'er  justified  to  Thee."  
So  in  that  court  of  justice,  when  
Our  cases  will  examined  be;  
Claim  to  be  saved  by  right  again  
And  these  same  words  will  censure  thee.  
But  He  who  bled  upon  that  tree  
Pierced  through  his  hands  with  cruel  might,  
When  you  are  tried  may  set  you  free  
By  innocence,  and  not  by  right.  

'He  who  can  righteously  read  
Should  read  the  Book,  and  heed  this  thought:  
How  Jesus  walked  with  men  indeed,  
And  they  to  Him  their  children  brought  
For  health  and  joy  to  meet  their  need;  
And  that  He  touch  them  they  besought,  
But  his  disciples  paid  no  heed  
And  hindered  them  with  stern  retort.  
Then  Jesus  them  most  sweetly  taught:  
"Let  them  all  come  within  my  sight-,  
My  Kingdom  is  where  they  consort."  
The  innocent  are  safe  by  right.  


XIII


Jesus  called  his  followers  mild,  
And  said  no  man  His  realm  could  win  
Unless  he  eame  there  as  a  child;  
Else,  he  could  never  enter  in.  
The  innocent,  true,  and  undefiled,  
Without  a  spot  or  stain  of  sin,  
These,  when  they  knock,  are  not  reviled;  
Quickly  do  men  the  gate  unpin.  
Joys  will  not  cease  that  there  begin,  
So  precious  pearls  the  jeweller  sought,  
Sold  all  his  goods,  and  cloths  akin  
To  buy  a  pearl  without  a  spot.  

This  spotless  pearl,  whose  price  was  dear,  
For  which  that  man  gave  all  he  could,  
Is  like  the  realm  of  Heaven  clear,  
So  says  the  Lord  of  field  and  flood,  
For  it  is  spotless,  pure  and  fair,  
Endlessly  round,  serene  of  mood,  
And  owned  by  those  who  righteous  were.  
Lo,  centred  on  my  breast  it  stood;  
My  Lord,  the  Lamb,  who  shed  His  blood,  
There  set  it,  and  my  peace  begot.  
Forsake  this  mad  world,  as  you  should,  
And  buy  this  pearl  without  a  spot.  

'O  matchless  pearl,  which  pearls  embrace'  
Who  wears,  I  said,  the  earl  I  see,  
Who  formed  for  you  that  lovely  face  
And  made  that  robe?  Most  wise  was  He.  
Never  by  nature  came  such  grace,  
Pygmalion  could  not  have  painted  thee,  
Nor  Aristotle's  learning  trace  
Right  words  for  such  a  property.  
Your  colour  surpasses  the  fleur-de-lys;  
Your  angel-form  such  grace  has  got;  
Tell  me,  what  office  could  it  be  
Merits  a  pearl  so  free  of  spot?'

My  peerless  Lamb,  amending  all,'  
Said  she,  'designed  what  I  should  be.  
Chose  me  as  bride,  although  withal  
Unfitting  such  a  destiny.  
And  when  I  left  a  world  in  thrall  
He  called  me  to  felicity;  
"Come  here  to  Me,  my  loved  one  small,  
No  spot  or  stain  I  find  in  thee."  
He  gave  me  power  and  beauty  free,  
Cleansed  with  his  blood  each  earthly  spot,  
And  crowned  me  with  virginity,  
Adorned  me  with  pearls  without  a  spot.

Maid  without  spot,  who  shines  so  bright,  
With  dignities  so  richly  rife  
What  being  is  this  who  in  some  rite  
Takes  you  unto  him  for  his  wife,  
Over  all  to  reach  such  splendid  height,  
And  lead  with  Him  a  lady's  life  ?  
For  many  a  comely  lady  light  
For  Christ  bore  woes  like  sharpest  knife,  
Yet  He,  o'er  them,  makes  you  his  wife  
Usurping  thus  their  rightful  lot,  
Making  you  sure  against  all  strife,  
A  matchless  maid  without  a  spot.  


XIV  


'Matchless  ?'  said  that  beauteous  maid.  
'Unblemished  am  I,  and  do  no  wrong,  
But  "matchless  maid"  I  never  said,  
Nor  could  such  honour  to  me  belong.  
Wives  of  the  Lamb  in  joy  we're  made  
One  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  strong,  
As  in  the  Apocalypse  conveyed:  
Saint  John  it  was  who  saw  that  throng  
The  Mount  oi'  Zion  all  among;  
In  spiritual  vision  he  witnessed  them  
Arrayed  l'or  the  wedding  those  slopes  along,  
In  that  city  new,  Jerusalem.

Of  Jerusalem  I  now  must  tell  
To  bring  this  being  within  your  ken,  
My  Lord,  my  Lamb,  my  dear  jewel,  
My  joy,  my  bliss,  most  pure  of  men.  
Isaiah  did  his  fate  foretell,  
Compassionately  described  him  then,  
That  glorious  guiltless  One  who  fell  
With  no  wrong  proved  against  Him,  when  
As  lambs  led  to  the  slaughterer's  den  
Where  men  with  shears  lay  hold  on  them,  
No  answer  made  he  when  again  
Jews  judged  him  in  Jerusalem.  

In  Jerusalem  was  my  loved  One  slain,  
Rent  on  the  Cross  by  ruffians  bold,  
Took  on  Himself  with  grievous  pain,  
Willingly,  our  indifference  cold.  
Their  blows  upon  his  face  did  rain,  
That  face  so  gracious  to  behold;  
He  gave  himself  for  sin;  no  stain  
Of  sin  upon  Himself  laid  hold;  
Racked  and  rent  on  that  Cross  of  old,  
Stretched  out  upon  that  beam  by  them,  
Meek  as  a  lamb  in  silent  fold,  
For  us  He  died  in  Jerusalem.  

 'In  Jerusalem,  Jordan  and  Galilee  
Men  were  baptized  by  good  Saint  John;  
His  words  do  with  Isaiah  agree.  
When  Jesus  unto  him  had  gone,  
John  spoke  of  him  this  prophesy:  
"Lo,  see  God's  Lamb,  the  Chosen  One  
Who  drives  away  the  sins  that  we  
As  men  upon  ourselves  brought  on,  
Yet  He  Himself  committed  none  
And  on  Himself  took  all  of  them.  
This  generation  rests  upon  
His  death  for  us  in  Jerusalem."  

To  Jerusalem,  my  beloved  sweet  
Twice  as  a  lamb  was  taken,  where  
Both  prophets  do  this  truth  repeat  
That  He  was  meek,  of  countenance  fair.  
The  third  time  was  the  occasion  meet,  
As  the  Apocalypse  makes  us  aware;  
Upon  the  throne,  saints  took  their  seat;  
The  apostle  John  did  witness  bear,  
Opening  the  book  with  pages  square,  
Edged  with  seven  seals  on  every  hem  
And  at  the  sight  men  cowered  there  
In  Hell,  in  Earth,  and  Jerusalem.'  


XV  


This  Jerusalem  Lamb  had  not  a  grain  
Of  colour,  save  a  dazzling  white;  
No  spot  on  it  could  spread  again  
For  it  was  thick  and  fleecy  quite.  
And  every  soul  without  a  stain  
Is  to  that  Lamb  a  wife  by  right.  
He  brings  each  day  more  to  the  train  
But  no  strife  can  our  uni  on  blight;  
If  each  were  five,  'twould  bring  delight.  
The  more  the  merner,  if  God  bless.  
In  harmony  love  thrives  aright,  
In  honour  more  and  never  less.  

To  us,  our  joy  comes  all  unsought,  
Who  bear  this  pearl  upon  the  breast.  
To  quarrelling  we  give  no  thought  
Who  bear  of  spotless  pearls  the  best.  
And  though  each  one  to  clay  was  brought  
And  you  in  grief  cry  out  for  rest,  
We  know  full  well  that  we  have  bought  
Our  hope  with  one  sharp  death's  arrest,  
The  Lamb  from  us  all  care  can  wrest,  
Each  mass  brings  joy  none  can  express.  
In  heavenly  joy  are  we  each  dressed  
Yet  no  one's  honour  is  the  less.  
'Lest  less  in  truth  my  word  persuades  
In  the  Apocalypse  we  find  this  said:  
"I  saw,"  says  John,"in  Zion's  glades  
The  Lamb  most  noble  at  the  head  
Of  full  one  hundred  thousand  maids  
With  four  and  forty  thousand  spread.  
His  and  His  Father's  names  ne'er  fades  
From  each  and  every  maid's  forehead.  
A  shout  from  Heaven  then  outspread  
Like  floods  which  ever  onward  press  
Or  thunder  which  blue  hills  invades;  
That  sound,  I  believe,  was  never  less.  

And  sharply  did  those  voices  ring  
As  voices  loud  the  echoes  chase,  
A  note  quite  new  I  heard  them  sing,  
Most  tunefully,  it  filled  that  place,  
As  harpists  play  upon  the  string  
Full  clearly,  and  with  gentle  pace  
Resüunding,  a  most  lovely  thing;  
The  melody  was  full  of  grace.  
Right  there,  before  God's  holy  dais,  
And  the  four  beasts  that  Him  confess  
And  elders  all  most  grave  ofü  face,  
The  song  they  sang  was  never  less.

Never  did  one,  though  skilful  quite  
And  master  of  the  crafts  he  knew  
Who  could  that  music  sing  aright  
Save  those  who  that  fair  Lamb  pursue;  
They  are  redeemed,  brought  to  the  light  
As  first  fruits  who  to  Him  are  due,  
In  the  gentle  Lamb  they  all  unite,  
Like  to  Himself  in  form  and  hue,  
Never  do  lies  or  tales  untrue  
Corrupt  their  tongues,  whate'er  the  stress,  
None  separates  that  spotless  crew  
From  that  peerless  Master,  none  the  less."'  

'Let  my  thanks  be  never  thought  the  less,'  
I  said,  'though  questions  may  intrude.  
I  should  not  doubt  the  nobleness  
Of  one  who  in  Christ's  chamber  stood;  
I  am  of  dirt  and  dust  a  mess  
And  you  a  rose,  so  rich  and  good,  
Dwell  on  this  hill  in  joyfulness,  
Where  nothing  can  such  bliss  preclude,  
Now,  maid  with  simpleness  imbued,  
Plainly,  may  I  on  you  prevail  
Though  I,  like  any  churl,  seem  rude,  
To  let  my  prayer  no  less  avail?


XVI

Now  none  the  less  on  you  I  call.  
If  this  to  do,  you  see  your  way;  
Glorious,  and  with  no  spot  at  all,  
Reject  not  what  I  sadly  say.  
Do  you  not  dwell  in  castle  wall  ?  
Is  there  no  mansion  where  you  stay  ?  
You  say  Jerusalem  withal  
Where  royal  David  once  held  sway;  
But  in  these  woods  it  never  lay  
For  in  Judaea  'twas  stablished  plain,  
Since  you  are  spotless  as  the  day,  
Your  city  should  be  free  of  stain.  

You  claim  a  spotless  retinue  
Of  thousands  thronged  as  in  a  rout,  
So  some  great  city,  to  speak  true,  
You  then  must  need,  without  a  doubt;  
And  such  a  spotless  host  as  you  
Would  surely  never  dwell  without,  
Yet  on  these  slopes  which  now  I  view  
I  see  no  dwelling  hereabout.  
I  think  that  here  you  wander  out  
To  view  this  stream  of  glory  plain;  
If  you  have  other  fine  redoubt  
Show  me  this  city  without  stain.  

'The  city  you  mean  is  in  Judaea,'  
That  precious  maid  to  me  then  spake,  
The  city  to  which  the  Lamb  came;  here  
To  suffer  in  sorrow  for  all  men's  sake-,  
The  old  Jerusalem,  to  make  all  clear,  
For  there  did  man  old  sins  forsake.  
Through  God's  light  did  new  life  appear,  
The  Anocalypse  this  theme  does  take.  
The  Lamb  who  can  no  evil  make  
There  has  his  own  fair  flock  in  train;  
And,  since  his  folk  all  sins  forsake,  
So  is  his  city  without  stain.  

'These  two  of  which  I  spoke  before  
Jerusalem  is  the  name  of  these-  
Their  titles  both  mean  nothing  more  
Than  "city  of  God"  or  "vision  of  peace".  
In  one  our  peace  was  founded,  for  
The  Lamb  there  suffered  without  cease;  
The  other  gives  peace  for  evermore  
For  all  to  glean  with  no  decrease;  
When  we  haste  to  our  own  decease  
And  our  flesh  in  the  ground  to  rot  is  lain  
Our  joy  and  bliss  shall  still  increase  
To  the  company  that  has  no  stain.  

'Spotless  maid  so  meek  and  bright,'  
I  said  then  to  that  lovely  flower,  
'Show  me  that  place  of  such  delight  
And  let  me  see  your  blissful  bower'  
She  said,  'God  grants  you  no  such  sight,  
You  may  not  enter  in  that  tower.  
But  now  the  Lamb  gives  me  the  right  
To  let  your  gaze  the  sight  devour  
Of  this  which  is  my  holy  dower,  
But  entrance  there  you  cannot  gain,  
To  walk  there  you  have  not  the  power  
Unless  you  are  without  a  stain.  


XVII

'I  would  not  wish  this  place  to  hide;  
Go  up  towards  this  water's  head,  
And  I,  upon  the  other  side,  
Will  follow  to  the  hill,'  she  said.  
I  could  no  longer  there  abide  
With  leafy  boughs  above  me  spread  
Till  on  a  hill  I  then  espied  
That  city  fair  that  lay  ahead,  
Beyond  the  brook,  as  on  I  tread,  
Radiant  with  light  that  city  shone.  
In  the  Apocalypse  is  the  matter  said,  
Described  by  the  apostle  John.  

As  John  the  apostle  saw  that  sight  
I  viewed  that  city  so  renowned;  
Jerusalem,  new,  royally  bedight  
As  though  with  light  from  Heaven  crowned.  
Of  purest  gold  that  city  bright  
Like  gleaming  glass  all  burnished  round,  
With  noble  jewels  set  aright  
On  a  base  of  full  twelve  tiers  around-  
Foundations  twelve  with  tenons  sound-  
Each  fundament  a  precious  stone,  
As  was  described  this  very  town  
In  Apocalypse  by  the  apostle  John.  

I  knew  the  names  John  did  recount  
From  Holy  Writ  I  heard  before.  
Jasper  the  first  that  I  did  count,  
The  first  of  all  the  settings  bore.  
It  glistened  green  in  the  lowest  mount.  
The  second  place  the  sapphire  wore;  
Chalcedony  third,  the  very  fount  
Of  palest  purity  with  no  flaw;  
The  emerald  was  number  four;  
Sardonyx  then  was  the  fifth  stone;  
Sixth  was  the  ruby,  as  men  saw  
In  Apocalypse  from  the  apostle  John.  

Then  added  John  the  chrysolite,  
The  seventh  in  the  fundament;  
The  eighth  the  beryl  clear  and  white;  
The  twin-hued  topaz  prominent;  
The  chrysoprase  the  tenth  bedight;  
The  jacinth  eleventh  by  precedent;  
The  twelfth,  a  talisman  in  each  plight,  
Amethyst  purple,  with  indigo  blent.  
The  wall  above  the  tiers'  ascent  
Were  jasper,  like  radiant  glass  it  shone,  
I  knew  it  by  the  testament  
In  the  Apocalypse  of  the  apostle  John.  

As  John  described,  I  saw  them  there:  
Steep  were  those  twelve  degrees  of  stair;  
The  city  stood  above,  full  square,  
In  length,  and  breadth,  and  height  full  fair;  
Like  glass,  the  streets  of  gold  gleamed;  their  
Bright  jasper  walls  adorned  most  rare;  
The  inner  rooms  resplendent  were  
With  every  kind  of  stone,  I  swear,  
That  could  be  brought  together,  where  
From  end  to  end,  twelve  furlongs  on  
With  height,  and  breadth,  and  length  to  spare  
In  the  Apocalypse  saw  the  apostle  John.


XVIII

I  saw,  as  John  relates  to  me,  
The  city's  walls  each  had  three  gates;  
So  twelve  I  reckoned  there  must  be,  
Their  portals  graced  with  splendid  plates.  
Each  held  a  pearl  of  high  degree.  
A  pearl  from  which  light  radiates,  
And  on  each  pearl  inscribed  I  see  
That  Israel's  bairns  it  tabulates  
Recorded  by  their  natal  dates  
The  oldest  first,  as  should  be  done;  
Each  street  so  gleams  and  coruscates  
It  needs  no  light  from  moon  or  sun.  

Of  sun  and  moon  they  had  no  need;  
For  God  Himself  was  all  their  light,  
The  Lamb  their  lantern  was  indeed;  
Through  Him  the  city  burned  all  bright.  
Through  walls  and  homes  my  eyes  could  read,  
All  was  transparent  to  my  sight.  
To  that  high  throne  I  now  paid  heed  
With  all  its  ornament  bedight,  
As  John  the  apostle  did  indite;  
And  God  Himself  sat  on  that  throne.  
From  it  a  river  ran  outright  
Far  brighter  than  the  sun  or  moon.

 Sun  or  moon  ne'er  shone  so  sweet  
As  that  free  flood  which  swift  unwound;  
Swiftly  it  rushed  through  every  street  
No  filth  or  slime  in  it  is  found.  
No  church  it  needs  to  be  complete,  
Chapels  or  temples  ne'er  abound:  
The  Almighty  only  holds  that  seat;  
The  Lamb's  oblation  makes  all  sound.  
No  gate  is  ever  tightly  bound,  
Each  road  is  open  night  and  noon;  
None  enters  there  into  that  ground  
With  any  stain  beneath  the  moon.  

The  moon  from  there  can  steal  no  light;  
Too  stained  she  is,  too  slatternly,  
That  city  never  dwelt  in  night,  
Why  should  she  make  her  circuit  free  
To  vie  with  all  that  splendour  bright  
That  shines  on  streams  so  splendidly  ?  
Planets  are  in  too  poor  a  plight,  
The  sun  itself  outshone  would  be.  
About  that  stream  is  many  a  tree  
Twelve  fruits  of  life  they  bear  full  soon  
Twelve  times  each  year  the  fruit  we  see,  
Renewed  again  with  every  moon.  

Beneath  the  moon,  such  marvels,  all  
That  mortal  heart  might  not  endure  
As  when  I  gazed  upon  that  wall  
So  wondrous  was  its  form,  so  pure.  
Like  startled  quail  I  stood  withal,  
At  sight  of  it;  fra.il,  insecure.  
Nor  rest  nor  toll  could  I  recall;  
Naught  could  such  radiance  obscure.  
For  I  dare  say  with  conscience  sure  
Had  any  man  received  such  boon  
No  doctors  could  his  life  secure;  
His  life  would  end  beneath  the  moon.  


XIX  

Even  as  the  moon  begins  to  rise  
Before  the  light  of  day  goes  down,  
I  was  aware,  to  my  surprise,  
In  this  great  place  of  such  renown  
Of  something  wondrous  to  my  eyes;  
A  great  procession  from  that  town  
Of  virgins  in  the  self  same  guise  
As  my  beloved  in  her  gown  
Crowned  were  they  all  with  that  same  crown  
And  clothed  in  pearls  and  garments  white  
And  on  them,  light  as  thistledown,  
The  beauteous  pearl  of  great  delight.  
In  great  delight  they  glided  there  
On  golden  streets  that  gleamed  like  glass,  
One  hundred  thousand  souls  there  were  
In  matching  dress  none  could  surpass;  
Their  happiness  defied  compare.  
The  Lamb  before  did  proudly  pass,  
With  seven  gold  trumpets  wondrous  fair  
His  pearly  dress  would  all  outclass.  
Around  the  throne  they  all  amass;  
The  throng  so  great,  the  press  so  slight.  
Gentle  as  maidens  seem  at  Mass  
So  went  they  forth  in  great  delight.  

The  delight  His  coming  did  import  
Is  far  too  great  for  man  to  tell,  
When  that  the  elders  of  his  court  
Prostrate  before  his  feet  ail  fell.  
Legions  of  gathering  angels  brought  
Incense  to  strew  of  sweetest  smell.  
Glory  and  joy  in  sweet  consort  
Sang  praises  such  as  could  compel  
That  sound  to  strike  through  earth  to  Hell,  
Which  Virtue's  angels  did  recite.  
To  love  the  Lamb  exceeding  well  
Seemed  then  to  me  a  great  delight.  

With  great  delight  I  gazed  upon  
The  Lamb,  and  marvelled  in  my  mind;  
The  best  and  gentlest  paragon  
For  words,  however  well  designed.  
So  wondrous  white  his  raiment  shone,  
His  look  so  clear,  himself  so  kind;  
But  sorely  wounded  was  he  on  
His  breast,  so  that  all  eyes  could  find  
On  his  white  breast  blood  ran  entwined.  
Alas,  thought  I,  what  man  in  spite  
Within  his  breast  shouid  be  inclined  
To  take  in  such  cause  some  delight?  

The  Lamb's  delight  none  could  gainsay  
Though  he  was  hurt,  and  wounded  sore;  
His  joyful  look  was  such  as  they  
Had  never  seen  on  earth  before.  
I  looked  and  saw  in  that  array  
That  everlasting  joy  they  wore.  
Then  saw  I  there  my  daughter  gay,  
Who  once  stood  near  me  long  before.  
Lord,  how  she  revelled  more  and  more  
Among  that  flock  who  were  so  white  !  
To  cross  that  water  then  I  swore  
For  love  of  her  in  my  delight.  





XX  

Delight  assailed  my  eye  and  ear  
Sheer  frenzy  stole  my  mind  away  
Seeing  her,  I  would  fain  draw  near,  
Though  o'er  that  water  she  must  stay  
I  thought  that  i  had  naught  to  fear  
No  blow,  I  thought,  could  bar  my  way  
That  none  could  keep  me  from  my  dear  
Though  with  my  life  I  needs  must  pay.  
But  something  caused  me  to  delay;  
Against  his  will  my  soul  conspires  
A  summons  came  I  must  obey;  
This  was  not  as  my  Frince  desires.  

It  pleased  him  not  that  I  should  throw  
My  body  headlong  in  that  way  
Though  in  my  haste  I  meant  to  go  
Yet  some  strange  summons  bade  me  stay;  
My  own  presumption  made  me  know  
My  dream  was  ended  with  that  day.  
Here  in  that  garden  down  below  
My  pearl  slipped  to  the  earth  away,  
And  I  was  filled  with  wild  dismay.  
I  stretch,  and  all  my  hope  expires;  
And  sighing,  to  myself  I  say,  
'Let  it  be  as  my  Prince  desires.'  

 It  stole  my  senses  clean  away  
To  be  thrust  from  that  heavenly  place  
From  all  those  sights  so  bright  and  gay.  
A  swoon  my  senses  did  efface  
And  then  in  sorrow  and  dismay,  
'O  pearl,'  I  cried,  'of  Heaven's  race,  
I  hold  all  dear  that  you  did  say  
Within  that  vision  full  of  grace;  
If  all  be  truth  that  you  embrace  
You  dwell  in  raiment  he  requires  
Happy  am  I  in  dungeon's  space,  
That  you  are  as  the  Prince  desires.'  

Had  I  done  all  my  Prince  desired  
And  longed  for  no  more  than  he  gave  
And  curbed  myself  as  he  required,  
As  said  my  pearl,  so  fair  and  brave,  
Attained  to  what  I  had  aspired  
Entered  that  presence  all  men  crave  
And  all  those  mysteries  acquixed;  
But  man  will  ever  be  the  slave  
Of  all  the  evils  that  deprave;  
Exiled  from  all  those  heavenly  shires;  
Lord,  they  are  mad  that  so  behave,  
Rejecting  what  the  Prince  desires.

To  please  the  Prince  and  him  requite  
Is  easy  for  the  Christian  man  
For  I  have  found  him  day  and  night  
A  God,  a  Lord,  who  ever  can  
Upon  this  hill  me  guide  aright  
In  pity  for  that  pearl  which  ran  
To  God,  who  gives  his  gifts  of  right  
And  to  Christ's  blessing  which  began  
With  bread  and  wine  his  mighty  plan  
The  priest  each  day  our  souls  inspires  
To  make  us  each  God's  artisan,  
Those  precious  pearls  my  Prince  desires.

Amen.  Amen.  
 



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