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VII.

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VIII.

Not now

I hope to do it - some scat

ter'd ears, I had sat three nights by the child - I could not watch her for four

Some ears for Christ in this wild field of

Wales My brain had begun to reel — I felt I

This could do it no more.

But, bread, merely for bread. That was my sleeping-night, but I thought They said with such heretical arrogance

tongue that wagg'd that it never would pass. There was a thunder-clap once, and a

Against the proud archbishop Arundel

So much God's cause was fluent in it clatter of hail on the glass,

is here And there was a phantom cry that I

But as a Latin Bible to the crowd ; heard as I tost about,

Bara !" - what use? The motherless bleat of a lamb in the

The Shepherd,

when I speak, storin and the darkness without; My sleep was broken besides with dreams Veiling a sullen eyelid with his hard of the dreadful knife

“ Dim Saesneg " passes, wroth at things

of old And fears for our delicate Emmie who scarce would escape with her life ; No fault of mine. Had he God's word

in Welsh Then in the gray of the morning it seem'd she stood by me and smiled,

He might be kindlier : happily come the And the doctor came at his hour, and we

day! went to see the child.

Not least art thou, thou little Betble

hem In Judah, for in thee the Lord was born ;

Nor thou in Britain, little Lutterworth, He had brought his ghastly, tools: we Least, for in thee the word was born believed her asleep again

again. Her dear, long, lean, little arms lying out on the counterpane;

Heaven-sweet Evangel, ever living Say that His day is done! Ah why word,

should we care what they say ? Who whilom spakest to the South in The Lord of the children had heard her,

Greek and Emmie had past away. About the soft Mediterranean shores,

And then in Latin to the Latin crowd,

As good need was thou hast come to SIR JOHN OLDCASTLE, LORD

talk our isle.
COBHAM.
.

Hereafter thou, fulfilling Pentecost,

Must learn to use the tongues of all the (IN WALES.)

world.

Yet art thou thine own witness that thou My friend should meet me somewhere bringest hereabout

Not peace, a sword, a fire. To take me to that hiding in the hills.

What did he say,

My frighted Wiclif-preacher whom I crost I have broke their cage, no gilded one, In Aying hither? that one night a crowd I trow

Throng'd the waste tield about the city I read no more the prisoner's mute wail

gates : Scribbled or carved upon the pitiless The king was on them suddenly with a

host. I find hard rocks, hard life, hard cheer, Why there ? they came to hear their or none,

preacher. Then For I am emptier than a friar's brains ; Some cried on Cobham, on the good Lord But God is with me in this wilderness,

Cobham ; These wet black passes and foam-churn- Ay, for they love me! but the king ing chasms,

nor voice And God's free air, and hope of better Nor finger raised against him- took and things.

hang'd, I would I knew their speech; not now Took, hang'd and burnt – how many – to glean

thirty-nine

stone;

my life

Call'd it rebellion – hang'd, poor friends, | Lord give thou power to thy two witas rebels

nesses! And burn'd live as heretics ! for your Lest the false faith make merry over Priest

them! Labels

- to take the king along with Two — nay but thirty-nine have risen and him

stand, All heresy, treason : but to call men Dark with the smoke of human sacrifice, traitors

Before thy light, and cry continually May make men traitors.

Cry - against whom ?
Rose of Lancaster,

Him, who should bear the sword Red in thy birth, redder with household | Of Justice what! the kingly, kindly war,

boy ; Now reddest with the blood of holy men, who took the world so easily heretofore, Redder to be, red rose of Lancaster My boon companion, tavern-fellow — him If somewhere in the North, as Rumor Who gibed and japed — in many a merry sang

tale Fluttering the hawks of this crown-lust- That shook our sides at Pardoners, ing line

Summoners, By firth and loch thy silver sister grow, Friars, absolution-sellers, monkeries That were my rose, there my allegiance And nunneries, when the wild hour and due.

the wine Self-starved, they say — nay, murder'd : Had set the wits aflame. doubtless dead.

Harry of Monmouth, So to this king I cleaved : my friend was Or Amurath of the East? he.

Better to sink Once my fast friend : I would have given Thy fleurs-de-lys in slime again, and fling

Thy royalty back into the riotous fits To help his own from scathe, a thousand Of wine and harlotry — thy shame, and lives

mine, To save his soul. He might have come 'Thy comrade — than to persecute the to learn

Lord, Our Wiclif's learning : but the worldly And play the Saul that never will be Paul.

Priests Who fear the king's hard common-sense Burnt, burnt! and while this mitred should find

Arundel What rotten piles uphold their mason Dooms our unlicensed preacher to the work,

flame, Urge him to foreign war. O had he willd The mitre-sanction'd harlot draws his I might have stricken a lusty stroke for clerks him.

Into the suburb — their hard celibacy, But he would not; far liever led my friend Sworn to be veriest ice of pureness, molten Back to the pure and universal church, Into adulterous living, or such crimes But he would not : whether that heirless As holy Paul - a shame to speak of flaw

them In his throne's title make him feel so Among the heathen frail,

Sanctuary granted He leans on Antichrist; or that his mind, To bandit, thief, assassin — yen to him So quick, so capable in soldiership, Who hacks his mother's throat - lenied In matters of the faith, alas the while !

to him, More worth than all the kingdoms of this Who finds the Saviour in his mother world,

tongue. Runs in the rut, a coward to the Priest. The Gospel, the Priest's pearl, flung

down to swine Burnt - good Sir Roger Acton, my The swine, lay-men, lay-women, who dear friend!

will come, Burnt too, my faithful preacher, Bever- God willing, to outlearn the filthy friar. ley!

Ah rather, Lord, than that thy Gospel, 1 Richard II.

meant

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me, I

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To course and range thro' all the world, (Hath he been here not found me should be

gone again? Tether’d to these dead pillars of the Have I mislearnt our place of meeting?) Church

“ Bread Rather than so, if thou wilt have it so, Bread left after the blessing ?” how they Burst vein, snap sinew, and crack heart, stared, and life

That was their main test-question — Pass in the tire of Babylon ! but how long, glived at me! O Lord, how long !

• He veil'd llimself in flesh, and now He My friend should meet me here.

veils Here is the copse, the fountain and — a His flesh in bread, body and bread toCross!

gether.” To thee, dead wood, I bow not head vor Then rose the howl of all the cassock'd knees.

wolves, Rather to thee, green boscage, work of “No bread, no bread. God's body !” God,

Archbishop, Bi-hop, Black holly, and white-flower'd wayfaring Priors, Canons, Friars, bell-ringers, tree !

Parish-clerks — Rather to thee, thou living water, drawn “No bread, no bread !” –“ Authority of By this good Wiclif mountain down from

the Church, heaven,

Power of the keys !”. Then I, God help And speaking clearly in thy native tongue

So mock'd, so spurn'd, so baited two whole No Latin He that thirsteth, come and days drink!

I lost myself and fell from evenness,

And rail'd at all the Popes, that ever Eh ! how I anger'd Arundel asking

since

Sylvester shed the venom of world-wealth To worship Holy Cross! I spread mine Into the church, had only prov’n them. arms,

selves God's work, I said, a cross of flesh and Poisoners, murderers. Well — God par. blood

don all And holier. That was heresy. (My good Me, them, and all the world friend

proud Priest, By this time should be with me.) “Im That mock-meck mouth of utter Anti

christ, “Bury them as God's truer images That traitor to King Richard and the Are daily buried.” Heresy. – Pen

truth,
ance ?''
“Fast,

Who rose and doom'd me to the fire.
Hairshirt and scourge
- nay, let a man

Amen! repent,

Nay, I can burn, so that the Lord of life Do penance in his heart, God hears him.” Be by me in my death. · Heresy

Those ihree! the fourth Not shriven, not saved ?” “What profits Was like the soul of God. Not burnt an ill Priest

were they. Between me and my God? I would not On them the smell of burning had not Spirn

past. Good comsel of good friends, but shrive That was a miracle to convert the king. myself,

These Pharisees, this Caiaphas-Arundel No, not to an Apostle.” “ Heresy." What miracle could turn ? De here again, (My friend is long in coming.) “Pil Ile thwarting their traditions of Himgrimages?"

self, “Drink, bagpipes, revelling, devil's He would be found a heretic to Himself, dances, vice.

And doom'd to burn alive. The poor man's money gone to fat the friar.

So, caught, I burn Who reads of begging saints in scrip Burn? heathen men hare borne as much ture?"-" Heresy

as this,

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the queen

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For freedom, or the sake of those they | To meet me, roar'd my name; the king,

loved. Or some less cause, some cause far less Bade me be seated, speak, and tell them

than mine; For every other cause is less than mine. The story of my voyage, and while I The moth will singe her wings, and spoke singed return,

The crowd's roar fell as at the “ Peace, Her love of light quenching her fear of be still ! pain

And when I ceased to speak, the king, How now, my soul, we do not heed the fire ?

Sank from their thrones, and melted into Faint-hearted ? tut! . faint-stomach'd !

tears, faint as I am,

And knelt, and lifted hand and heart God willing, I will burn for Him.

and voice

In praise to God who led me thru' the Who comes ?

waste. A thousand marks are set upon my head. And then the great “ Laudamus Friend? foe perhaps - a tusslo for it

heaven. then! Nay, but my friend. Thou art so well Chains for the Admiral of the Ocean ! disguised,

chains I knew thee not. Hast thou brought For him who gave a new heaven, a new bread with thee?

earth, I have not broken bread for fifty hours. As holy John had prophesied of me, None? I am damn'd already by the Gave glory and more empire to the kings Priest

Of Spain than all their battles! chains For holding there was bread where bread

for him

Who pusli'd his prows into the setting No bread. My friends await me yonder ?

sun, Yes.

And made West East, and sail'l the Lead on then. Up the mountain? Is it Dragon's mouth, far?

And came upon the Mountain of the Not far. Climb first and reach me down

World, thy hand

And saw the rivers roll from Paradise ! I am not like to die for lack of bread, For I must live to testify by fire.

Chains ! we are Admirals of the Ocean,

we,

We and our sons forever. Ferdinand COLUMBUS.

Hath sigu'd it and our Holy Catholic

queen Chains, my good lord: in your raised Of the Ocean — of the Indies — Admirals

brows I read Some wonder at our chamber ornaments. Our title, which we never me:in to yield, We brought this iron from our isles of Our guerdon not alone for what we did, gold.

But our amends for all we might have

done Does the king know you deign to visit The vast occasion of our stronger life — him

Eighteen long years of waste, seven in Whom once he rose from off his throne

your Spain, to greet

Lost, showing courts and kings a truth the Before his people, like his brother king?

babe I saw your face that morning in the crowd. Will suck in with his milk hereafter

earth At Barcelona – tho' you were not then

A sphere. So bearded. Yes. The city deck'd her. self

Were you at Salamanca? No.

We fronted there the learning of all I He was burnt on Christmas Day, 1417.

Spain,

we

den guess

not

Alat;

appeal

All their cosmogonies, their astronomies : On Guanahani! but I changed the name; Guess-work they guessed it, but the gol. San Salvador I call'd it ; and the light

Grew as I gazed, and brought out a Is morning-star to the full round of truth.

broad sky No guess-work! I was certain of my Of dawning over — not those alien palms, goal ;

The marvel of that fair new nature Some thought it heresy; that would not hold.

That Indian isle, but our most ancient King David callid the heavens a hide, a East, tent

Moriah with Jerusalem ; and I saw Spread over earth, and so this earth was The glory of the Lord flash up, and

beat Some cited old Lactantius : could it be Thro' all the homely town from jasper, That trees grew downward, rain fell up sapphire, ward, men

Chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, sardius, Walk'd like the fly on ceilings ? and be- Chrysolite, beryl, topaz, chrysoprase, sides

Jacinth, and amethyst — and those twelve The great Augustine wrote that none gates, could breathe

Pearl - and I woke, and thought — death Within the zone of heat; so might'there

I shall die be

I am written in the Lamb's own Book of Two Adams, two mankinds, and that was

Life clean

To walk within the glory of the Lord Against God's word : thus was I beaten Sunless and moonless, itter light – but back,

no! And chiefly to my sorrow by the Church, The Lord had sent this bright, strange And thought to turn my face from Spain, dream to me

To mind me of the secret vow I made Once more to France or England ; but When Spain was waging war against the our Queen

Moor Recalld me, for at last their Highnesses I strove myself with Spain against the Were half-assured this earth might be a

Moor. sphere.

There came two voices from the SepulAll glory to the all-blessed Trinity,

chre, All glory io the mother of our Lord, Two friars crying that if Spain should And Holy Church, from whom I never swerved

The Moslem from her limit, he, the fierce Not even by one hair's-breadth of heresy, Soldan of Egypt, would break down and I have accomplish'd what I came to do.

The blessed tomb of Christ; whereon I Not yet - not all last night a dream

vow'd - I saila

That, if our Princes harken’d to my On my first voyage, harass'd by the

prayer, frights

Whatever wealth I brought from that new Of my first crew, their curses and their world groans.

Should, in this old, be consecrate to lead The great flame-banner borne by Tene. A new crusade against the Saracen. riffe,

And free the Holy Sepulchre from thrall. The compass, like an old friend false at last

Gold ? I had brought your Princes gold In our most need, appall’d them, and the enough wind

If left alone! Being but a Genovese, Still westward, and the weedy seas - I am handled worse than had I been a length

Moor, The landbird, and the branch with ber- And breach'd the belting wall of Cam. ries on it,

balu, The carven staff — and last the light, the And given the Great Khan's palaces to light

the Moor,

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