The Legends of Saint Patrick Part 11

He from my mind removed the veil; "Lift up,"

He said, "thine eyes!" and like a mountain land The Queenly Science stood before me plain, From rocky b.u.t.tress up to peak of snow: The great Commandments first, Edicts, and Laws That bastion up man's life: --then high o'er these The forest huge of Doctrine, one, yet many, Forth stretching in innumerable aisles, At the end of each, the self-same glittering star: - Lastly, the Life G.o.d-hidden. Day by day, With him for guide, that first and second realm I tracked, and learned to shun the abyss flower-veiled, And scale heaven-threatening heights. This, too, he taught, Himself long time a ruler and a prince, The regimen of States from chaos won To order, and to Christ. Prudence I learned, And sageness in the government of men, By me sore needed soon. O stately man, In all things great, in action and in thought, And plain as great! To Britain called, the Saint Trod down that great Pelagian Blasphemy, Chief portent of the age. But better far He loved his cell. There sat he vigil-worn, In cowl and dusky tunic hued like earth Whence issued man and unto which returns; I marvelled at his wrinkled brows, and hands Still tracing, enter or depart who would, From morn to night his parchments.

There, once more, O G.o.d, Thine eye was on me, or my hand Once more had missed the prize. Temptation now Whispered in softness, "Wisdom's home is here: Here bide untroubled." Almost I had fallen; But, by my side, in visions of the night, G.o.d's angel, Victor, stood as one that hastes, On travel sped. Unnumbered missives lay Clasped in his hands. One stretched he forth, inscribed "The wail of Erin's Children." As I read The cry of babes, from Erin's western coast And Fochlut's forest, and the wintry sea, Shrilled o'er me, clamouring, "Holy youth, return!

Walk then among us!" I could read no more.

Thenceforth rose up renewed mine old desire: My kinsfolk mocked me. "What! past woes too scant!

Slave of four masters, and the best a churl!

Thy Gospel they will trample under foot, And rend thee! Late to them Palladius preached: They drave him as a leper from their sh.o.r.es."

I stood in agony of staggering mind And warring wills. Then, lo! at dead of night I heard a mystic voice, till then unheard, I knew not if within me or close by That swelled in pa.s.sionate pleading; nor the words Grasped I, so great they seemed and wonderful, Till sank that tempest to a whisper: --"He Who died for thee is He that in thee groans."

Then fell, methought, scales from mine inner eyes: Then saw I--terrible that sight, yet sweet - Within me saw a Man that in me prayed With groans unutterable. That Man was girt For mission far. My heart recalled that word, "The Spirit helpeth our infirmities; That which we lack we know not, but the Spirit Himself for us doth intercession make With groanings which may never be revealed."

That hour my vow was vowed; and he approved, My master and my guide. "But go," he said, "First to that island in the Tyrrhene Sea, Where live the high Contemplatives to G.o.d: There learn perfection; there that Inner Life Win thou, G.o.d's strength amid the world's loud storm: Nor fear lest G.o.d should frown on such delay, For Heavenly Wisdom is compa.s.sionate: Slowly before man's weakness moves it on; Softly: so moved of old the Wise Men's Star, Which curbed its lightning ardours and forbore Honouring the pensive tread of h.o.a.ry Eld, Honouring the burthened slave, the camel line Long-linked, with level head and foot that fell As though in sleep, printing the silent sands."

Thus, smiling, spake Germa.n.u.s, large in lore.

So in that island-Eden I sojourned, Lerins, and saw where Vincent lived, and his, Life fountained from on high. That life was Love; For all their mighty knowledge food became Of Love Divine, and took, by Love absorbed, Shape from his flame-like body. Hard their beds; Ceaseless their prayers. They tilled a sterile soil; Beneath their hands it blossomed like the rose: O'er thymy hollows blew the nectared airs; Blue ocean flashed through olives. They had fled From praise of men; yet cities far away Rapt those meek saints to fill the bishop's throne.

I saw the light of G.o.d on faces calm That blended with man's meditative might Simplicity of childhood, and, with both The sweetness of that flower-like s.e.x which wears Through love's Obedience twofold crowns of Love.

O blissful time! In that bright island bloomed The third high region on the Hills of G.o.d, Above the rock, above the wood, the cloud: - There laughs the luminous air, there bursts anew Spring bud in summer on suspended lawns; There the bell tinkles while once more the lamb Trips by the sun-fed runnel: there green vales Lie lost in purple heavens.

Transfigured Life!

This was thy glory, that, without a sigh, Who loved thee yet could leave thee! Thus it fell: One morning I was on the sea, and lo!

An isle to Lerins near, but fairer yet, Till then unseen! A gra.s.sy vale sea-lulled Wound inward, breathing balm, with fruited trees, And stream through lilies gliding. By a door There stood a man in prime, and others sat Not far, some grey; and one, a weed of years, Lay like a withered wreath. An old man spake: "See what thou seest, and scan the mystery well!

The man who stands so stately in his prime Is of this company the eldest born.

The Saviour in His earthly sojourn, Risen, Perchance, or ere His Pa.s.sion, who can tell, Stood up at this man's door; and this man rose, And let Him in, and made for Him a feast; And Jesus said, 'Tarry, till I return.'

Moreover, others are there on this isle, Both men and maids, who saw the Son of Man, And took Him in, and shine in endless youth; But we, the rest, in course of nature fade, For we believe, yet saw not G.o.d, nor touched."

Then spake I, "Here till death my home I make, Where Jesus trod." And answered he in prime, "Not so; the Master hath for thee thy task.

Parting, thus spake He: 'Here for Mine Elect Abide thou. Bid him bear this crozier staff; My blessing rests thereon: the same shall drive The foes of G.o.d before him.'" Answer thus I made, "That crozier staff I will not touch Until I take it from that nail-pierced Hand."

From these I turned, and clomb a mountain high, Hermon by name; and there--was this, my G.o.d, In visions of the Lord, or in the flesh? - I spake with Him, the Lord of Life, Who died; He from the glory stretched the Hand nail-pierced, And placed in mine that crozier staff, and said: "Upon that day when they that with Me walked Sit with Me on their everlasting Thrones, Judging the Twelve Tribes of Mine Israel, Thy People thou shalt judge in righteousness."

Forthwith to Rome I fled; there knelt I down Above the bones of Peter and of Paul, And saw the mitred emba.s.sies from far, And saw Celestine with his head high held As though it bore the Blessed Sacrament; Chief Shepherd of the Saviour's flock on earth.

Tall was the man, and swift; white-haired; with eye Starlike and voice a trumpet clear that pealed G.o.d's Benediction o'er the city and globe; Yea, and whene'er his palm he lifted, still Blessing before it ran. Upon my head He laid both hands, and "Win," he said, "to Christ One realm the more!" Moreover, to my charge Relics he gave, unnumbered, without price; And when those relics lost had been, and found, And at his feet I wept, he chided not; But, smiling, said, "Thy glorious task fulfilled, House them in thy new country's stateliest church By cresset girt of ever-burning lamps, And never-ceasing anthems."

Northward then Returned I, missioned. Yet once more, but once, That old temptation proved me. When they sat, The Elders, making inquest of my life, Sudden a certain brother rose, and spake, "Shall this man be a Bishop, who hath sinned?"

My dearest friend was he. To him alone One time had I divulged a sin by me Through ignorance wrought when fifteen years of age; And after thirty years, behold, once more, That sin had found me out! He knew my mission: When in mine absence slander sought my name, Mine honour he had cleared. Yet now--yet now - That hour the iron pa.s.sed into my soul: Yea, well nigh all was lost. I wept, "Not one, No heart of man there is that knows my heart, Or in its anguish shares."

Yet, O my G.o.d!

I blame him not: from Thee that penance came: Not for man's love should Thine Apostle strive, Thyself alone his great and sole reward.

Thou laid'st that hour a fiery hand of love Upon a faithless heart; and it survived.

At dead of night a Vision gave me peace.

Slowly from out the breast of darkness shone Strange characters, a writing unrevealed: And slowly thence and infinitely sad, A Voice: "Ill-pleased, this day have we beheld The face of the Elect without a name."

It said not, "Thou hast grieved," but "We have grieved;"

With import plain, "O thou of little faith!

Am I not nearer to thee than thy friends?

Am I not inlier with thee than thyself?"

Then I remembered, "He that touches you Doth touch the very apple of mine eye."

Serene I slept. At morn I rose and ran Down to the sh.o.r.e, and found a boat, and sailed.

That hour true life's beginning was, O Lord, Because the work Thou gav'st into my hands Prospered between them. Yea, and from the work The Power forth issued. Strength in me was none, Nor insight, till the occasion: then Thy sword Flamed in my grasp, and beams were in mine eyes That showed the way before me, and nought else.

Thou mad'st me know Thy Will. As taper's light Veers with a wind man feels not, o'er my heart Hovered thenceforth some Pentecostal flame That bent before that Will. Thy Truth, not mine, Lightened this People's mind; Thy Love inflamed Their hearts; Thy Hope upbore them as on wings.

Valiant that race, and simple, and to them Not hard the G.o.dlike venture of belief: Conscience was theirs: tortuous too oft in life Their thoughts, when pa.s.sionate most, then most were true, Heart-true. With naked hand firmly they clasped The naked Truth: in them Belief was Act.

A tribe from Thy far East they called themselves: Their clans were Patriarch households, rude through war: Old Pagan Rome had known them not; their Isle Virgin to Christ had come. Oh how unlike Her sons to those old Roman Senators, Scorn of Germa.n.u.s oft, who breathed the air Fouled by dead Faiths successively blown out, Or Grecian sophist with his world of words, That, knowing all, knew nothing! Praise to Thee, Lord of the night-time as the day, Who keep'st Reserved in blind barbaric innocence, Pure breed, when boastful lights corrupt the wise, With healthier fruit to bless a later age.

I to that people all things made myself For Christ's sake, building still that good they lacked On good already theirs. In courts of kings I stood: before mine eye their eye went down, For Thou wert with me. Gentle with the meek, I suffered not the proud to mock my face: Thus by the anchors twain of Love and Fear, Since Love, not perfected, gains strength from Fear, I bound to thee This nation. Parables I spake in; parables in act I wrought Because the people's mind was in the sense.

At Imbher Dea they scoffed Thy word: I raised Thy staff, and smote with barrenness that flood: Then learned they that the world was Thine, not ruled By Sun or Moon, their famed "G.o.d-Elements:"

Yea, like Thy Fig-tree cursed, that river banned Witnessed Thy Love's stern pureness. From the gra.s.s The little three-leaved herb, I stooped and plucked, And preached the Trinity. Thy Staff I raised, And bade--not ravening beast--but reptiles foul Flee to the abyss like that blind herd of old; Then spake I: "Be not babes, but understand: Thus in your spirit lift the Cross of Christ: Banish base l.u.s.ts; so G.o.d shall with you walk As once with man in Eden." With like aim Convents I reared for holy maids, then sought The marriage feast, and cried, "If G.o.d thus draws Close to Himself those virgin hearts, and yet Blesses the bridal troth, and infant's font, How white a thing should be the Christian home!"

Marvelling, they learned what heritage their G.o.d Possessed in them! how wide a realm, how fair.

Lord, save in one thing only, I was weak - I loved this people with a mother's love, For their sake sanctified my spirit to thee In vigil, fast, and meditation long, On mountain and on moor. Thus, Lord, I wrought, Trusting that so Thy lineaments divine, Deeplier upon my spirit graved, might pa.s.s Thence on that hidden burthen which my heart Still from its substance feeding, with great pangs Strove to bring forth to Thee. O loyal race!

Me too they loved. They waited me all night On lonely roads; and, as I preached, the day To those high listeners seemed a little hour.

Have I not seen ten thousand brows at once Flash in the broad light of some Truth new risen, And felt like him, that Saint who cried, flame-girt, "At last do I begin to be a Christian?"

Have I not seen old foes embrace? Seen him, That white-haired man who dashed him on the ground, Crying aloud, "My buried son, forgive!

Thy sire hath touched the hand that shed thy blood?"

Fierce chiefs knelt down in penance! Lord! how oft Shook I their tear-drop sparkles from my gown!

'Twas the forgiveness taught them all the debt, Great-hearted penitents! How many a youth Contemned the praise of men! How many a maid - O not in narrowness, but Love's sweet pride And love-born shyness--jealous for a mate Himself not jealous--spurned terrestrial love, Glorying in heavenly Love's fair oneness! Race High-dowered! G.o.d's Truth seemed some remembered thing To them; G.o.d's Kingdom smiled, their native haunt Prophesied then their daughters and their sons: Each man before the face of each upraised His hand on high, and said, "The Lord hath risen!"

Then, like a stream from ice released, forth fled And wafted far the tidings, flung them wide, Shouted them loud from rocky ridge o'er bands Marching far down to war! The sower sowed With happier hope; the reaper bending sang, "Thus shall G.o.d's Angels reap the field of G.o.d When we are ripe for heaven." Lovers new-wed Drank of that water changed to wine, thenceforth Breathing on earth heaven's sweetness. Unto such More late, whate'er of brightness time or will Infirm had dimmed, shone back from infant brows By baptism lit. Each age its garland found: Fair shone on trustful childhood faith divine: Eld, once a weight of wrinkles now upsoared In venerable lordship of white hairs, Seer-like and sage. Healed was a nation's wound: All men believed who willed not disbelief; And sat in that oppugnancy steel-mailed: They cried, "Before thy priests our bards shall bow, And all our clans put on thy great Clan Christ!"

For your sake, O my brethren, and my sons These things have I recorded. Something I wrought: Strive ye in loftier labours; strive, and win: Your victory shall be mine: my crown are ye.

My part is ended now. I lived for Truth: I to this people gave that truth I knew; My witnesses ye are I grudged it not: Freely did I receive, freely I gave; Baptising, or confirming, or ordaining, I sold not things divine. Of mine own store Ofttimes the hire of fifteen men I paid For guard where bandits lurked. When prince or chief Laid on G.o.d's altar ring, or torque, or gold, I sent them back. Too fortunate, too beloved, I said, "Can he Apostle be who bears Such scanty marks of Christ's Apostolate, Hunger, and thirst, and scorn of men?" For this, Those pains they spared I spared not to myself, The body's daily death. I make not boast: What boast have I? If G.o.d His servant raised, He knoweth--not ye--how oft I fell; how low; How oft in faithless longings yearned my heart For faces of His Saints in mine own land, Remembered fields far off. This, too, He knoweth, How perilous is the path of great attempts, How oft pride meets us on the storm-vexed height, Pride, or some sting its scourge. My hope is He: His hand, my help so long, will loose me never: And, thanks to G.o.d, the sheltering grave is near.

How still this eve! The morn was racked with storm: 'Tis past; the skylark sings; the tide at flood Sighs a soft joy: alone those lines of weed Report the wrath foregone. Yon watery plain Far shines, a mingled sea of gla.s.s and fire, Even as that Beatific Sea outspread Before the Throne of G.o.d. 'Tis Paschal Tide; - O sorrowful, O blissful Paschal Tide!

Fain would I die on Holy Sat.u.r.day; For then, as now, the storm is past--the woe; And, somewhere 'mid the shades of Olivet Lies sealed the sacred cave of that Repose Watched by the Holy Women. Earth, that sing'st, Since first He made thee, thy Creator's praise, Sing, sing, thy Saviour's! Myriad-minded sea, How that bright secret thrills thy rippling lips Which shake, yet speak not! Thou that mad'st the worlds, Man, too, Thou mad'st; within Thy Hands the life Of each was shapen, and new-wov'n ran out, New-willed each moment. What makes up that life?

Love infinite, and nothing else save love!

Help ere need came, deliverance ere defeat; At every step an angel to sustain us, An angel to retrieve! My years are gone: Sweet were they with a sweetness felt but half Till now;--not half discerned. Those blessed years I would re-live, deferring thus so long The Vision of Thy Face, if thus with gaze Cast backward I might SEE that guiding hand Step after step, and kiss it.

Happy isle!

Be true; for G.o.d hath graved on thee His Name: G.o.d, with a wondrous ring, hath wedded thee; G.o.d on a throne divine hath 'stablished thee: - Light of a darkling world! Lamp of the North!

My race, my realm, my great inheritance, To lesser nations leave inferior crowns; Speak ye the thing that is; be just, be kind; Live ye G.o.d's Truth, and in its strength be free!

This day to Him, the Faithful and the True, For Whom I toiled, my spirit I commend.

That which I am, He knoweth: I know not now: But I shall know ere long. If I have loved Him I seek but this for guerdon of my love With holier love to love Him to the end: If I have vanquished others to His love Would G.o.d that this might be their meed and mine In witness for His love to pour our blood A glad stream forth, though vultures or wild beasts Rent our unburied bones! Thou setting sun, That sink'st to rise, that time shall come at last When in thy splendours thou shalt rise no more; And, darkening with the darkening of thy face, Who worshipped thee with thee shall cease; but those Who worshipped Christ shall shine with Christ abroad, Eternal beam, and Sun of Righteousness, In endless glory. For His sake alone I, bondsman in this land, re-sought this land.

All ye who name my name in later times, Say to this People, since vindictive rage Tempts them too often, that their Patriarch gave Pattern of pardon ere in words he preached That G.o.d who pardons. Wrongs if they endure In after years, with fire of pardoning love Sin-slaying, bid them crown the head that erred: For bread denied let them give Sacraments, For darkness light, and for the House of Bondage The glorious freedom of the sons of G.o.d: This is my last Confession ere I die.

NOTES.

{10a} Cotton MSS., Nero, E.'; Codex Salisburiensis; and a MS. in the Monastery of St. Vaast.

{10b} The Book of Armagh, preserved at Trinity College, Dublin, contains a Life of St. Patrick, with his writings, and consists in chief part of a description of all the books of the New Testament, including the Epistle of Paul to the Laodiceans. Traces found here and there of the name of the copyist and of the archbishop for whom the copy was made, fix its date almost to a year as 807 or 811-812.

{77} The Isle of Man.

{101} Now Limerick.

{111} Foynes.

{116} The Giant's Causeway.