A mighty wave of love burst over the world from Christ's open grave, and the wan-nailed form upon the tree stirred up the souls of men to its lowest depths. The old world felt the force of the child born in the manger, and
"Lust of the eye and pride of life
She left it all behind,
And hurried, torn with inward strife,
The wilderness to find.
"Tears wash'd the trouble from her face!
She changed into a child.
'Mid weeds and wrecks she stood-a place
Of ruin-but she smiled!"
Eighteen centuries have run their course, and the great apostle of culture tells us that men no longer believe
"Now he is dead. Far hence he lies
In the lorn Syrian town,
And on his grave, with shining eyes,
The Syrian stars look down."
"Your creeds are dead, your rites are dead, Your social order too.
Where tarries he, the power who said: See, I make all things new?"
That Christianity has lost its power we do not believe. The Star that shone in the East still illuminates the world, and the precepts from the Mount still influence the lives of men. In the march of progress dogmas and narrow superstitions which hid the living truths from men have alone perished. The age we live in is one of inquiry and examination, but inquiry and examination cannot affect truth. A modern writer has well said, the spirit of inquiry and examination is in itself a good spirit. It is an angel which God has sent to us, though in the darkness we take it for an enemy. If, instead of fleeing from it in cowardice, we wrestle manfully with it with zeal, with purity of heart, with a determination to live according to the truth which we discover, then the angel will bless us when the day breaketh.
KING Arthur, when his Table Round Had filled the world with waves of sound, Which still were broadening more and more, Nor yet had broken on the shore That limits scope of human praise,- King Arthur in those golden days, As Pentecost was coming on, Betook him to Kinkenadon, Within his sea-beat castle wall To hold high state and festival. Now yearly on that holy day The King was used to delay
From hour to hour the tempting feast, Till from the North, South, West, or East, Appeared some marvel to behold;-
For full of marvels manifold
The pregnant mouths were numbered then, Nor much at marvels wondered men; But, when a day without them passed, That day seemed dull and overcast. So at that time, like one amazed, King Arthur through the casement gazed: He watched the breaking lights of dawn, The growing of the purple morn; He felt the warmth about him play That only burns in noontide's ray; He saw the sun sink low in heaven, And still no sign to him was given, Till fleeing from the shadows black That sun athwart the waves a track
Had gilded for the raptured eye To trace in dreamful ecstasy,
With some vague thought of blissful isles Basking in joy's perennial smiles.
Then, as he turned him from the glare
Of sunset, Arthur was aware
Of a strange company of four
That hied them to the castle door. One as a poplar tall and straight
Weakly declined his helpless weight
Upon a serf on either hand,
That scarce with labour made him stand; A dwarf his faltering steps behind,
The puniest of his puny kind,
Upheld; a stunted pollard he
To stay that stately poplar tree.
Then, smiling on his famished lords, The King spake brief but welcome words: "To dinner! Lo, a sight indeed!
The saints have helped us at our need." Then swelled the sound of revelry, And flowed the wine right royally, And light reflected from the bowl Shone like a sun in every soul
Save Arthur's: in his heart there burned A curious longing: oft he turned An absent glance upon the door,
And marvelled ever more and more
What the strange thing that he had seen Before his castle-gate might mean.
At last, the tedious banquet o'er, About his dais came the four, And he their goodly leader spake: "I come, O King, my prayer to make That I thy bounty may partake. Three are the boons I crave to name- The first I fain to-day would claim;
The two shall be disclosed anon, If only thou wilt grant the one." So saying with an effort slight He drew him to his princely height; The King, admiring, inly sware That comelier person none was there, And musing thus mild answer made: "In whatsoever I can aid
Thy just desire, that aid is thine; For, if thy lineage I divine,
A scion thou of noble line;
Or arms or knighthood thou wilt crave, And arms and knighthood thou shalt have." "Nor arms, nor knighthood at thy hand, O bounteous King, is my demand As at this time, but food and cheer Of thy provision for a year." Then Arthur with o'erclouded brow That did his thoughts but half avow: "That is a thing, as all may know, I never stinted friend or foe.
Sir Kay shall feed thee of the best That lines my larder. For the rest I pray thee of thy courtesy
That thou reveal thy name." But he- "My name, O King, I may not tell." Then blurted out Sir Kay: "Tis well! Thy hands, if not thy tongue, a name Shall furnish; they shall give thee fame, Not by their handling of the spear, But by their useless beauty dear To women. Beaumains be thou hight. No touch, I trow, of lord or knight Quickens thy boorish blood derived From yokels still with yokels wived. Come, I see hunger in thy face; The kitchen be thy dwelling-place:
I warrant thee, within the year, Plump as a hog with fattening cheer Of brewis! Come, thy paradise
Awaits thee: shall I bid thee twice?"
He spake, and scornful led the way: The other meekly did obey
His bidding, neither gibe nor taunt Provoking him to answering vaunt. But, ere he went, a look he cast Upon his retinue, who passed In silence through the open door Into the night, and came no more.
Meanwhile, Sir Kay had Beaumains set Among the scullions, and had met Great-hearted Lancelot and Gawaine, Who chid him for that he did stain His knighthood with discourtesy: And Lancelot to the scullery
Went softly, and to Beaumains there Made proffer of less sordid fare And lodging meet for such as be Of knightly birth and high degree. But he, though from his kindling face His grateful thought did half erase His sorrow, answered, where Sir Kay Had placed him, there would he assay To bear whatever might befall.
So for a year before them all He bore him with humility, And suffered jeers and raillery
With patience: nay, there were who said That passion in his soul was dead: But they who watched his flushing cheek, His lips that trembled fain to speak, His downcast eye and hands that sought Each other-they had other thought. So in the lap of flowery May Was born again the holy day
« AnteriorContinuar » |