FROM "THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL." J. R. LOWELL. SIR Launfal turned from his own hard gate, An old, bent man, worn out and frail, He came back from seeking the Holy Grail;* No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare He sees the snake-like caravan crawl To where, in its slender necklace of grass, *The vessel used by the Saviour at the Last Supper. THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. And with its own self like an infant played, 183 "For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms"; The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone, And Sir Launfal said: "I behold in thee scorns, And to thy life were not denied The wounds in the hands and feet and side: Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me; Behold, through him, I give to thee!" Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes When he caged his young life up in gilded mail, He parted in twain his single crust, 'T was a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 'T was water out of a wooden bowl, Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, And 't was red wine he drank with his thirsty soul. As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, The leper no longer crouched at his side, Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate,— Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of God in Man. His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine, Which mingle their softness and quiet in one With the shaggy unrest they float down upon; And the voice that was calmer than silence said: "Lo, it is I, be not afraid! In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail; A PRAYER OF AFFECTION. Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; In whatso we share with another's need,- 185 Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three,— Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me." A PRAYER OF AFFECTION MRS. HEMANS. BLESSINGS, O Father, shower! Father of mercies! round his precious head! On his lone walks, and on his thoughtful hour, And the pure visions of his midnight bed, Blessings be shed! Father! I pray thee not For earthly treasure to that most beloved, Let such a sense of Thee, Thy watching presence, thy sustaining love, A heavenly light serene Upon his heart and mien May sit undimmed! a gladness rest, his own, Faintly remembered, and too swiftly flown! So let him walk with Thee, Made by thy spirit free; And when thou call'st him from his mortal place, To his last hour be still that sweetness given, That joyful trust! and brightly let him part, With lamp clear burning, and unlingering heart, Mature to meet in heaven His Saviour's face! |