Classic Poem

PART VII.

Then forth they brought her; gave her wine
And pleasant food to eat;
And " Rest thee, Marien, in our arms, "
Sung syren voices sweet.

" Rest thee within our arms; refresh
Thy fainting soul with wine;
Eat and be glad; forget the past,
And make all pleasure thine! "

" Tempt me not! " said the feeble child,
" Take hence your spiced bowl;
Is't not enough to rack my limbs,
But you must vex my soul?

" Look at my flesh, which ye have torn;
Look at your bloody rack; —
Take hence your gifts, and let me go
To my own people back.

" To my own people let me go,
A bruised and broken reed:
I for your purpose am unmeet;
Let me go hence with speed. "

So, in her weakness, prayed the child;
But those remorseless men,
More dead than living, bore her back
Unto their prison-den.

Into a noisome prison-house,
With iron doors made fast,
'Mong felons and 'mong murderers
Was gentle Marien cast.

Upon the hard, cold prison floor,
Sick unto death she lay,
As if God had forsaken her,
For many a weary day.

She thought of her sweet forest life,
And of those creatures small,
Weak, woodland creatures, tamed by love,
That came unto her call.

She thought of him, the forest-lord,
And of the forest-grange;
Of the delicious life she led,
With liberty to range.

And as she thought, even as a child's,
The ceaseless tears did flow,
For torturing pain and misery,
Had brought her spirit low.

When one from out the felon band
Came softly to her side,
And " Do not weep, thou little child! "
With pitying voice, he cried.

" At sight of thee, I know not why,
My softened heart doth burn,
And the gone tenderness of youth
Doth to my soul return.

" I think upon my early days,
Like unto days of heaven;
And I, that have not wept for years,
Even as a child, shed ceaseless tears,
And pray to be forgiven! "

" Blessed be God! " said Marien,
And rose up from the floor;
" I was not hither brought in vain!
His mercy I adore,
Who out of darkness brought forth light! "
And thus she wept no more.

But ever of the Saviour taught;
How he came down to win,
With love, and suffering manifold,
The sinner from his sin.

How, not to kings and mighty men
He came, nor to the wise,
But to the thief and murderer,
And those whom men despise.

And how, throughout the host of heaven
Goes yet a louder praise
O'er one poor sinner who doth turn
From his unrighteous ways,
Than o'er a hundred godly men,
Who sin not all their days.

Thus with the felons she abode,
And that barred prison rude
Was as if angels dwelt therein,
And not fierce men of blood;
For God had her captivity
Turned into means of good.

Now all this while sweet Marien's friends,
Who in the town remained,
Of her took painful thought, resolved
Her freedom should be gained.

And at the last they compassed it,
With labor long and great;
And through the night they hurried her
Unto the city gate.

There many a mother stood, and child,
Weeping with friendly wo,
Thus, thus to meet, as 'twere from death.
And then to bid her go.

To bid her go, whom so they loved,
Nor once more see her face;
To bid her go; to speed her forth
To some more friendly place.

Thus, amid blessings, prayers, and tears,
About the break of day,
She left the city, praising God
For her release; and swiftly trod
Upon her unknown way.