Classic Poem

In the Monkish legends hoary
Is there many a wondrous story
 Of the saints of elder time.

In some still hour of reflection
Come they like a recollection
 Of some half-forgotten rhyme.

Though by wiser times forbidden
Sober credence, in them hidden
 Many a noble lesson lies.

One of these my mind has haunted,
And my thoughts, unbidden, chanted
 While half-slumber held my eyes.

In the days long since departed
Lived a giant, noble-hearted,
 Who “The Greatest” king did seek.

Noticed he one day how faster
Came the breath of his proud master,
 And the color left his cheek,

When the Devil's name was spoken.
Knew he then by this dread token
 There was one his King did fear.

Sought he then until he found him,
And to his dread service bound him,
 Following him for many a year.

One day, in the stormy weather,
Marched they o'er the blackened heather,
 When the infernal host aside.

Sudden turned, confused and flurried,
And their trembling ranks they hurried
 On a détour far and wide.

Then, the giant stood and pondered
On his great King's fear, and wondered
 Much when he the reason guessed.

Standing where the highways parted,
'Twas a cross at which they started,
 And a greater King confessed.

Then, the wide world over, seeking
This new Lord, he wandered, speaking
 To each traveller he met.

Till one evening, dark and dreary,
To a hermit's hut, all weary,
 Came he when the sun was set.

Him he questioned: “Woe betide me!
Vainly seek I one to guide me
 To the Christ King's palace high.

“For I seek to serve the greatest;
And the king I followed latest
 Feared to pass his standard by.”

Answered then the hermit hoary:
“He thou seekest reigns in glory
 Far beyond those stars of night.

“But they serve him best who meekly
Bear the burden of the weakly,
 Fight the wrong, and help the right.

“Would you win and wear his guerdon,
Bend your strength beneath the burden
 Which the Christ's poor crushes down.

“From his throne in heaven bending,
He will watch you, and, descending,
 One day will your labor crown.”

Sought he then some service holy,
Where he might assist the lowly,
 And for timid ones be bold.

All his strength he consecrated
To the work, and thus he waited
 For the day the hermit told.

By a rapid, bridgeless river,
Treacherous-bottomed, rushing ever
 'Cross the pilgrims' Romeward way,

Massive-shouldered, danger-scorning,
On the shore sat night and morning
 Strong Oferos day by day.

On a piteous night and dreary,
When the wind seemed never weary
 Chasing the storm-driven cloud,

In a lull, above the sighing
Of the chafing tree-boughs, crying
 Rose a child-voice, wailing loud;

Begged him, for Christ's love, a stranger
To befriend, and through the danger
 Bear him 'cross the turbid flood.

Rose he then where he was sleeping,
When he heard the child-voice weeping,
 Peering through the dripping wood.

For, thought he, “My vow is taken,
If I sleep or if I waken,
 Ne'er to let one ask in vain.”

Though the storm and night were blinding,
Sought he then the child, and, finding,
 Gently soothed his grief and pain.

Danger only made him bolder;
While the child upon his shoulder
 Scarce a feather's weight did seem.

His strong staff in one hand grasping,
Closer still the fair child clasping,
 Strode he down into the stream.

Then, the night grew darker, moaning
For the lost stars, while the groaning
 Tree-tops wrestled with the blast.

And, when in the middle river,
Thought Oferos he had never
 Through such raging current passed.

Then,—a miracle, a wonder!
Scarcely could he stagger under
 The strange weight that now he bore.

Heavier grew the child, still crushing
Down his giant strength, while rushing
 Wilder yet the waters roar.

Wondering much the child concerning,
But untaltering, never turning,
 Straight he crossed the angry ford.

When, behold, no child forsaken,
But he sees, as one new waken,
 Stand before him Christ the Lord.

Round his head a radiance bright'ning
Lit the dark and paled the lightning,
 While the abashed storm fled away.

Then, the radiant east adorning,
Laughed through rainy tears the morning,
 And uprose the gladsome day.

Hushed was all the air and holy,
While the giant, bending lowly,
 Knelt before his great King's feet.

Gently spake He: “Blest forever
Be thy deeds and thine endeavor,—
 Both for holy sainthood meet!

“Thou Oferos , mighty bearer,
Hast been called: henceforth, a fairer,
 Grander title thine shall be.

“ Christoferos , down the ages,
Men shall call thee, while there rages
 Storm in sky or flood to sea;

“For the Christ-child thou hast carried,
While the torrent never tarried,
 And the storm was in the sky.

“Plant thy staff for sign, and growing
It shall be a tree, while flowing,
 Like the years, the stream goes by.

“For heaven knows no higher beauty
Than the doing one's plain duty
 For the love of man alone.

“And ‘The Greatest’ thou art serving
When thou seekest, all unswerving,
 Each man's welfare as thine own.”

As the years went by, and ever
Rushed adown the turbid river,
 Watched the old saint on the shore,

Learning that the lordliest doing
Is in day by day pursuing
 One's next duty evermore.