Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1871-12-06
VOL. XII.
The Legend Beautiful.

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BY HENRY W. LOnGFELLow
- Hadst thou stayed, must have fed !"
That Is what the Vision said
In his chamber all alone,
Kneeling or the floor of stone:
Prayed the Monk in deep eontrition
For his sins OF indecision,
Prayed for greater self-denial,
In temptation and in trial;
It was MONDAY by the dial,
And the Monk was all alone.
Suddenly, as if it 1ightened,
An unwonted splendor frightened
All within him and without him
In that narrow cell of stone;
And he saw the Blessed Vision
Of our Lord, with light Elysian,
gfke GESTURE trapped about him,
Like . rarnent round him thrown.
crrssieed and slain,
not ia aagonies Of pain,
Not with bleeding hands and feet,
Did the Monk his Master see;
But as in the village street,
In the house or harvest field,
Halt and lame and blind he bealed,
When he walked in Gahlee.
In an attitude imploring,
Hands upon his bosom crossed,
Wondering, worshipping, adoring,
Knelt the Monk in rapture lost.
Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest,
Who am I, that thus thou deignest
To reveal thyself 20 me?
Who am I. that rom the centre
OF the glory, thou shouldst enter
This poor cell, my guest to be-?
Then amid his exaltation,
Loud the convent bell appalling,
From it's belfry calling, calling,
Rang through court and corridor,
With persistent iteration
He had never heard before.
1t was now the appointed hour
When alike, in shine or shower,
Winters cold, or summers heat,
To the convent portals came
All the blind and halt and lame.
All the beggars OF the street,
For their daily dole of food
Dealt them by the brotherhood;
And their almoner was he,
Who upon his Bonded knee,
Wrapped in silent ecstacy
Of divinest self-surrender,
Saw the Vision and the Splendor.
Deep distress and hesitation
Mingled with his alteration;
Should he go, or should ne stay
Should he leave the poor to wait
Hungry at the convent gate,
Till the Vision passed away?
Should he slight his heavenly guest,
Slight his visitant celestial,
For a crowd of ragged, bestial
Beggars at the convent gate?
Would the Vision there remain?
Would the Vision come again
Then voice within his breast
Whispered, audibly and clear,
As if to the outward ear:
Do thy dnty: that is best;
Leave unto the Lord the rest !"
Straightway to his feet he started,
And with longing look intent
On tEe Blessed Vision bent,
Slowly from his cell departed,
Slowly Oh his errand went.
At the gate the poor were waiting,
Looking through the iron grating,
With that terror in the eye
That is only seen in those
Who a q id their wants and woes,
Hear the sound of doors that close,
And of feet that pass them by;
Grown familiar with disfavor,
Grown familiar with the SAVIOR
Of the bread by which men die
Like the gate OF Paradise
Seemed the convent gate to rise,
Like a sacrdfuEut GfTiuG,
Seemed to them the bread and wines
In his heart the Monk was praying,
Thinking of the homeless poor,
What they suffer and endure;
What we see not, what we see;
And the inward voice was saying:
Z Whatsoever thing thou doest
To the least of mine and lowest,
That thou doest unto mel"
Unto me but had the Vision
Come to him in beggar's clothing,
Come mendicant imploring,
Would he then hive knelt adoring,
Or have listened with derision,
And have turned away with loathing?
Thus his conscience put the question,
Full of troublesome suggestion,
As at length, with hurried pace,
Towards his cell he turned his face,
And beheld the convent bright
With supernatural light,
Like luminous cloud expanding
Over floor and wall and ceiling.
But he paused with awe-struck feeling
At the Threshold of his door,
For the Vision still was standing
As he left it there before,
When the convent bell appalling,
From its belfrv calling, calling,
Summoned him to feed the poor.
Through the long hour intervening
1t had waited his return,
And he felt his bosom purn,
Comprehending all the meaning,
When the Blessed Vision said,
SO Hadst thou stayed, I must have fed ?"
Atlantic M0nthty for December.