PART II.

Now Marien in the woman’s house Abode a little space, And comfort to the mother came; And a dear daughter’s place Had Marien in the woman’s heart, Doing the while a daughter’s part.

But now ’twas time that she must go; For Marien’s duty was not there, Now grief was past and woe was done; So, with the rising of the sun, She rose up forth to fare.

“Nay, bide with me,” the woman said, “Or, if as thou dost say, Duty forbids that this may be, I a day’s journey go with thee, To speed thee on the way.”

So forth the loving pair set out, The woman and the child; And first they crossed the desert heath, And then the mountains wild.

And in the woman’s arms she lay, That night within the forest hoar, And the next morn, with loving heart, They said farewell, as those who part To meet on earth no more.

Upon her way went Marien, From morn till set of day, And the peace of God that passeth word, Upon her spirit lay, And oftimes she sang aloud As she went on her way.

The joyfulest song sang Marien That e’er left human tongue; The very birds were mute to hear The holy words she sung.

But now the darksome night came on, And Marien lay her down Within a little way-side cave, On mosses green and brown.

And in the deepest hush of night Rude robbers entered in; And first they ate and drank, then rose To do a deed of sin.

For with them was a feeble man, Whom they had robbed, and they Here came to foully murder him, And hide him from the day.

Up from her bed sprang Marien, With heavenly power endued; And in her glorious innocence, Stood ’mong the robbers rude.

“Ye shall not take the life of man!” Spake Marien low and sweet; “For this will God take strict account, Before his judgment seat!”

Out from the cave the robbers fled, For they believed there stood, A spirit stern and beautiful, Not aught of flesh and blood.

And two from out the robber-band Thenceforward did repent, And lived two humble Christian men, On righteous deeds intent.

When from the cave the robber-band Had fled, the aged man Rose from the floor where he was laid, And marvelling much, began.

“Who art thou, child? and those few words Of might which thou hast spoken, What may they be? My foes have fled-- And lo! my bonds are broken; At thy few words my foes have fled, My rigid bonds have broken!”

Then Marien ’gan to tell him how, Through her God’s power had wrought; And him from peril, nigh to death, Thus wondrously had brought.

She told him how holy Daniel’s faith The caged beasts disarmed; How the three righteous children walked Through raging fire unharmed.

She told how Peter, bound with chains, Lay in the prison-ward, How God’s good angel freed him straight, And the strong prison’s iron gate Oped of its own accord.

“God knows our wants,” said Marien “And in our sorest need, Puts forth his arm to rescue us, For he is merciful, and thus It is that thou art freed.”

“Let us go hence!” the old man said, And o’er the forest sod, They, hand in hand, with quiet steps, Went forward praising God.

Ere noontide, to a forest grange They came, a sylvan place, Where trooped, no longer fearing man, The forest’s native race, The white doe and the antlered stag, And every beast of chase.

’Twas joy to see them drawing near The old man as he came; And this he stroked, and that he called By some familiar name.

’Twas joy unto the little child This little pleasant place to see; “This is my home,” he said, “and here Thou shalt abide with me.”

“I have no child to be mine heir, And I am growing old;-- Thou shalt be heir to all my lands, And heir of all my gold.

“Thou shalt be comfort to mine age, And here within this wood, ’Mongst faithful, gentle things, shalt thou Grow up to womanhood!

There dwelt the lovely Marien; Within the forest wild, And she unto the lone old man Was dearer than a child.

There dwelt the lovely Marien, Yet not long dwelt she there;-- The old man died;--and then came forth A kinsman for the heir.

A lean and rugged man of pelf, In wickedness grown old; From some vile city-den he came And seized upon the gold;-- He slew the tamed forest-beasts,-- The forest-grange he sold.

And with hard speeches, coarse and rude, Away the child he sent; Meek Marien answered not a word, But through the forest went.