PART IV.
Ten long days’ travel Marien went, O’er woodland and o’er wold, Teaching and preaching by the way, Like Jesus Christ of old.
Sometimes within the baron’s hall A lodging she would find, And never went she from the door But blessings staid behind; Proud foes forgiven, revenge withheld, And plenteous peace of mind.
With shepherd people on the hills; With toiling peasant men, She sate; with women dwelling lone, On mountain or in glen.
By wayside wells she sate her down, With pilgrims old and bent; Or, hand in hand, with children small, To the village school she went.
She made them spare the singing birds All in their leafy bowers; She made them love all living things; And praise God for the flowers.
But now she came to where there raged Wild war throughout the land;
She heard the vexed people’s cry; She saw the ravaged corn-fields lie; The hamlets smoking to the sky; And everywhere careering by The spoiler’s savage band.
All hearts were changed. Like ravening wolves Men preyed upon each other; Dead children lay on the bloody mould; And pitiless had grown, and cold, The heart of many a mother.
Wild shouts and horrid shrieks around Filled all the air; the earth Reeked with the blood that had been spilt; And man made mockery and mirth Of agony and mortal woe:-- Yet through all this did Marien go.
Outraged of heart, the child went on, Weeping upon her way; And now she soothed a dying wretch; Then for another ran to fetch Water; and every day Did deeds of mercy good and mild:-- Thus journeyed on the pitying child.
On went she,--and as she went on, Men grew ashamed of blood, So beautiful did mercy seem; And the wild soldier rude Slunk back as slinks a noisome beast;
And to their homes once more Came mothers with their little ones; And old men, weak and hoar, Sate in the sun as they had wont, Unfearing at the door.
On went the child,--and as she went, Within the Baron’s hall, Were hung up helm and mail and sword, To rust upon the wall.
On went she,--and the poets sung No longer war’s acclaim, But holy hymns of love and joy, To hail her as she came.
On went she, like an angel good; With bounding steps she went, Day after day, until she came To the great Conquerer’s tent.
There sat he, a strong man of blood, Steel-mailed and scarfed with blue, Poring o’er charts of distant lands, For new lands to subdue.
Beside him stood the gentle child; And now he traced with care, Measuring from river unto sea, A fertile region fair.
“’Tis a good land,” said Marien, “From river unto sea; And there a quiet people dwell, Who never heard of thee.
“They feed their flocks and herds in peace; The fruitful vine they till; The quiet homes their fathers built They and their children fill.
“Even now their happy children’s joy Thee and thy will condemn; Wherefore should’st thou possess that land? God gave it unto them!”
Into her face the proud man looked, Amazed at what he heard; Then turned unto his charts again, And answered never a word.
Another land among the hills He measured with his eye; “’Tis a stern land,” said Marien, “A land of liberty!
“There fled the Christians in old time, And built their churches there; The bells upon the sabbath morn Call all that land to prayer.
“Would’st thou God’s people tribulate? A cursed thing it were To make that Christian land of love A bloody sepulchre!” The proud man turned him round about And fiercely gazed at her.
“Rivers of blood have flowed for thee!” Unblenching Marien said, “And many a Christian land hast thou With Christian blood made red.
“Up, sin no more! ’Tis coming now, The day thou canst not flee, When all the thousands thou hast slain God will require of thee!
“Thou man of blood, repent, repent, Repent whilst yet thou may, And store up deeds of love and peace Against that awful day!”
Up from his seat the conquerer rose, And paced the uneasy tent, And ground his teeth and groaned aloud, As one that doth repent.
Forth from the tent sped Marien; And many a summer’s day Throughout a blessed land of peace She journeyed on her way.