Who near his fountains sought obscure repose, Yet were prepared as glorious lights to shine, Should that be needed for their sacred charge; Blest prisoners they, whose spirits are at large ! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. THE VAUDOIS TEACHER. "The manner in which the Waldenses and heretics disseminated their principles among the Catholic gentry was by carrying with them a box of trinkets or articles of dress. Having entered the houses of the gentry, and disposed of some of their goods, they cautiously intimated that they had commodities far more valuable than these, - inestimable jewels, which they would show if they could be protected from the clergy. They would then give their purchasers a Bible or Testament, and thereby many were deluded into heresy."-R. SACCHO, Inquisitor of the twelfth century. 66 "O LADY fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and rare, The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's queen might wear ; And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose radiant light they vie; I have brought them with me a weary way, — will my gentle lady buy?" And the dy smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering curls Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks and glittering pearls ; And she placed their price in the old man's hand, and lightly turned away, But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call," My gentle lady, stay!" "O lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer lustre flings, Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown on the lofty brow of kings, A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue shall not decay, Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a blessing on thy way!" The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her form of grace was seen, Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks waved their clasping pearls between ; Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou traveller gray and old, And name the price of thy precious gem, and my page shall count thy gold." The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a small and meagre book, Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folding robe he took! "Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove as such to thee! Nay-keep thy gold - I ask it not, for the word of God is free!" The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift he left behind Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high-born maiden's mind, And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the lowliness of truth, And given her human heart to God in its beautiful hour of youth! And she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil faith had power, The courtly knights of her father's train, and the maidens of her bower; And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales by lordly feet untrod, Where the poor and needy of earth are rich in the perfect love of God! JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER LE COLPORTEUR VAUDOIS. The following translation of Mr. Whittier's poem into French was made by PROF. G. DE FELICE, of Montauban, France, and it is said by the Rev. J C. Fletcher to be taught to every Protestant child in France. A letter of thanks was written to Mr. Whittier in 1875 in the name of the Waldensian church, so highly is his poem prized by the primitive people amid the fastnesses of the Alps. OH! regardez, ma noble et belle dame, La noble dame, à l'âge où l'or est vaine, Que te faut-il, vieillard? des mains d'un page Mais l'étranger. d'une voix plus austère, Si vous aviez ma perle de grande prix ! THE LEAK IN THE DIKE. - Montrez-la moi, vieillard, je t'en conjure; Je ne vends pas ce trésor, je te donne; Il est à vous: le ciel vous aide adieu! Il s'éloigna. Bientôt la noble dame Lut et relut le livre du Vaudois, Et du Sauveur elle comprit la voix; G. DE FELICE. SAINT BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX. In the shade of the cloister, long ago,- By a blameless life and penance hard And oft, as silence on them fell, He would pause, and listen, and whisper low, "There is one who waits for me in my cell; I hear him calling, and I must go!" No charm of human fellowship His soul from his dearest love can bind; With a "Jesu dulcis" on his lip, He leaves all else that is sweet behind. The only hand that he longs to take, Ah! men and brethren, he whose call Drew that holy monk with a power divine, Was the One who is calling for us all, Was the friend of sinners,-yours and mine! From the sleep of the cradle to the grave, From the first low cry till the lip is dumb, Ready to help us, and strong to save, He is calling, and waiting till we come. 135 Lord! teach us always thy voice to know. And to turn to thee from the world beside, Prepared, when our time has come to go, Whether at morn or eventide. And to say when the heavens are rent in twain, When suns are darkened, and stars shall flee, Lo! thou hast not called for us in vain, And we shall not call in vain for thee! PHOEBE CARY. THE LEAK IN THE DIKE. A STORY OF HOLLAND. THE good dame looked from her cottage 'Come, Peter come! I want you to go While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike. for me; And take these cakes I made for him, They are hot and smoking yet; Then the good-wife turned to her labor, And thought of her husband, working hard And set the turf a-blazing, And brought the coarse black bread; That he might find a fire at night, And find the table spread. And Peter left the brother, With whom all day he had played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade; And told them they'd see him back before Though he would n't be afraid to go With eye and conscience clear; And now, with his face all glowing, And eyes as bright as the day With the thoughts of his pleasant errand, He trudged along the way; And soon his joyous prattle Made glad a lonesome place Alas! if only the blind old man Could have seen that happy face! Yet he somehow caught the brightness Which his voice and presence lent; And he felt the sunshine come and go As Peter came and went. And now, as the day was sinking, And birds to their homes come back, Along the level track But she said: "He will come at morning, But where was the child delaying? And across the dike while the sun was up He was stopping now to gather flowers, "That the gates are good and strong, "I know why you fret and chafe ; You would like to spoil our lands and homes; But our sluices keep you safe!" But hark! through the noise of waters Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; And the child's face pales with terror, And his blossoms drop to the ground. He is up the bank in a moment, And, stealing through the sand, He sees a stream not yet so large As his slender, childish hand. 'Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes; But, young as he is, he has learned to know The dreadful thing that means. A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart And the bravest man in all the land For he knows the smallest leak may grow And the boy! he has seen the danger, He forces back the weight of the sea Of a footstep passing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground, to catch And he hears the rough wind blowing, His feeble voice is lost; Yet what shall he do but watch and wait, Though he perish at his post! So, faintly calling and crying Till the sun is under the sea; He thinks of his brother and sister, Of himself as dying - and dead; They must come and find him at last ; But he never thinks he can leave the place Where duty holds him fast. The good dame in the cottage Is up and astir with the light, As yester eve she had done; But what does she see so strange and black Her neighbors are bearing between them As he ever came before! "He is dead!" she cries; "my darling!" And comes and looks the way she looks, Thrills the stricken man and wife, And every head was bared and bent In tearful, reverent joy. THE TWINS. 'Tis many a year since then; but still, Remembered through the years; Is named with loving tears. And his deed shall be sung by the cradle, The mighty pyramids of stone That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, When nearer seen, and better known, Are but gigantic flights of stairs. The distant mountains, that uprear Their solid bastions to the skies, Are crossed by pathways, that appear As we to higher levels rise. 137 The heights by great men reached and kept Standing on what too long we bore HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. THE TWINS. "Give, and it shall be given unto you GRAND rough old Martin Luther Do roses stick like burrs? "A beggar asked an alms One day at an abbey-door," Said Luther; "but, seized with qualms, The Abbot replied, 'We 're poor! "Poor, who had plenty once, When gifts fell thick as rain : But they give us nought, for the nonce, And how should we give again? "Then the beggar, 'See your sins! Ye had brothers for inmates, twins, "Only, beware relapse!' The Abbot hung his head. This beggar might be, perhaps, ROBERT BROWNING. MARTIN LUTHER. A Chamber in the Wartburg Morning. MARTIN LUTHER writing. MARTIN LUTHER. OUR God, a tower of Strength is he, The old evil foe Doth in earnest grow, Much guile and great might; O yes; a tower of strength indeed, A sword and buckler is our God. Safe, yes, safe am I here at last, Safe from the overwhelming blast Of the mouths of Hell, that followed me fast, Of our own might we nothing can ; Who is he? ye exclaim; Very God in troth; The field he holds forever. Nothing can vex the Devil more Than the name of Him whom we adore. Therefore doth it delight me best Us they comfort and allure, This world may full of devils be, This World's Prince, howe'er That such weak flesh and blood as we, He summons forth the Pope of Rome His shorn and shaven retinue Of priests and children of the dark; Yesterday in an idle mood, From crags of the distant mountain chain, |