 | The Dawn in Britain |  |
Summer is in, when the dear brother Malchus,
Freedman of Mnason, but now heir, with Christ,
Of God's eternal kingdom, languishes,
In misty air of Alban. Malchus, child,
Keeping, (then Mati named,) in stony field,
Of Edom, kids, was reft of Ishmaelites;
Which him, loud weeping, on a camel, bound.
Then driving on, before, their cattle-preys;
The third day, lateward, in East wilderness,
Those robbers, to their hungry booths, arrived.
Freedman of Mnason, but now heir, with Christ,
Of God's eternal kingdom, languishes,
In misty air of Alban. Malchus, child,
Keeping, (then Mati named,) in stony field,
Of Edom, kids, was reft of Ishmaelites;
Which him, loud weeping, on a camel, bound.
Then driving on, before, their cattle-preys;
The third day, lateward, in East wilderness,
Those robbers, to their hungry booths, arrived.
Next moon, when sent those down, to buy breadcorn,
(Selling what camels they had reaved and captives,)
To Mnason's father, merchant-man of grain,
At Gaza, was the bondchild Mati sold:
Who orphan; having none, of his nigh kin,
Which might redeem him; many faithful years,
Served forth his master's house, at the sea-side.
(Selling what camels they had reaved and captives,)
To Mnason's father, merchant-man of grain,
At Gaza, was the bondchild Mati sold:
Who orphan; having none, of his nigh kin,
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Served forth his master's house, at the sea-side.
Past now is Pentecost; and have gathered in
The saints, their harvest, which is tardy, in Britain;
But yieldeth, to these reapers, hundred fold.
They, kneeling, all, his lowly bed around,
Anoint, with oil, now night-time, brother Malchus;
Who speechless, dying, them beholds and smiles.
The saints, their harvest, which is tardy, in Britain;
But yieldeth, to these reapers, hundred fold.
They, kneeling, all, his lowly bed around,
Anoint, with oil, now night-time, brother Malchus;
Who speechless, dying, them beholds and smiles.
At eve, they bare him forth; and his dead face,
Seemeth, even as this sun's setting, radious.
And say, communing mongst them, the Lord's saints;
How, in his ending, had the Lord, to Malchus,
Revealed Himself; showing, that should His kingdom,
Be established, erelong, even in Utmost Britain!
Wherein, (among them, first,) should rest his flesh.
Seemeth, even as this sun's setting, radious.
And say, communing mongst them, the Lord's saints;
How, in his ending, had the Lord, to Malchus,
Revealed Himself; showing, that should His kingdom,
Be established, erelong, even in Utmost Britain!
Wherein, (among them, first,) should rest his flesh.
Follow his bier, the outlaws, to lake side;
Where all take bark, with Hyn, the magistrate:
And row, over the mere, to certain croft;
Where lawful is, to lay who dead in Alban.
Britons, which loved the man, have digged there grave.
Then Pistos spake; how, like to precious seed,
Is this dead corse, till that great day of Christ;
When shall our brother Malchus be upraised!
Where all take bark, with Hyn, the magistrate:
And row, over the mere, to certain croft;
Where lawful is, to lay who dead in Alban.
Britons, which loved the man, have digged there grave.
Then Pistos spake; how, like to precious seed,
Is this dead corse, till that great day of Christ;
When shall our brother Malchus be upraised!
Lo, closed is this first tomb; and all fare forth.
And, hark, how singeth, in his measures, sweet,
The son of Sigon, the high heavenly Rest,
And Malchus, father, gone to blissful place;
Where neither thirst, nor hunger, cold nor aches.
And all take up the burden of his verse,
That o'er the moonlight mere, row, drooping, forth.
Some think, they see stand spirits on lake shore,
And Malchus clothed, in raiment of white light!
Then ferries, each one, silent, to his own.
And, hark, how singeth, in his measures, sweet,
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And Malchus, father, gone to blissful place;
Where neither thirst, nor hunger, cold nor aches.
And all take up the burden of his verse,
That o'er the moonlight mere, row, drooping, forth.
Some think, they see stand spirits on lake shore,
And Malchus clothed, in raiment of white light!
Then ferries, each one, silent, to his own.
But harvest past; when wane the pleasant days,
And wasteful winds make bare the russet woods;
And herdmen fold, in stovers, sere and rough,
One noon, with many more from the cranog,
Again, comes, in frail bark, that agéd Sigon.
In the boat's stem, sits, chanting, his son Cuan,
Of the New Life. And all these wend, to Joseph,
To be baptized. They washed, then, rise from death.
Thus, for one dead, were many made alive.
And wasteful winds make bare the russet woods;
And herdmen fold, in stovers, sere and rough,
One noon, with many more from the cranog,
Again, comes, in frail bark, that agéd Sigon.
In the boat's stem, sits, chanting, his son Cuan,
Of the New Life. And all these wend, to Joseph,
To be baptized. They washed, then, rise from death.
Thus, for one dead, were many made alive.
| The Dawn in Britain | |