 | The Finding of The Book and Other Poems |  |
49
THE OLD MAN AND THE SHIP
AN ARMENIAN LEGEND
'Tis sunset, and the wind is blowing fair;
Her anchor soon the good ship will be weighing,
Toward the cross above the harbour stair
The mariners are praying.
Her anchor soon the good ship will be weighing,
Toward the cross above the harbour stair
The mariners are praying.
The sky was flaming westward, and the flood
Was flashing all afire by bay and cape,
Till their dazed eyes upon the awful rood
Could scarce discern the shape
Was flashing all afire by bay and cape,
Till their dazed eyes upon the awful rood
Could scarce discern the shape
That all day long they saw from off the ship—
The imaged Man of Sorrows on the Tree,
With blood-drop on the brow, and thin white lip
Above the pitiless sea.
The imaged Man of Sorrows on the Tree,
With blood-drop on the brow, and thin white lip
Above the pitiless sea.
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Now they averr'd that some resplendence came
And on the carven hair and face did smite,
Till in a furnace as of silver flame
The whole was lost in light.
And on the carven hair and face did smite,
Till in a furnace as of silver flame
The whole was lost in light.
And in the glory as it disappear'd
Suddenly hung an agèd Pilgrim there;
White as the snow was his majestic beard,
White as the snow his hair.
Suddenly hung an agèd Pilgrim there;
White as the snow was his majestic beard,
White as the snow his hair.
No thorny crown was on his ample brow,
No blood-drops issuing from wounded palm,
Divinely was the bitter passion now
Changed into passionless calm.
No blood-drops issuing from wounded palm,
Divinely was the bitter passion now
Changed into passionless calm.
The fierce light faded then above, below,
And on the deck the sailors were aware
Of an old man, with beard as white as snow.
Sweet was his pleading prayer:
And on the deck the sailors were aware
Of an old man, with beard as white as snow.
Sweet was his pleading prayer:
‘The land I seek is very far away—
Long have I tarried on this shore remote—
My brothers, ye are bound for it to-day,
Oh, take me in your boat!
Long have I tarried on this shore remote—
My brothers, ye are bound for it to-day,
Oh, take me in your boat!
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‘So shall I sooner see its mountain line,
Its immemorial forests’ purple dome,
And hear the musical murmurings divine
Of rivers round my home.
Its immemorial forests’ purple dome,
And hear the musical murmurings divine
Of rivers round my home.
‘Those rivers run in crystal ever clearer,
Sweetly baptising bluer violets,
And those eternal mountain-tops are nearer
Some sun that never sets.
Sweetly baptising bluer violets,
And those eternal mountain-tops are nearer
Some sun that never sets.
‘Silver and gold for guerdon have I none,
But prayers, deep prayers, I offer for my freight,
Such as Heaven's gentle heart have often won,
When man hath said “Too late!”’
But prayers, deep prayers, I offer for my freight,
Such as Heaven's gentle heart have often won,
When man hath said “Too late!”’
The mariners replied: ‘Our ship is large
And words are light, and merchants must be paid;
A ship like this, with all her heavy charge,
Is not for prayers,’ they said.
And words are light, and merchants must be paid;
A ship like this, with all her heavy charge,
Is not for prayers,’ they said.
Then stepp'd the old man down upon the sand,
Wind-sifted, sparkling as the mountain sleet,
And scoop'd it with his thin and feeble hand,
And flung it at his feet.
Wind-sifted, sparkling as the mountain sleet,
And scoop'd it with his thin and feeble hand,
And flung it at his feet.
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And down it fell in spangles on the shore,
A marvellous dust of silver and of gold,
Nor ceased until the mariners twice o'er
The greybeard's freight had told.
A marvellous dust of silver and of gold,
Nor ceased until the mariners twice o'er
The greybeard's freight had told.
Blind souls of men refusing their true bliss,
God's highest offers, and yet sweetly still
He bribes them by these lower gifts of His,
Against their own proud will!
God's highest offers, and yet sweetly still
He bribes them by these lower gifts of His,
Against their own proud will!
So to the bark once more the pilgrim pass'd.
Out sail'd the gallant vessel homeward bound,
But evermore in silence by the mast
The pilgrim might be found.
Out sail'd the gallant vessel homeward bound,
But evermore in silence by the mast
The pilgrim might be found.
While the ship raced upon an even keel
And floated buoyant as an ocean bird,
Upon the deck, or up beside the wheel,
No voice of his was heard.
And floated buoyant as an ocean bird,
Upon the deck, or up beside the wheel,
No voice of his was heard.
Only sweet virtues grew beneath his eye—
Both Charity and Hope, which are Heaven's sole
Prime roses, and Humility, the shy
Meek violet of the soul.
Both Charity and Hope, which are Heaven's sole
Prime roses, and Humility, the shy
Meek violet of the soul.
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Only at vesper-tide, from time to time,
Invisible angels, from the starlit stair,
Touch'd all their spirits to a more sublime
And an intenser prayer.
Invisible angels, from the starlit stair,
Touch'd all their spirits to a more sublime
And an intenser prayer.
Only by night, what time they cross'd the pale
Moonlight into the darkness, high and higher
Each topmast seem'd a cross, and its white sail
Was snow'd with sacred fire.
Moonlight into the darkness, high and higher
Each topmast seem'd a cross, and its white sail
Was snow'd with sacred fire.
At last a storm rush'd down upon the flood,
And the tyrannic winds sang loud and strong;
The pilot cried, ‘Beneath this dreadful scud
No vessel can live long.’
And the tyrannic winds sang loud and strong;
The pilot cried, ‘Beneath this dreadful scud
No vessel can live long.’
Soon rose surmise who might the pilgrim be,
His passage-money how he came to win:
‘God's wrath,’ they thought, ‘is working in the sea
Because of this man's sin.’
His passage-money how he came to win:
‘God's wrath,’ they thought, ‘is working in the sea
Because of this man's sin.’
Whereat the old man rose, and, ‘Through the storm
Give me your ship,’ he said, and straight did take
Mysterious likeness to the wondrous Form
On Galilee's wild lake.
Give me your ship,’ he said, and straight did take
Mysterious likeness to the wondrous Form
On Galilee's wild lake.
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‘Sleep sweetly while the ocean works and stirs,
Sleep sweetly till we cross the seething bar,
Sleep on, and take your rest, O mariners,
For mine own crew ye are.’
Sleep sweetly till we cross the seething bar,
Sleep on, and take your rest, O mariners,
For mine own crew ye are.’
So look'd He upward with His calm bright eye,
So made the holy sign with His right hand,
His left upon the helm—immediately
The ship was at the land.
So made the holy sign with His right hand,
His left upon the helm—immediately
The ship was at the land.
But as the ship with all sail set was steer'd
Bravely into the port around the cape,
No more might ye have seen a silver beard,
No more an old man's shape.
Bravely into the port around the cape,
No more might ye have seen a silver beard,
No more an old man's shape.
But calm He stood, as when He wears His crown
Upon the Calvary on some southern peak,
Or where above the altar He looks down,
With blood-drops on His cheek.
Upon the Calvary on some southern peak,
Or where above the altar He looks down,
With blood-drops on His cheek.
And those who knew the Cross so far away,
Toward which they pray'd above the harbour stair,
Said that its perfected reflection lay
Upon the Pilgrim there.
Toward which they pray'd above the harbour stair,
Said that its perfected reflection lay
Upon the Pilgrim there.
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So the shore redden'd with the holy dawn,
And the bells chimed from all the churches round,
And the long surf's fall on the beach was drawn
Into one psalm-like sound.
And the bells chimed from all the churches round,
And the long surf's fall on the beach was drawn
Into one psalm-like sound.
And, ‘Rise from your sweet sleep,’ the hymn outrang,
‘From your sad dream, or from your slumber sweet;
Here is our Lord, and here our ship,’ they sang,
‘Oh, fall at Jesus’ feet!’
‘From your sad dream, or from your slumber sweet;
Here is our Lord, and here our ship,’ they sang,
‘Oh, fall at Jesus’ feet!’
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