The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose Now First Collected with a Prefatory Memoir by his Nephews W. E. and Sir Bartle Frere |
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 | The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose |  |
FROM THE SPANISH OF GONZALO DE BERCEO.
Vida de San Millan, Stanzas 57, 63-65, 77 and 78.
He walk'd those mountains wild, and lived within that nook
For forty years and more, nor ever comfort took
Of offer'd food or alms, or human speech or look;
No other saint in Spain did such a penance brook.
For forty years and more, nor ever comfort took
Of offer'd food or alms, or human speech or look;
No other saint in Spain did such a penance brook.
And there I saw, myself, for so the chance befell,
Upon the mountain ledge, beside a springing well,
A hermitage of stone, a chapel and a cell,—
It is not yet destroy'd; he built it, as they tell.
Upon the mountain ledge, beside a springing well,
A hermitage of stone, a chapel and a cell,—
It is not yet destroy'd; he built it, as they tell.
For many a painful year he pass'd the seasons there,
And many a night consumed in penitence and prayer—
In solitude and cold, with want and evil fare,
His thoughts to God resign'd, and free from human care.
And many a night consumed in penitence and prayer—
In solitude and cold, with want and evil fare,
His thoughts to God resign'd, and free from human care.
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Oh, sacred is that place, the fountain and the hill,
The rocks where he reposed, in meditation still;
The solitary shades, through which he roved at will,
His presence all that place with sanctity did fill.
The rocks where he reposed, in meditation still;
The solitary shades, through which he roved at will,
His presence all that place with sanctity did fill.
In every act a saint, in life's every feature,
Of controverted points no teacher or repeater;
Call'd by the voice of God, from the first hand of nature,
From childhood to his end, a pure and holy creature.
Of controverted points no teacher or repeater;
Call'd by the voice of God, from the first hand of nature,
From childhood to his end, a pure and holy creature.
In such guise as he could, and in such poor array,
Where or whence he had it, in truth, I cannot say,
He came down from the hills, and went forth on his way,
The road across the plain, to where the city lay.
Where or whence he had it, in truth, I cannot say,
He came down from the hills, and went forth on his way,
The road across the plain, to where the city lay.
There, leaning on his staff, he enter'd in the town,
His eyes upon the earth, his forehead bending down;
His beard was deep and large, his locks all overgrown,
So strange and rude a form they ne'er had seen anon.
His eyes upon the earth, his forehead bending down;
His beard was deep and large, his locks all overgrown,
So strange and rude a form they ne'er had seen anon.
| The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose | |