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THE YOUNGER SON.
The younger son to his father spake:
“My home is weary grown;
Give me the portion of thy goods
Will one day be mine own.
“My home is weary grown;
Give me the portion of thy goods
Will one day be mine own.
“Let me go out into the world;
I long its joys to share;
I long to spend my youthful years
Among the free and fair.”
I long its joys to share;
I long to spend my youthful years
Among the free and fair.”
“My son! my son!” the old man said,
With low, prophetic voice,
“Tarry at home in quietness;
Thine is an evil choice.
With low, prophetic voice,
“Tarry at home in quietness;
Thine is an evil choice.
“Tarry at home in quietness;
I have but children twain,
And ye are dear as is my life!”
—The old man spoke in vain.
I have but children twain,
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—The old man spoke in vain.
Then up he went to his iron chest,
That was locked with an iron key,
And took seven bags of fine red gold,
And three of the white monie.
That was locked with an iron key,
And took seven bags of fine red gold,
And three of the white monie.
“And this,” he said, “is half my wealth;”
And he took them one by one,
And set them down, a goodly row,
Before his younger son.
And he took them one by one,
And set them down, a goodly row,
Before his younger son.
“I gained it, boy, without a crime;
I hoarded it for thee;
And as by honest means it came,
So let its spending be.”
I hoarded it for thee;
And as by honest means it came,
So let its spending be.”
In the city is a festive stir,
And riot fills the air,
And who, beside the younger son,
Can make such revel there?
And riot fills the air,
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Can make such revel there?
A hundred guests go thronging up
A lordly staircase bright;
And that young man, throughout his hall,
Hears dancing feet so musical
Make merry sound all night.
A lordly staircase bright;
And that young man, throughout his hall,
Hears dancing feet so musical
Make merry sound all night.
Each day on couches rich he lies,
With gold cloth at his feet;
And dainty meats are carved for him,
When he sits down to eat.
With gold cloth at his feet;
And dainty meats are carved for him,
When he sits down to eat.
He drinks his wine from a golden cup;
With a free hand spends his store;
Thou prodigal, be warned in time,
Thy seven bags are but four!
With a free hand spends his store;
Thou prodigal, be warned in time,
Thy seven bags are but four!
There are one and twenty gentlemen
Around the table sitting:
Ah, younger son! dare not that throw;
Each villain doth his business know,
And it is thy outwitting.
Around the table sitting:
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Each villain doth his business know,
And it is thy outwitting.
He has thrown the dice, he has lost the game!
And now he sits apart,
With burning anger on his brow,
And madness in his heart.
And now he sits apart,
With burning anger on his brow,
And madness in his heart.
He lifts the wine-cup to his lips,
A fevered man is he;
He drains it, and he filleth still,
And drinketh desperately!
A fevered man is he;
He drains it, and he filleth still,
And drinketh desperately!
“Ho, fellow!” saith the midnight watch,
Within the city street;
“Whence comest at this late hour?” they ask
Of one they nightly meet.
Within the city street;
“Whence comest at this late hour?” they ask
Of one they nightly meet.
'Tis he, 'tis he, the younger son,
How changed in mood and frame!
And now he leads a sinful life,
A sinful life of shame.
How changed in mood and frame!
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A sinful life of shame.
And he hath spent the seven bags,
That were filled up to the brim;
And the three alone of white money
Are only left to him.
That were filled up to the brim;
And the three alone of white money
Are only left to him.
Well, younger son, since so it is,
Thine evil ways amend;
And, where thou spent a thousand pounds,
A penny thou now must spend.
Thine evil ways amend;
And, where thou spent a thousand pounds,
A penny thou now must spend.
Thy years are few, and thou art strong;
Come, yield not to dismay!—
Thou fool!—hast with a madman's hand
Thy last mite thrown away?
Come, yield not to dismay!—
Thou fool!—hast with a madman's hand
Thy last mite thrown away?
Now God have mercy on thy need!
With man is little grace;
For they, with whom thou spent thy gold,
Will mock thee to thy face.
With man is little grace;
For they, with whom thou spent thy gold,
Will mock thee to thy face.
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He heard the laugh, as he went by;
He saw them turn aside,
As from a creature pestilent;
And in each place, where'er he went,
He met the taunt of pride.
He saw them turn aside,
As from a creature pestilent;
And in each place, where'er he went,
He met the taunt of pride.
They would not give, they would not lend;
They mocked him one and all;
Then passed he through the city gate,
And laid him down, as day grew late,
Without the city wall.
They mocked him one and all;
Then passed he through the city gate,
And laid him down, as day grew late,
Without the city wall.
Now, younger son, can this be thou?
Dost herd among the swine?
Thine eyes are meek, thy brow is pale,
An altered heart is thine.
Dost herd among the swine?
Thine eyes are meek, thy brow is pale,
An altered heart is thine.
And thou hast bowed to solemn thoughts
That through thy spirit ran,
As in the wilds thou sat'st apart,
A solitary man.
That through thy spirit ran,
As in the wilds thou sat'st apart,
A solitary man.
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Ay, prodigal, sweet tears are these;
And this stripped heart is sent
By God, in token of his grace:
Look up, poor penitent!
And this stripped heart is sent
By God, in token of his grace:
Look up, poor penitent!
Bethink thee of thy father's house,
Heaven's holy peace is there:
The very servants of that place
Have bread enough to spare.
Heaven's holy peace is there:
The very servants of that place
Have bread enough to spare.
Up, thou dost perish in this wild!
And there is one doth keep
Watch for thee with a yearning love,
A memory fond and deep.
And there is one doth keep
Watch for thee with a yearning love,
A memory fond and deep.
—The younger son rose up, and went
Unto his native place;
And bowed, a meek, repentant man,
Before his father's face.
Unto his native place;
And bowed, a meek, repentant man,
Before his father's face.
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