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CARLOVAN.
I. PART I.
A lowly child was Carlovan, a child of ten years old;
His eye was dark and thoughtful, his spirit kind and bold.
No wealth had he, young Carlovan, save his father's book of prayer,
And the golden ring, of little worth, which his dead mother ware.
He had no home, young Carlovan, an orphan child was he;
And yet no rich man said to him, “Come, be a son to me.”
There was no one to counsel him, no friend to hear his moan;
And Carlovan rose up and went into the world alone.
His eye was dark and thoughtful, his spirit kind and bold.
No wealth had he, young Carlovan, save his father's book of prayer,
And the golden ring, of little worth, which his dead mother ware.
He had no home, young Carlovan, an orphan child was he;
And yet no rich man said to him, “Come, be a son to me.”
There was no one to counsel him, no friend to hear his moan;
And Carlovan rose up and went into the world alone.
“For the love of God,” said Carlovan, to a rich priest whom he met,
“Give me an alms, for it is night, and I am fasting yet!”
The haughty priest looked down on him, with hard, unpitying eye,
The haughty priest went on his way and made him no reply.
For seven days on went Carlovan, through the wild wood and the clear,
And at night he laid him down to rest among the herded deer.
Upon the eighth young Carlovan saw, riding by the way,
A warrior on an armëd steed, in glittering, proud array.
A prayer sprang ready to his lips, and forth he stretched his hand,
But then he knew that man of blood, the spoiler of his land;
And to his dark and thoughtful eye the human tears did start,
He turned without a word away, and sadder grew his heart.
Then at a peasant's lowly door he made his humble prayer;
But the peasant swore with bitter words that he had nought to spare.
Next at a castle's gate he prayed, where a hundred vassals wait;
But they called him thief and beggar loon, and drove him from the gate.
“Give me an alms, for it is night, and I am fasting yet!”
The haughty priest looked down on him, with hard, unpitying eye,
The haughty priest went on his way and made him no reply.
For seven days on went Carlovan, through the wild wood and the clear,
And at night he laid him down to rest among the herded deer.
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A warrior on an armëd steed, in glittering, proud array.
A prayer sprang ready to his lips, and forth he stretched his hand,
But then he knew that man of blood, the spoiler of his land;
And to his dark and thoughtful eye the human tears did start,
He turned without a word away, and sadder grew his heart.
Then at a peasant's lowly door he made his humble prayer;
But the peasant swore with bitter words that he had nought to spare.
Next at a castle's gate he prayed, where a hundred vassals wait;
But they called him thief and beggar loon, and drove him from the gate.
A heavy heart had Carlovan, and the tears were in his eye;
Up to the green hill-top he went, and laid him down to die.
But first he prayed a holy prayer, to purify his mind,
And wished some blessëd company might take him from mankind.
With an earnest heart prayed Carlovan; and, when his prayer was said,
The fair round moon came up the sky, the stars paled overhead,
And he heard beneath the green hill-top a low sad voice that said,
“Oh, I have not a book to read, not a page whereon to pore;
I have read all these from first to last, and there are now no more!”
“Whoever thou art,” said Carlovan, “to me thy footsteps bend:
I have a book of goodly lore which I to thee will lend.”
With that up stepped a little old man, of mild, sagacious look,
And bending forth, with eager haste, he seized upon the book.
“Now thank thee, child, for this new book,” the old man gravely said,
“And may each blessing in this book be showered upon thy head!”
Up to the green hill-top he went, and laid him down to die.
But first he prayed a holy prayer, to purify his mind,
And wished some blessëd company might take him from mankind.
With an earnest heart prayed Carlovan; and, when his prayer was said,
The fair round moon came up the sky, the stars paled overhead,
And he heard beneath the green hill-top a low sad voice that said,
“Oh, I have not a book to read, not a page whereon to pore;
I have read all these from first to last, and there are now no more!”
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I have a book of goodly lore which I to thee will lend.”
With that up stepped a little old man, of mild, sagacious look,
And bending forth, with eager haste, he seized upon the book.
“Now thank thee, child, for this new book,” the old man gravely said,
“And may each blessing in this book be showered upon thy head!”
Again by himself sits Carlovan on the green hill-top so lone,
The night-wind stirred the long grey moss on many an ancient stone.
The driving clouds came up the sky, the yellow moon grew pale,
And just below the lonesome hill he heard a feeble wail.
“Oh! she is gone!” it said, “is gone! we may not her regain;
She must the woes of life endure, must suffer mortal pain;
Nought but a Christian mother's ring can bring her back again!”
“Whoe'er ye be,” cried Carlovan, “here let your footsteps wend,
I have my Christian mother's ring, which I to you will lend.”
With that he saw, all round the hill, come thronging shapes of light,
More radiant than the opening flowers, or than the day more bright.
They were not creatures of the earth, too fair for human clay;
As angels they were beautiful, yet had not wings as they.
“Now thank thee, thank thee, for thy ring,” they cried with voices mild,
And gently raised him by the hand, and stroked his hair, and smiled.
“We will repay thee, child,” they said: “now, follow where we go.”
And they led him to a far-off place, but where he did not know.
It was no place upon the earth, nor was it in the air;
Some far-off place of happiness, and yet they soon were there.
They made him eat of wheaten cakes, of fruits delicious, seven;
And as he ate and drank he thought that he had passed to heaven.
They bathed him in a silver bath of water cool and sweet;
They poured rich odour on his hair, and dews upon his feet;
They laid him on a silken bed of down so soft and deep;
And dreams that were like paradise kept with him in his sleep.
The night-wind stirred the long grey moss on many an ancient stone.
The driving clouds came up the sky, the yellow moon grew pale,
And just below the lonesome hill he heard a feeble wail.
“Oh! she is gone!” it said, “is gone! we may not her regain;
She must the woes of life endure, must suffer mortal pain;
Nought but a Christian mother's ring can bring her back again!”
“Whoe'er ye be,” cried Carlovan, “here let your footsteps wend,
I have my Christian mother's ring, which I to you will lend.”
With that he saw, all round the hill, come thronging shapes of light,
More radiant than the opening flowers, or than the day more bright.
They were not creatures of the earth, too fair for human clay;
As angels they were beautiful, yet had not wings as they.
238
And gently raised him by the hand, and stroked his hair, and smiled.
“We will repay thee, child,” they said: “now, follow where we go.”
And they led him to a far-off place, but where he did not know.
It was no place upon the earth, nor was it in the air;
Some far-off place of happiness, and yet they soon were there.
They made him eat of wheaten cakes, of fruits delicious, seven;
And as he ate and drank he thought that he had passed to heaven.
They bathed him in a silver bath of water cool and sweet;
They poured rich odour on his hair, and dews upon his feet;
They laid him on a silken bed of down so soft and deep;
And dreams that were like paradise kept with him in his sleep.
II. PART II.
How long he dwelt in that fair place is not for me to say,
But the time went on in happiness as the passing of a day.
By the old man's side sits Carlovan, and on a book doth pore;
“All books,” the old man said, “can teach, some less and others more;
“But this book which I had from thee contains the soothest lore.
I can teach nought, my Carlovan, which here thou wilt not find;
All doctrine of sublimest faith is here, to fit thy mind
For conquest over self and sin, for service of thy kind!”
Then opened he the page which told how Christ high heaven forsook,
And for the sake of human sin a human semblance took;
And how he lived and how he died, he read from out the book.
“Nought higher can I teach than this,” said he, the old man hoar,
“And the book which thou to me didst lend to thee I now restore.
Go forth a champion for God's poor; be strong, and bear in thought
That wisdom's choicest, noblest lore is by affliction taught.
They put on him the golden ring, and the simple Carlovan
No longer is a little child, but a tall and fair young man. [fear,
“Thanks for thy ring,” they said; “and now go forth and have no
Thou hast a better wealth than gold, which never thief comes near;
The uses of adversity have kept thy spirit clear.”
They gave him gifts of highest price, an upright heart of truth,
The wisdom of the wisest age with the ardency of youth.
But the time went on in happiness as the passing of a day.
By the old man's side sits Carlovan, and on a book doth pore;
“All books,” the old man said, “can teach, some less and others more;
“But this book which I had from thee contains the soothest lore.
I can teach nought, my Carlovan, which here thou wilt not find;
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For conquest over self and sin, for service of thy kind!”
Then opened he the page which told how Christ high heaven forsook,
And for the sake of human sin a human semblance took;
And how he lived and how he died, he read from out the book.
“Nought higher can I teach than this,” said he, the old man hoar,
“And the book which thou to me didst lend to thee I now restore.
Go forth a champion for God's poor; be strong, and bear in thought
That wisdom's choicest, noblest lore is by affliction taught.
They put on him the golden ring, and the simple Carlovan
No longer is a little child, but a tall and fair young man. [fear,
“Thanks for thy ring,” they said; “and now go forth and have no
Thou hast a better wealth than gold, which never thief comes near;
The uses of adversity have kept thy spirit clear.”
They gave him gifts of highest price, an upright heart of truth,
The wisdom of the wisest age with the ardency of youth.
He stood once more on the green hill-top, upon a morning bright,
And many a year and more had passed, though it seemed but yesternight.
Now, who is brave like Carlovan, who brave like him and good?
He hath redeemed the groaning land from that fierce man of blood.
“Thou shalt be king, brave Carlovan, who art so bold and true.”
But he put the proffered crown aside, and to the hill withdrew:
And there, among the mossy stones, he knelt awhile apart,
And with his God communed in prayer, and with his upright heart.
“I may not be your king,” he said, “for this I was not sent;
There is another work for me, a nobler government.”
Now, who is wise like Carlovan? A learnëd man is he;
And they marvel whence he got his lore without a priest's degree.
And far and wide throughout the land good Carlovan doth go,
To preach the love of Jesus Christ both unto high and low.
The haughty priest bowed down to him who scorned him so before,
And from the life of Carlovan learnt humbler, better lore.
He blessed the poor, he felt for them who had been poor as they;
And the land that once was desolate like Eden round him lay.
All loved him as a long-tried friend; all blessed the life he led;
And little children left their play to hear the words he said.
Through long long years lived Carlovan, uncaught by worldly snare;
But ever was the lone hill-top his favourite place of prayer.
And when he died they buried him beneath the hill-top stone.
Please God, a second Carlovan upon the earth were known!
And many a year and more had passed, though it seemed but yesternight.
Now, who is brave like Carlovan, who brave like him and good?
He hath redeemed the groaning land from that fierce man of blood.
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But he put the proffered crown aside, and to the hill withdrew:
And there, among the mossy stones, he knelt awhile apart,
And with his God communed in prayer, and with his upright heart.
“I may not be your king,” he said, “for this I was not sent;
There is another work for me, a nobler government.”
Now, who is wise like Carlovan? A learnëd man is he;
And they marvel whence he got his lore without a priest's degree.
And far and wide throughout the land good Carlovan doth go,
To preach the love of Jesus Christ both unto high and low.
The haughty priest bowed down to him who scorned him so before,
And from the life of Carlovan learnt humbler, better lore.
He blessed the poor, he felt for them who had been poor as they;
And the land that once was desolate like Eden round him lay.
All loved him as a long-tried friend; all blessed the life he led;
And little children left their play to hear the words he said.
Through long long years lived Carlovan, uncaught by worldly snare;
But ever was the lone hill-top his favourite place of prayer.
And when he died they buried him beneath the hill-top stone.
Please God, a second Carlovan upon the earth were known!
1835.
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