Ballads and Other Poems By Mary Howitt |
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| II. | PART II. |
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 | Ballads and Other Poems |  |
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;
239
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.
240
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!
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