 | Poems |  |
11
THE MARTYR'S MOTHER.
[_]
A PASSAGE FROM THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION IN FRANCE, AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
“First strip his shoulders bare,
Then through the streets of Meaux
Scourge the cursed wretch, who 'd dare
More than his priest to know.
The scourging done, let the hot brand
Hiss on his brow from hangman's hand.”
Then through the streets of Meaux
Scourge the cursed wretch, who 'd dare
More than his priest to know.
The scourging done, let the hot brand
Hiss on his brow from hangman's hand.”
12
Called priests of Christ were they,
The judges who thus spake;
So darkened was the day,
That with Lord Jesus brake.
For Jesus said, “Love one another”;
These loved themselves, and cursed their brother.
The judges who thus spake;
So darkened was the day,
That with Lord Jesus brake.
For Jesus said, “Love one another”;
These loved themselves, and cursed their brother.
His hands behind him bound,
His back the martyr bent;
His life-drops on the ground,
They marked the path he went.
Calmly as earth the wild storm's flashes,
Receives his soul the priest-bid lashes.
His back the martyr bent;
His life-drops on the ground,
They marked the path he went.
Calmly as earth the wild storm's flashes,
Receives his soul the priest-bid lashes.
Like bloodhounds on a trail,
The yelling multitude,
With bitter, mocking hail,
His glorious track pursued.
The blinded crowd so seldom knows
Its benefactors from its foes.
The yelling multitude,
With bitter, mocking hail,
His glorious track pursued.
The blinded crowd so seldom knows
Its benefactors from its foes.
13
But silent was the tear,
From bleeding hearts upsent,
For the brave teacher dear,
Their bondage who had rent.
And some, who yet had not the truth,
Deep groaned with fructifying ruth.
From bleeding hearts upsent,
For the brave teacher dear,
Their bondage who had rent.
And some, who yet had not the truth,
Deep groaned with fructifying ruth.
That soul-steeped look,—whence broke it?
To his strong heart a balm;
That valiant word,—who spoke it?
It made his courage calm.
So look, so speak, could only one;
A mother worthy of the son.
To his strong heart a balm;
That valiant word,—who spoke it?
It made his courage calm.
So look, so speak, could only one;
A mother worthy of the son.
Ceases the blood-wet rod;
The iron 's in the fire;
I' the name of mercy's God,
Rome's priests will slake their ire.
The headsman's arm is up,—and now
The iron 's on the martyr's brow.
The iron 's in the fire;
I' the name of mercy's God,
Rome's priests will slake their ire.
The headsman's arm is up,—and now
The iron 's on the martyr's brow.
14
Like one fierce lightning streak
On the black calm of night,
On that hushed crowd a shriek
Fell with appalling might.
“Glory to Jesus Christ,” it cried,
“And all his witnesses!” and died.
On the black calm of night,
On that hushed crowd a shriek
Fell with appalling might.
“Glory to Jesus Christ,” it cried,
“And all his witnesses!” and died.
The throng and soldiers melt,
Subdued, o'erwhelmed with awe;
The priests, e'en they too felt
She was above their law.
A heart-voice tunes all to its mood,
So deep 's our bond of brotherhood.
Subdued, o'erwhelmed with awe;
The priests, e'en they too felt
She was above their law.
A heart-voice tunes all to its mood,
So deep 's our bond of brotherhood.
Thus could a mother sing
For Christ and Truth that day;
She, too, had quelled pain's sting.
The awed crowd give her way
To her humble hearth, the noble one:
In triumph followed her her son.
For Christ and Truth that day;
She, too, had quelled pain's sting.
The awed crowd give her way
To her humble hearth, the noble one:
In triumph followed her her son.
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