Poems by William W. Story :: :: University of Virginia Library

By the shadowy banks of the river,
That gleamed in the evening light,
As the good priest rode, he pondered
Of Virtue, and Justice, and Right.

He thought of the fallen spirits
To whom the gates of grace
Were closed—who, despite their repentance,
Should never see God's face.

And he crossed his breast and murmured
An Ave as he rode,
While he dreamed of a hell for sinners,
And an unforgiving God.

100

When he heard a strange, sweet music,
From a stringèd instrument,
And a gentle voice and plaintive,
That its sorrow to singing lent.

And there, in the soft green twilight,
A youth with curling hair,
On a rock by the river sat singing
With a pale dejected air.

He knew 'twas the spirit Neckan,
By the elf-locks loosely blown,
And the golden harp he was playing,
And the voice's strange, sad tone.

And a virtuous indignation
In the good priest's breast was born,
So he spoke to the poor lost Neckan
In words of reproof and scorn.

101

“Why play you your harp so sweetly?
Ah! wretched child of sin,
This dead dry staff shall blossom
Before you shall enter in

To the joy of the heavenly kingdom
That is open for children of God.”
Then with feelings half-mixed of pity,
He turned him, and onward rode.

But he stilled the voice of pity,
Though the Neckan, while he spake,
His golden harp threw from him,
And sobbed as his heart would break.

For our good priest said, “'Tis Satan
That tempts me to my loss;”
So he muttered an anathema,
And made the sign of the cross.

102

But as on he slowly ambled,
His head on his breast bent low,
He started, for on his dead dry staff
Thick blossoms began to blow.

And his harsh words he remembered,
And felt, with a painful start,
'Twas God, by the emblem rebuking
His bigoted pride of heart.

So back to the river he hurried,
Where the Neckan sat weeping sore,
And lifting his staff of blossoms
He cried to him, “Weep no more!

“Oh! weep no more, dear Neckan!
For behold! if this staff so dry
Can bourgeon in leaves and blossoms,
Can a spirit ever die?

103

“And God, by such emblem, teaches
To the soul benighted in sin,
That the Postern gate of Repentance
Is open to all to come in;

“To all that desire to enter,
How sunken soe'er they be,
And the arms of God are open
To thee as well as to me.

“For Justice is twinned with Mercy,—
Their two wings spread abroad
Balance the highest angels
That live in the smile of God.”

Then broke through the tears of the Neckan,
A glad sweet smile of light,
And lifting his harp he played it
And sang through the livelong night.