Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature By Charles Mackay |
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THE POOL OF ST. FILLANS. |
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 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
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THE POOL OF ST. FILLANS.
[_]
[The Pool of St. Fillans, in the Highlands of Perthshire, was celebrated in early ages as a place of resort for the cure of idiocy or insanity. Immersion in its healing waters—accompanied by adequate offerings to the shrine of the saint —was believed to work a cure in the most desperate cases.]
For thirty long years on the side of the mountain I've guarded
Thy pool, O St. Fillans!—last hope of a desolate heart;
For thirty sad years I have sat at thy spring unrewarded:
False Saint! and false Fountain! I'll take up my cross and depart.
Hither come young and fair,
Hither comes hoary hair,
Hither comes Hope with a light in her fast-fading eyes;
Hither comes humbled Wealth,
Begging the crumbs of Health,
Which Fate, like proud Lazarus, sits 'mid the stars and denies.
Thy pool, O St. Fillans!—last hope of a desolate heart;
For thirty sad years I have sat at thy spring unrewarded:
False Saint! and false Fountain! I'll take up my cross and depart.
Hither come young and fair,
Hither comes hoary hair,
Hither comes Hope with a light in her fast-fading eyes;
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Begging the crumbs of Health,
Which Fate, like proud Lazarus, sits 'mid the stars and denies.
O cheating St. Fillans! I brought thee my boy in his childhood,
And now he's a man, and his hair is besprinkled with gray.
What hast thou done for him? Roams he not yet in the wild-wood
Dark—in the Night of Unreason—unconscious of Day?
Have I not watched and wept,
While o'er his features crept,
Sparkles of light evanescent as gleams on the wave?
Or, as in waters cast
Shadow of bird that passed,
Or glow of the far-flashing steel in the grasp of the brave?
And now he's a man, and his hair is besprinkled with gray.
What hast thou done for him? Roams he not yet in the wild-wood
Dark—in the Night of Unreason—unconscious of Day?
Have I not watched and wept,
While o'er his features crept,
Sparkles of light evanescent as gleams on the wave?
Or, as in waters cast
Shadow of bird that passed,
Or glow of the far-flashing steel in the grasp of the brave?
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Idle! all idle!—Sad Fountain, I've lost my reliance!
Thou canst not endow him with soul that he never enjoyed!
Selfish and proud I may be, setting God at defiance,
In craving the boon for my child which His wisdom destroyed.
Happy and thoughtless he,
All the grief lies with me!
Let me endure it, and cease to lament and deplore,
'Tis but a soul asleep
In the earth-prison deep,—
Heaven shall awake it, in Freedom and Light evermore.
Thou canst not endow him with soul that he never enjoyed!
Selfish and proud I may be, setting God at defiance,
In craving the boon for my child which His wisdom destroyed.
Happy and thoughtless he,
All the grief lies with me!
Let me endure it, and cease to lament and deplore,
'Tis but a soul asleep
In the earth-prison deep,—
Heaven shall awake it, in Freedom and Light evermore.
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |