Grey wall in flame of light pacific washed,

Shone out all golden like that flower all gold Which shoots through sunset airs an arrowy beam, In charity perfected moved the monks,

No longer sad, a long procession forth,

With foreheads smoothed as by the kiss of death
And eyes like eyes of Saints from death new risen,
Bearing the relics of Northumbria's King,
Oswald, the man of God. Behind them paced
Warriors and chiefs; Osthryda last, the Queen,
With face whereon that great miraculous light,
By her all night unseen, appeared to rest,
And foot that might have trod the ocean waves
Unwetted save its palm. A shrine gem-wrought
Received the royal relics. O'er them drooped
Northumbria's standard, guest of Mercian airs
Through which it once had sailed, a portent dire :
And whosoe'er in after centuries knelt

On Oswald's grave, and, praying, wooed his prayer, Departed, in his heart the peace of God,

Passions corrupt expelled, and demon snares,

Irreverent love, and anger past its bound.

176

HOW SAINT CUTHBERT KEPT HIS

PENTECOST AT CARLISLE.

wanders among the woods of NorLater he lives alone in the island

Saint Cuthbert while a boy thumbria, bringing solace to all. of Farne. Being made bishop, many predict that he will be able neither to teach his people nor to rule his diocese. His people flock to him gladly, but require that he should teach them by parable and tale. This he does, and likewise rules his diocese with might. He discourses concerning common life. Keeping his Pentecost at Carlisle, he preaches on that Feast and the Resurrection from the Dead. Herbert, an eremite, beseeching him that the two may die the same day, he prays accordingly, and they die the same hour.

SAINT CUTHBERT, yet a youth, for many a year
Walked up and down the green Northumbrian vales
Well loving God and man.
The rockiest glens

And promontories shadowing loneliest seas,

Where lived the men least cared for, most forlorn, He sought, and brought to each the words of peace. Where'er he went he preached that God all Love;

For, as the sun in heaven, so flamed in him
That love which later fired Assisi's Saint:
Yea, rumour ran that every mountain beast
Obeyed his loving call; that when all night
He knelt upon the frosty hills in prayer,

The hare would couch her by his naked feet
And warm them with her fur. To manhood grown,
He dwelt in Lindisfarne; there, year by year,

Prospering yet more in vigil and in fast;

And paced its shores by night, and blent his hymns
With din of waves. Yet ofttimes o'er the strait
He passed, once more in search of suffering men,
Wafting them solace still. Where'er he went,

Those loved as children first, again he loved

As youth and maid, and in them nursed that Faith
Through which pure youth passes o'er passion's waves,
Like Him Who trod that Galilean sea :

He clasped the grey-grown sinner in his arms,
And won from him repentance long delayed,
Then with him shared the penance he enjoined.
O heart both strong and tender! offering Mass,
Awe-struck he stood as though on Calvary's height:
The men who marked him shook.

Twelve winters passed:

Then mandate fell upon the Saint from God,

Or breathed upon him from the heavenly height,

N

Or haply from within. It drave him forth

A hermit into solitudes more stern.

'Farewell,' he said, 'my brethren and my friends!
No holier life than yours, pure Cœnobites
Pacing one cloister, sharing one spare meal,

Chanting to God one hymn! yet I must forth

Farewell, my friends, farewell!' On him they gazed, And knew that God had spoken to his soul,

And silent stood, though sorrowing.

Long that eve,

The brethren grieved, noting his vacant stall,
Yet thus excused their sadness: 'Well for him,
And high his place in heaven; but woe to those
Henceforth of services like his amerced!
Here lived he in the world; here many throng ;-
To him in time some lesser bishopric

Might well have fallen, behoof of countless souls!
Such dream is past forever!'

Forth he fared

To Farne, a little rocky islet nigh,

Where man till then had never dared to dwell,
By dreadful rumours scared. In narrow cave
Worn from the rock, and roughly walled around,
The anchoret made abode, with lonely hands

Raising from one poor strip his daily food,
Barley thin-grown, and coarse. He saw by day

The clouds on-sailing, and by night the stars;
And heard the eternal waters. Thus recluse

The man lived on in vision still of God

:

Through contemplation known and as the shades
Each other chase all day o'er steadfast hills,
Even so, athwart that Vision unremoved,

Forever rushed the tumults of this world,

Man's fleeting life, the rise and fall of states,
While changeless measured change; the spirit of prayer
Fanning that wondrous picture oft to flame

Until the glory grew insufferable.

Long years thus lived he. As the Apostle Paul,
Though raised in raptures to the heaven of heavens,
Not therefore loved his brethren less, but longed
To give his life-his all-for Israel's sake,
So Cuthbert, loving God, loved man the more,
His wont of old. To him the mourners came,
And sinners bound by Satan. At his touch
Their chains fell from them light as summer dust :
Each word he spake was as a Sacrament

Clothed with God's grace; beside his feet they sat,
And in their perfect mind; thence through the world
Bare their deliverer's name.

So passed his life:

There old he grew, and older yet appeared,

By fasts outworn, though ever young at heart;