Chapter 2

"Courtesy flowers thy folk among, And charity, I well believe. If foolish words flow from my tongue, Let not my speech thy spirit grieve. A queen in heaven while yet so young, Too high thou dost thyself upheave. Then what reward from strife were wrung? What worship more might he achieve Who lived in penance morn and eve, Through bodily pain in bliss to be? Honour more high might he receive, Than be crowned king by courtesy?"

IX

"That courtesy rewards no deed If all be true that thou dost say; Our life not two years didst thou lead Nor learned to please God, nor to pray, No Paternoster knew nor creed, And made a queen on the first day! I may not think, so God me speed! That God from right would swerve away; As a countess, damsel, by my fay! To live in heaven were a fair boon, Or like a lady of less array, But a queen! Ah, no! it is too soon."

"With Him there is no soon nor late," Replied to me that worthy wight; "True always is His high mandate; He doth no evil, day nor night. Hear Matthew in the mass narrate, In the Gospel of the God of might, His parable portrays the state Of the Kingdom of Heaven, clear as light: 'My servants,' saith He, 'I requite As a lord who will his vineyard prune; The season of the year is right, And labourers must be hired soon.'"

"Right soon the hirelings all may see How the master with the dawn arose; To hire his labourers forth went he, And workmen stout and strong he chose. For a penny a day they all agree, Even as the master doth propose, They toil and travail lustily, Prune, bind, and with a ditch enclose. Then to the market-place he goes, And finds men idle at high noon: 'How can a man stand here who knows The vineyards should be tilled so soon?'"

"'Soon as day dawned we hither won, And no man hath our labour sought; We have been standing since rose the sun And no one bids us to do aught.' 'Enter my vineyard every one,' The master answered quick as thought: 'The work that each by night has done I will truly pay, withholding naught.' Among the vines they went and wrought, While morning, noon and afternoon, More labourers the master brought, Until the night must gather soon."

"Soon fell the time of evensong. An hour before the sun was set, He saw more idlers, young and strong; His voice was sober with regret: 'Why stand ye idle all day long?' 'No man,' they said, 'hath hired us yet.' 'Go to my vineyard, fear no wrong; Each man an honest wage shall get.' The day grew dark and darker yet, "Before the rising of the moon; The master who would pay his debt, Bade summon all the hirelings soon."

X

"The lord soon called his steward: 'Go Bring in the men quick as ye may; Give them the wages that I owe, And, lest they aught against me say, Range them along here in a row, To each alike his penny pay; Start with the last who standeth low, And to the first proceed straightway,' And then the first began to pray, Complaining they had travailed sore: 'These wrought but one hour of the day, We think we should receive the more.'"

"'More have we served,' they muttered low, 'Who have endured the long day's heat, Than these who not two hours toiled so; Why should their claim with ours compete?' Said the master: 'I pay all I owe; Friend, no injustice shalt thou meet; Take that which is thine own and go. For a penny we settled in the street; Why dost thou now for more entreat? Thou wast well satisfied before. Once made, a bargain is complete; Why shouldst thou, threatening, ask for more?"

"'What can be more within my gift Than what I will with mine to do? Let not thine eyes to evil shift, Because I trusty am, and true.' 'Thus I,' said Christ, 'all men shall sift. The last shall be the first of you; And the first last, however swift, For many are called, but chosen, few.' And thus poor men may have their due, That late and little burden bore; Their work may vanish like the dew, The mercy of God is much the more."

"More gladness have I, herewithin, Of flower of life, and noble name, Than all men in the world might win, Who thought their righteous deeds to name. Nathless even now did I begin; To the vineyard as night fell I came, But my Lord would not account it sin; He paid my wages without blame. Yet others did not fare the same, Who toiled and travailed there before, And of their hire might nothing claim, Perchance shall not for a year more."

Then more, and openly, I spake: "From thy tale no reason can I wring; God's righteousness doth ever wake, Else Holy Writ is a fabled thing. From the Psalter one verse let us take, That may to a point this teaching bring: 'Thou requitest each for his deed's sake, Thou high and all-foreknowing King.' If one man to his work did cling All day, and thou wert paid before, Most wage falls to least labouring, And ever the less receives the more."

XI

"Of more or less where God doth reign, There is no chance," she gently said, "For, whether large or small his gain, Here every man alike is paid. No niggard churl our High Chieftain, But lavishly His gifts are made, Like streams from a moat that flow amain, Or rushing waves that rise unstayed. Free were his pardon whoever prayed Him who to save man's soul did vow, Unstinted his bliss, and undelayed, For the grace of God is great enow."

"But now thou wouldst my wit checkmate, Making my wage as wrong appear; Thou say'st that I am come too late, Of so large hire to be worthy here; Yet sawest thou ever small or great, Living in prayer and holy fear, Who did not forfeit at some date The meed of heaven to merit clear? Nay much the rather, year by year, All bend from right and to evil bow; Mercy and grace their way must steer, For the grace of God is great enow."

"But enow of grace have the innocent New-born, before the sacred shrine, They are sealed with water in sacrament, And thus are brought into the vine. Anon the day with darkness blent, Death by its might makes to decline; Who wrought no wrong ere hence they went, The gentle Lord receives, in fine; They obeyed His will, they bore His sign, Why should He not their claim allow? Yea, and reward them, I opine, For the grace of God is great enow."

"'T is known enow that all mankind At first were formed for perfect bliss; Our forefather that boon resigned, All for an apple's sake, I wis; We fell condemned, for folly blind, To suffer sore in hell's abyss; But One a remedy did find Lest we our hope of heaven should miss. He suffered on the cross for this, Red blood ran from His crownèd brow; He saved us by that pain of His, For the grace of God is great enow."

"Enow there flowed from out that well, Blood and water from His broad wound: The blood bought us from bale of hell, And from second death deliverance found. The water is baptism, truth to tell, That followed-the spear so sharply ground, And washes away the guilt most fell Of those that Adam in death had drowned. Now is there nothing in earth's great round, To bar from the bliss wherewith God did endow Mankind,--restored to us safe and sound, For the grace of God is great enow."

XII

"Grace enow a man may get By penitence, though he sin again; But with long sorrow and regret, He must bear punishment and pain; But righteous reason will not let The innocent be hurt in vain; God never gave His judgment yet, That they should suffer who show no stain. The sinful soul of mercy fain Finds pardon if he will repent, But he who sinless doth remain Is surely saved, being innocent."

"Two men are saved of God's good grace, Who severally have done His will: The righteous man shall see His face, The innocent dwells with Him still. In the Psalter thou may'st find a case: 'Lord, who shall climb to Thy high hill, Or rest within Thy Holy Place?' The psalmist doth the sense fulfill: 'Who with his hands did never ill, His heart to evil never lent, There to ascend he shall have skill;' So surely saved is the innocent."

"That the righteous is saved I hold certain; Before God's palace he shall stand Who never took man's life in vain, Who never to flatter his fellow planned. Of the righteous, the Wise Man writeth plain How kindly our King doth him command; In ways full strait he doth restrain, Yet shows him the kingdom great and grand, As who saith: 'Behold! yon lovely land! Thou may'st win it, if so thy will be bent.' But with never peril on either hand, Surely saved is the innocent."

"Of the righteous saved, hear one man say-- David, who in the Psalter cried: 'O Lord, call never Thy servant to pay, For no man living is justified.' So thou, if thou shalt come one day To the court that each cause must decide, For mercy with justice thou may'st pray Through this same text that I espied. But may He on the bloody cross that died, His holy hands with hard nails rent, Give thee to pass when thou art tried, Saved, not as righteous, but innocent."

"Of the sinless saved the tale is told,-- Read in the Book where it is said: When Jesus walked, among men of old, The people a passage to Him made; Bringing their bairns for Him to hold, For the blessing of His hand they prayed. The twelve reproved them: 'Overbold To seek the Master;' and sternly stayed. But Jesus said: 'Be ye not afraid; Suffer the children, nor prevent; God's kingdom is for such arrayed.' Surely saved are the innocent."

XIII

"Christ called to Him the innocents mild, And said His kingdom no man might win, Unless he came thither as a child,--Not otherwise might he enter in, Harmless, faithful, undefiled, With never a spot of soiling sin,--For these whom the world has not beguiled Gladly shall one the gate unpin. There shall that endless bliss begin, The merchant sought, and straight was led To barter all stuffs men weave and spin, To buy him a pearl unblemished."

"'This pearl unblemished, bought so dear, For which the merchant his riches gave, Is like the kingdom of heaven clear;' So said the Father of world and wave. It is a flawless, perfect sphere, Polished and pure, and bright and brave; As on my heart it doth appear, It is common to all who to virtue clave. My Lord, the Lamb Who died to save, Here set it in token of His blood shed For peace. Then let the wild world rave, But buy thee this pearl unblemishèd."

"O Pearl unblemished, in pure pearls dressed, That beareth," said I, "the pearl of price, Who formed thy figure-and thy vest? Truly he wrought with cunning nice; For thy beauty, above nature's best, Passeth Pygmalion's artifice; Nor Aristotle the lore possessed To depict in words so fair device. Than fleur-de-lys thou art fairer thrice, Angel-mannered and courtly bred,-- Tell to me truly: in Paradise What meaneth the pearl unblemished?"

"My spotless Lamb, who all doth heal," She answered, "my dear Destiny, Chose me in marriage bond to seal; Unfit, He graced me regally, From your world's woe come into weal. He called me of His courtesy: 'Come hither to me, my lover leal, For mote nor spot is none in thee.' He gave me my might and great beauty; He washed my weeds in His blood so red, And crowned me, forever clean to be, And clothed me in pearls unblemishèd."

"Unblemished bride, bright to behold, That royalty hath so rich and rare, What is this Lamb, that thou hast told How for wedded wife He called thee there? Above all others dost thou make bold, As His chosen lady His life to share? So many, comely in combs of gold, For Christ have lived in strife and care, Must these to a lower place repair, That never any with Him may wed, Save only thyself, so proud and fair, Peerless Queen, and unblemished?"

XIV

"Unblemished," answered she again, "Without a spot of black or gray, With honour may I this maintain; But 'peerless Queen' I did not say. Brides of the Lamb in bliss we reign, An hundred and forty thousand gay, As in the Apocalypse is made plain, Saint John beheld them on a day; On the hill of Zion he saw them stay, In vision his spirit looked on them, For the wedding clad in bright-array, At the city of New Jerusalem."

"Of Jerusalem in speech I tell; And what He is if thou wouldst see-- My Lamb, my Lord, my dear Jewel, My Joy, my Love, my Bliss so free,-- The prophet Isaiah writeth well Of His most mild humility: 'Guiltless, when men upon Him fell For never a fault nor felony, As a sheep to the slaughter led was He; Quiet, the while the crowd contemn, As a lamb in the shearer's hands might be, He was judged by Jews in Jerusalem.'"

"In Jerusalem was my Lover slain, Rent on the rood by ruffians bold; To bear our ills He was full fain, To suffer our sorrows manifold; Buffeted until blood did stain That face so lovely to behold; He took upon Him all sin and pain, Even He of Whom not one sin is told; On the rude cross stretched faint and cold, He let men deride him and condemn; Meek as a lamb, betrayed and sold, He died for us in Jerusalem."

"At Jerusalem, Jordan and Galilee, Wherever Saint John came to baptize, His words with Isaiah's words agree. On Jesus he lifted up his eyes, Speaking of Him this prophecy: 'Behold the Lamb of God!' he cries: 'Who bears the world's sins, this is He! The guilt of all upon Him lies, Though He wrought evil in no wise. The branches springing from that stem Who can recount? 'T is He who dies For our sake in Jerusalem.'"

"In Jerusalem my Lover sweet Twice as a lamb did thus appear, Even as the prophets both repeat, So meek the mien that He did wear; The third time also, as is meet, In the Revelation is written clear. Reading a book on His high seat Midmost the throne that saints ensphere, The Apostle John beheld Him near; That book seven sacred seals begem; And at that sight all folk felt fear In hell, in earth and Jerusalem."

XV

This Jerusalem Lamb had never stain Of other hue than perfect white, That showeth neither streak nor strain Of soil, but is like wool to sight; And souls that free of sin remain The Lamb receiveth with delight; And, though each day a group we gain, There comes no strife for room nor right, Nor rivalry our bliss to blight. The more the merrier, I profess. In company our love grows bright, In honour more and never less.

"Lessening of bliss no comer brings To us who bear this pearl at breast; Nor show they flaws nor tarnishings Who wear such pure pearls like a crest. Though round our corpses the clay clings, And though ye mourn us without rest, Knowledge have we of goodly things. Through the first death our hope we test; Grief goes; at each mass we are blest By the Lamb Who gives us happiness; The bliss of each is bright and best, And no one's honour is the less."

"That thou my tale the less may doubt, In the Revelation 'tis told, and more: 'I saw,' says John, 'a goodly rout The hill of Zion covering o'er, The Lamb, with maidens round about, An hundred thousand and forty and four, And each brow, fairly written out, The Lamb's name and His Father's bore. Then a sound from heaven I heard outpour, As streams, full laden, foam and press, Or as thunders among dark crags roar, The tumult was, and nothing less."

"'Nathless, though high that shout might ring, And loud the voices sounding near, A strain full new I heard them sing, And sweet and strange it was to hear. Like harper's hands upon the string Was that new song they sang so clear; The noble notes went vibrating, And gentle words came to my ear. Close by God's throne, without one fear, Where the four beasts His power confess, And the elders stand so grave of cheer, They sang their new song, none the less."

"'Nathless is none with skill so fine, For all the crafts that ever he knew, That of that song might sing a line; Save these that hold the Lamb in view; From earth brought to that land divine, As first fruits that to God are due, They serve the Lamb and bear His sign, As like Himself in face and hue; For never lying nor tale untrue Defiled their lips in life's distress;' Whatever might move them, they but drew Nearer the Master, none the less."

"Nevertheless, speak out I must, My Pearl, though queries rude I pose. To try thy fair wit were unjust Whom Christ to His own chamber chose. Behold, I am but dung and dust, And thou a rare and radiant rose, Abiding here in life, and lust Of loveliness that ever grows. A hind that no least cunning knows, I needs must my one doubt express; Though boisterous as the wind that blows, Let my prayer move thee none the less."

XVI

Yet, none the less, on thee I call, If thou wilt listen verily, As thou art glorious over all, Hearken the while I question thee. Within some splendid castle wall, Have ye not dwellings fair to see? Of David's city, rich, royal, Jerusalem, thou tellest me. In Palestine its place must be; In wildwood such none ever saw. Since spotless is your purity, Your dwellings should be free from flaw.

"Now this most fair and flawless rout, Thronging thousands, as thou dost tell, They must possess, beyond a doubt, A sightly city wherein to dwell. 'T were strange that they should live without; For so bright a band it were not well; Yet I see no building hereabout. Dost thou linger as in a woodland cell, Alone and hidden, for the spell Of rushing stream and shining shaw? If thou hast a dwelling beyond this dell, Now show me that city free from flaw."

"Not flawless the city in Juda's land," That gentle one gently to me spake, "But the Lamb did bless it when He planned To suffer there sorely for man's sake. That is the old city we understand, And there the bonds of old guilt did break; But the new, alighted from God's hand, The Apostle John for his theme did take. The Lamb Who is white with never a flake Of black, did thither His fair folk draw; For His flock no fenced fold need He make, Nor moat for His city free from flaw."

"To figure flawlessly what may mean Jerusalems twain: the first of those Was 'the Sight of Peace' as it is seen In the word of God, for the gospel shows How there our peace made sure hath been, Since to suffer therein the Saviour chose; In the other is always peace to glean, Peace that never an ending knows. To that city bright the spirit goes When the flesh hath fallen beneath death's law; There glorious gladness forever grows For His fair folk that are free from flaw."

"Flawless maid so mild and meek," Then said I to that lovely flower: "Let me that stately city seek, And let me see thy blissful bower." That bright one said, "Thou art too weak, Thou may'st not enter to its tower; Yet of the Lamb I did bespeak This goodly gift, that He would dower Thine eyes with the sight for one short hour,-- From without,--within none ever saw; To step in that street thou hast no power, Unless thy soul were free from flaw."

XVII

"This flawless sight I will not hide; Up toward the brook's head thou must go, While I will follow on this side, Till yonder hill the city show." And then I would no longer bide, But stole through branches, bending low, Till from the summit I espied, Through green boughs swaying to and fro, Afar, the city, all aglow, That brighter than bright sunbeams shone. In writing it is pictured so, In the Revelation of St. John.

As John the Apostle saw the sight, I saw that city, standing near Jerusalem, so royal dight, As if from Heaven alighted here. The city all of gold burned bright, Like gleaming glass that glistens clear. With precious stones beneath set right: Foundations twelve of gems most dear, Wrought wondrous richly, tier on tier. Each base was of a separate stone As, perfectly, it doth appear In the Revelation of St. John.

John named the stones that he had seen, I knew the order that he made; The first a jasper must have been, That on the lowest base was laid, Beneath the rest it glinted green; A sapphire in the second grade; Chalcedony, from blemish clean, In the third course was fair arrayed; Fourth, emerald, of greenest shade, Fifth, sardonyx, was raised thereon; The sixth a ruby, as is said In the Revelation of St. John.

John joined to these the chrysolite, The seventh gem in that basement; The eighth, a beryl, clear and white; The topaz, ninth, its luster lent; Tenth, chrysophrase, both soft and bright; Eleventh, the jacinth, translucent; And twelfth, and noblest to recite, Amethyst, blue with purple blent. The wall above those basements went Jasper, like glass that glistening shone; I saw, as the story doth present,-- The Revelation of St. John.

I saw, as John doth clear devise: The great stones rose like a broad stair; Above, the city, to my eyes, In height, length, breadth appeared four-square; The jasper wall shone amber-wise, The golden streets as glass gleamed fair; The dwellings glowed in glorious guise With every stone most rich and rare. Each length of bright wall builded there For full twelve furlongs' space stretched on, And height, length, breadth all equal were: "I saw one mete it," writeth John.

XVIII

As John doth write more met mine eye: Within each wall were set three gates; Twelve in succession I could spy, Portals adorned with bright gold plates; Each gate a single pearl saw I, A perfect pearl, as John relates. On each a name was written high Of Israel's sons after their dates, The oldest first, as the story states. Within those streets by night or noon, Light beams that not one hour abates; They needed neither sun nor moon.

Of sun or moon they had no need; For God Himself was their lamp light, The Lamb their lantern was indeed; From Him the city shone all bright. Through wall and dwelling my looks might speed, Such clearness could not hinder sight. Of the high throne ye might take heed, With draperies of radiant white, As John the Apostle doth endite; High God Himself did sit thereon. From the throne a river welled outright Was brighter than both sun and moon.

Sun nor moon shone never so sweet As the full flood of that bright stream; Swiftly it swept through every street, Untainted did the water gleam. Chapel nor church mine eyes did meet; Therein is no temple as I deem; The Almighty is their minster meet, The Lamb their sacrifice supreme. The gates with neither bolt nor beam, Wide open stand at night and noon; To enter there let no man dream Whom sin hath stained beneath the moon.

The moon may there win no least might, She is too spotty, grey and grim; Therein, moreover, is never night, Why should the moon fill full her rim To rival the all-glorious light That beams upon the river's brim? The planets are in poorest plight; The sun itself is far too dim. Beside the stream trees tall and trim Bear living fruits that none doth prune; Twelve times a year bends low each limb, Renewed with fruitage every moon.

Beneath the moon full well might fail The heart of mortal to endure The marvel that did mine eyes assail, Fashioned the fancy to allure. I stood as still as a startled quail, For wonder of its fair figure, I felt no rest and no travail, Ravished before such radiance pure. I say, and with conviction sure, Had the eyes of man received that boon, Though wisest clerks sought for his cure, His life were lost beneath the moon.

XIX

Now, even as the full moon might rise Ere daylight doth to darkness fall, Sudden I saw with still surprise Within that shining city-wall, The streets full-thronged in wondrous wise, Silent, with never a herald's call, With virgins in the selfsame guise As my beloved, sweet and small. Each head was crowned with coronal, Pearl-wrought, and every robe was white; On each breast bound, imperial, The Pearl of Price with great delight.

With great delight together going On glassy golden streets they tread; To a hundred thousand swiftly growing, And all alike were they garmented: The gladdest face who could be knowing? The Lamb did proudly pass ahead, His seven horns of clear red gold glowing, His robes like pearls high valuèd. On toward the throne their way they thread, None crowded in that band so bright, But mild as maidens when mass is said, So fared they forth with great delight.