Then stepp'd the old man down upon the sand,
Wind-sifted, sparkling as the mountain sleet,
And scoop'd it with his thin and feeble hand,
And flung it at his feet.

And down it fell in spangles on the shore,

A marvellous dust of silver and of gold, Nor ceased until the mariners twice o'er The grey-beard's freight had told.

Blind souls of men refusing their true bliss,
God's highest offers, and yet sweetly still
He bribes them by these lower gifts of His,
Against their own proud will!

So to the bark once more the pilgrim pass'd.
Out sail'd the gallant vessel homeward bound,
But evermore in silence by the mast

The pilgrim might be found.

While the ship raced upon an even keel
And floated buoyant as an ocean bird,
Upon the deck, or up beside the wheel,
No voice of his was heard.

Only sweet virtues grew beneath his eye

Both Charity and Hope, which are Heaven's sole Prime roses, and Humility, the shy

Meek violet of the soul.

Only at vesper-tide, from time to time,

Invisible angels, from the starlit stair, Touch'd all their spirits to a more sublime And an intenser prayer.

Only by night, what time they cross'd the pale
Moonlight into the darkness, high and higher
Each topmast seem'd a cross, and its white sail
Was snow'd with sacred fire.

At last a storm rush'd down upon the flood,
And the tyrannic winds sang loud and strong;
The pilot cried, "Beneath this dreadful scud
No vessel can live long."

Soon rose surmise who might the pilgrim be,
His passage money how he came to win;
"God's wrath," they thought, "is working in the sea
Because of this man's sin."

Whereat the old man rose, and, "Through the storm Give me your ship," he said, and straight did take Mysterious likeness to the wondrous Form

On Galilee's wild lake.

"Sleep sweetly while the ocean works and stirs,
Sleep sweetly till we cross the seething bar,
Sleep on, and take your rest, O mariners,
For mine own crew ye are."

So look'd He upward with his calm bright eye,
So made the holy sign with His right hand,
His left upon the helm-immediately

The ship was at the land.

But as the ship with all sail set was steer'd
Bravely into the port around the cape,
No more might ye have seen a silver beard,
No more an old man's shape.

But calm He stood, as when He wears His crown
Upon the Calvary on some southern peak,
Or where above the altar He looks down,
With blood drops on His cheek.

And those who knew the Cross so far away,

Toward which they pray'd above the harbour stair, Said that its perfected reflection lay

Upon the Pilgrim there.

So the shore redden'd with the holy dawn,

And the bells chimed from all the churches round,
And the long surf's fall on the beach was drawn
Into one psalm-like sound.

And, "Rise from your sweet sleep," the hymn outrang.
"From your sad dream, or from your slumber sweet:
Here is our Lord, and here our ship," they sang,
"Oh, fall at Jesus' feet!"

VENICE, 1872.

[This legend is given in a small collection which I read in the Armenian Convent.]

REPENTANCE AND FAITH.

THERE was a ship, one eve autumnal, onward
Steer'd o'er an ocean lake;

Steer'd by some strong hand ever as if sunward;
Behind, an angry wake,

Before there stretch'd a sea that grew intenser
With silver fire far spread

Up to a hill mist-gloried, like a censer
With smoke encompassèd:

It seem'd as if two seas were brink to brink,
A silver flood beyond a lake of ink.

There was a soul that eve autumnal sailing
Beyond the earth's dark bars,

Toward the land of sunsets never paling,
Toward Heaven's sea of stars;

Behind there was a wake of billows tossing,

Before, a glory lay.

O happy soul! with all sail set just crossing

Into the Far away,

The gloom and gleam, the calmness and the strife,

Were death behind thee, and before thee life.

And as that ship went up the waters stately,
Upon her topmasts tall

I saw two sails, whereof the one was greatly
Dark as a funeral pall.

But oh, the next's pure whiteness who shall utter?
Like a shell-snowy strand,

Or when a sunbeam falleth through the shutter
On a dead baby's hand;

But both alike across the surging sea

Help'd to the haven where the bark would be.

And as that soul went onward, sweetly speeding
Unto its home and light,

Repentance made it sorrowful exceeding,
Faith made it wondrous bright;

Repentance dark with shadowy recollections,

And longings unsufficed,

Faith white and pure with sunniest affections
Full from the Face of Christ.

But both across the sun-besilver'd tide

Help'd to the heaven where the heart would ride.