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THE PEARL
A MIDDLE ENGLISH POEM
A MODERN VERSION IN THE METRE OF THE ORIGINAL
BY
SOPHIE JEWETT
ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN WELLESLEY COLLEGE
1908
1908
To KATHARINE LEE BATES
To Katharine Lee Bates
THE TRANSLATOR TO THE AUTHOR
Poet of beauty, pardon me
If touch of mine have tarnishèd
Thy Pearl's pure luster, loved by thee;
Or dimmed thy vision of the dead
Alive in light and gaiety.
Thy life is like a shadow fled;
Thy place we know not nor degree,
The stock that bore thee, school that bred;
Yet shall thy fame be sung and said.
Poet of wonder, pain, and peace,
Hold high thy nameless, laurelled head
Where Dante dwells with Beatrice.
Poet of beauty, forgive me
If my touch has dulled
Your Pearl's pure shine, cherished by you;
Or clouded your view of the dead
Alive in light and joy.
Your life is like a fleeting shadow;
We don't know your place or status,
The line you come from, the school that raised you;
Yet your fame will be celebrated and remembered.
Poet of wonder, pain, and peace,
Hold your nameless, laurelled head high
Where Dante resides with Beatrice.
PREFACE
Among the treasures of the British Museum is a manuscript which contains four anonymous poems, apparently of common authorship: "The Pearl," "Cleanness," "Patience," "Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight." From the language of the writer, it seems clear that he was a native of some Northwestern district of England, and that he lived in the second half of the Fourteenth Century. He is quite unknown, save as his work reveals him, a man of aristocratic breeding, of religious and secular education, of a deeply emotional and spiritual nature, gifted with imagination and perception of beauty. He shows a liking for technique that leads him to adopt elaborate devices of rhyme, while retaining the alliteration characteristic of Northern Middle English verse. He wrote as was the fashion of his time, allegory, homily, lament, chivalric romance, but the distinction of his poetry is that of a finely accentuated individuality.
Among the treasures of the British Museum is a manuscript that contains four anonymous poems, likely by the same author: "The Pearl," "Cleanness," "Patience," and "Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight." From the writer's language, it’s clear he was a native of some Northwestern area of England and lived in the second half of the 14th century. He remains unknown, except through his work, revealing him to be a man of noble upbringing, with both religious and secular education, and a deeply emotional and spiritual nature, gifted with imagination and an appreciation for beauty. He has a preference for techniques that lead him to use complex rhyme schemes while still keeping the alliteration typical of Northern Middle English verse. He wrote in the fashion of his time—allegory, homily, lament, chivalric romance—but what sets his poetry apart is his distinct individuality.
The poems called "Cleanness" and "Patience," retell incidents of biblical history for a definitely didactic purpose, but even these are frequently lifted into the region of imaginative literature by the author's power of graphic description. "Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight" is a priceless contribution to Arthurian story. "The Pearl," though it takes the form of symbolic narrative, is essentially lyric and elegiac, the lament, it would seem, of a father for a little, long-lost daughter.
The poems "Cleanness" and "Patience" recount events from biblical history with a clear educational purpose, but they often elevate into imaginative literature thanks to the author's vivid descriptions. "Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight" is a valuable addition to the Arthurian legends. "The Pearl," although it presents a symbolic story, is fundamentally lyrical and mournful, seemingly the lament of a father for his little, long-lost daughter.
The present translation of "The Pearl" was begun with no larger design than that of turning a few passages into modern English, by way of illustrating to a group of students engaged in reading the original, the possibility of preserving intricate stanzaic form, and something of alliteration, without an entire sacrifice of poetic beauty. The experiment was persisted in because its problems are such as baffle and fascinate a translator, and the finished version is offered not merely to students of Middle English but to college classes in the history of English literature, and to non-academic readers.
The current translation of "The Pearl" started with no bigger goal than to convert a few passages into modern English, to show a group of students studying the original how to maintain complex stanzaic form and some alliteration, without completely losing the poetic beauty. The project continued because its challenges intrigue and puzzle a translator, and the completed version is presented not only to Middle English students but also to college classes focusing on the history of English literature and to general readers.
If "The Pearl" presented no greater obstacle to a modern reader than is offered by Chaucer's English, a translation might be a gratuitous task, but the Northwest-Midland dialect of the poem is, in fact, incomparably more difficult than the diction of Chaucer, more difficult even than that of Langland. The meaning of many passages remains obscure, and a translator is often forced to choose what seems the least dubious among doubtful readings.
If "The Pearl" posed no greater challenge to today's reader than Chaucer's English, translating it might be an unnecessary task. However, the Northwest-Midland dialect of the poem is actually much harder to understand than Chaucer's language, even more challenging than Langland’s. Many passages are still unclear, and a translator often has to pick what seems the least questionable among uncertain interpretations.
The poem in the original passes frequently from imaginative beauty to conversational commonplace, from deep feeling to didactic aphorism or theological dogma, and it has been my endeavor faithfully to interpret these variations of matter and of style, sometimes substituting modern colloquialisms for such as are obsolete, or in other ways paraphrasing a stubborn passage, but striving never to polish the dullest lines nor to strengthen the weakest.
The poem in the original moves often from beautiful imagery to everyday conversation, from intense emotion to instructive sayings or religious principles, and I have tried to accurately capture these shifts in content and style, sometimes replacing outdated expressions with modern ones, or rephrasing challenging sections, but always aiming not to enhance the dullest lines or to bolster the weakest.
A reader who will observe the difficult rhyming scheme, a scheme that calls for six words of one rhyme and four of another, will understand the presence of forced lines, an intrusion that one must needs suffer in even "The Faerie Queene." These padded lines are a serious blemish to the poem, but the introduction of naïve and familiar expressions is one of its charms, as when the Pearl, protesting like Piccarda in Paradise[1] that among beatified spirits there can be no rivalry, exclaims: "The more the merrier."[2]
A reader who looks closely at the complex rhyming pattern, which requires six words with one rhyme and four with another, will notice some awkward lines—something you have to put up with even in "The Faerie Queene." These extra lines really detract from the poem, but the use of simple, familiar phrases adds to its appeal, like when the Pearl, echoing Piccarda in Paradise[1] insisting that there can be no competition among blessed spirits, exclaims: "The more the merrier."[2]
The translation may, at many points, need apology, but the original needs only explanation. Readers familiar with mediæval poetry expect to encounter moral platitudes and theological subtlety. Dogma takes large and vital place in the sublimest cantos of Dante's "Paradise," and the English poet is consciously following his noblest master when he puts a sermon into the lips of his "little queen." To modern ears such exposition is at harsh discord with the simple human grief and longing of the poet, but to the mediaevalist symbolic theology was a passion. Precisely in the moment when she begins a discourse concerning the doctrine of redemption, Beatrice turns upon Dante "eyes that might make a man happy in the fire," and at its close he looks upon her and beholds her "grow more beautiful."[3] If even Beatrice has been considered mere personification, it is natural that the Pearl should be so regarded, but the plain reader finds in the symbolic maiden of the English poem, as in the transfigured lady of the Italian, some record of a human being whose loss was anguish, and whose presence rapture, to a poet long ago.
The translation might need some apologies here and there, but the original only needs some explanations. Readers familiar with medieval poetry expect to come across moral clichés and deep theological insights. Dogma plays a big and important role in the most sublime sections of Dante's "Paradise," and the English poet is intentionally following his greatest mentor when he puts a sermon in the mouth of his "little queen." To modern listeners, this kind of discussion feels out of place with the simple human sorrow and longing of the poet, but for medieval readers, symbolic theology was a deep passion. Just at the moment when she begins talking about the doctrine of redemption, Beatrice turns to Dante with "eyes that could make a man happy even in hell," and by the end of her speech, he looks at her and sees her "grow more beautiful." If even Beatrice has been seen as just a representation, it's easy to see why the Pearl would be viewed the same way, but the average reader finds in the symbolic maiden of the English poem, just like in the transformed lady of the Italian version, a reflection of a real person whose loss was heartbreaking, and whose presence brought joy to a poet long ago.
The lover of things mediæval will find in this little book not only the familiar garden of Guillaume de Lorris, of Boccaccio and of Chaucer, but an unexpected and enchanting vision of great forest and rushing water, of hillside and plain, of crystal cliffs and flame-winged birds; of the Pearl among her white peers; of the Apocalyptic Jerusalem, discovered to the poet, it may be, as a goodly Gothic city, though its walls are built of precious stone, and its towers rise from neither church nor minster.
The lover of medieval things will find in this little book not just the familiar garden of Guillaume de Lorris, Boccaccio, and Chaucer, but also an unexpected and enchanting vision of vast forests and flowing waters, of hills and plains, of crystal cliffs and birds with fiery wings; of the Pearl among her white companions; of the Apocalyptic Jerusalem, revealed to the poet, perhaps, as a beautiful Gothic city, even though its walls are made of precious stone, and its towers do not rise from any church or cathedral.
If even a few readers turn from the modern to the original version, the translation will have had fair fortune, for the author of "The Pearl" is, though unknown and unnamed, a poet second only to Chaucer in Chaucer's generation.
If even a few readers switch from the modern version to the original, the translation will have done well, because the author of "The Pearl," though unknown and unnamed, is a poet second only to Chaucer in his time.
It is a pleasure to record my many debts of gratitude: to Professor Frank H. Chase of Beloit, Professor John L. Lowes of Swarthmore, and Dr. Charles G. Osgood of Princeton, for their careful reading of the translation in manuscript, with invaluable assistance and suggestion; to Professor Martha Hale Shackford, and Miss Laura A. Hibbard, for constant aid while the work was in making, and, above all, to Professor Katharine Lee Bates for a critical, line by line, comparison of this version with the original.
It’s a pleasure to acknowledge my many debts of gratitude: to Professor Frank H. Chase of Beloit, Professor John L. Lowes of Swarthmore, and Dr. Charles G. Osgood of Princeton, for their careful reading of the manuscript translation and their invaluable feedback and suggestions; to Professor Martha Hale Shackford and Miss Laura A. Hibbard for their constant support during the creation of this work; and, most importantly, to Professor Katharine Lee Bates for the detailed, line-by-line comparison of this version with the original.
[Footnote 1: Par. III.]
[Footnote 1: Par. III.]
[Footnote 2: Pearl, stanza 71.]
[Footnote 2: Pearl, stanza 71.]
[Footnote 3: Par. VII, II. 17-18; Par. VIII, I. 15.]
[Footnote 3: Par. VII, II. 17-18; Par. VIII, I. 15.]
S.J.
WELLESLEY COLLEGE,
June, 1908.
S.J.
Wellesley College,
June 1908.
EDITIONS: R. Morris, Early English text Sc. 1864; I. Gollancz, London, 1891; C.G. Osgood, Boston, 1906 (with admirable introduction, etc.). TRANSLATIONS: Gollancz (above); S. Weir Mitchell, New York, 1906 (poetic, but incomplete); G.G. Coulton, London, 1906 (metre of the original); C.G. Osgood, Princeton, 1907 (prose).
EDITIONS: R. Morris, Early English text Sc. 1864; I. Gollancz, London, 1891; C.G. Osgood, Boston, 1906 (with an excellent introduction, etc.). TRANSLATIONS: Gollancz (above); S. Weir Mitchell, New York, 1906 (poetic but incomplete); G.G. Coulton, London, 1906 (meter of the original); C.G. Osgood, Princeton, 1907 (prose).
THE PEARL
I
Pearl that the Prince full well might prize,
So surely set in shining gold!
No pearl of Orient with her vies;
To prove her peerless I make bold:
So round, so radiant to mine eyes,
smooth she seemed, so small to hold,
Among all jewels judges wise
Would count her best an hundred fold.
Alas! I lost my pearl of old!
I pine with heart-pain unforgot;
Down through my arbour grass it rolled,
My own pearl, precious, without spot.
Pearl that the Prince would surely value,
So perfectly set in shining gold!
No pearl from the East can compete with her;
To prove her unmatched, I’ll be bold:
So round, so bright in my sight,
smooth she seemed, so small to hold,
Among all jewels, wise judges
Would count her the best a hundred times over.
Alas! I lost my pearl from the past!
I ache with unforgettable heartache;
Down through my garden grass it rolled,
My own pearl, precious and flawless.
Since in that spot it slipped from me
I wait, and wish, and oft complain;
Once it would bid my sorrow flee,
And my fair fortune turn again;
It wounds my heart now ceaselessly,
And burns my breast with bitter pain.
Yet never so sweet a song may be
As, this still hour, steals through my brain,
While verity I muse in vain
How clay should her bright beauty clot;
O Earth! a brave gem thou dost stain,
My own pearl, precious, without spot!
Since it slipped away from me at that spot
I wait, wish, and often complain;
Once it would make my sorrow vanish,
And my good fortune return again;
Now it wounds my heart endlessly,
And burns my chest with bitter pain.
Yet no song can be as sweet
As, in this quiet hour, flows through my mind,
While I ponder in vain
How dirt could cover her bright beauty;
O Earth! you tarnish a brave gem,
My own pearl, precious and flawless!
Needs must that spot with spices spread,
Where such wealth falleth to decay;
Fair flowers, golden and blue and red,
Shine in the sunlight day by day;
Nor flower nor fruit have witherèd
On turf wherein such treasure lay;
The blade grows where the grain lies dead,
Else were no ripe wheat stored away;
Of good come good things, so we say,
Then surely such seed faileth not,
But spices spring in sweet array
From my pearl, precious, without spot.
Needs must that spot with spices spread,
Where such wealth falls to decay;
Beautiful flowers, golden and blue and red,
Shine in the sunlight every day;
Neither flower nor fruit has withered
On the ground where such treasure lay;
The grass grows where the grain lies dead,
Otherwise, no ripe wheat would be stored away;
Of good comes good things, so we say,
Then surely such seed doesn't fail,
But spices grow in sweet array
From my pearl, precious, and without blemish.
Once, to that spot of which I rhyme,
I entered, in the arbour green,
In August, the high summer-time
When corn is cut with sickles keen;
Upon the mound where my pearl fell,
Tall, shadowing herbs grew bright and sheen,
Gilliflower, ginger and gromwell,
With peonies powdered all between.
As it was lovely to be seen,
So sweet the fragrance there, I wot,
Worthy her dwelling who hath been
My own pearl, precious, without spot.
Once, to that place I sing about,
I walked into the green arbor,
In August, the peak of summer
When the corn is harvested with sharp sickles;
On the mound where my pearl fell,
Tall, shadowy herbs grew bright and shiny,
Gilliflower, ginger, and gromwell,
With peonies sprinkled all around.
As beautiful as it was to see,
The fragrance there was sweet, I know,
Fit for the home of the one who has been
My own pearl, precious and flawless.
Upon that spot my hands I crossed
In prayer, for cold at my heart caught,
And sudden sorrow surged and tossed,
Though reason reconcilement sought.
I mourned my pearl, dear beyond cost,
And strange fears with my fancy fought;
My will in wretchedness was lost,
And yet Christ comforted my thought.
Such odours to my sense were brought,
I fell upon that flowery plot,
Sleeping,—a sleep with dreams inwrought
Of my pearl, precious, without spot.
On that spot, I crossed my hands
In prayer, for I felt a chill at my heart,
And sudden sorrow surged and tossed,
Even though reason sought reconciliation.
I mourned my pearl, priceless and dear,
And strange fears battled with my imagination;
My will was lost in misery,
But still, Christ comforted my thoughts.
Such scents were brought to my senses,
I fell onto that flowery patch,
Sleeping—a sleep filled with dreams
Of my pearl, precious and pure.
II
From the spot my spirit springs into space,
The while my body sleeping lies;
My ghost is gone in God's good grace,
Adventuring mid mysteries;
I know not what might be the place,
But I looked where tall cliffs cleave the skies,
Toward a forest I turned my face,
Where ranks of radiant rocks arise.
A man might scarce believe his eyes,
Such gleaming glory was from them sent;
No woven web may men devise
Of half such wondrous beauties blent.
From the spot where my spirit takes flight into the sky,
While my body sleeps below;
My soul is free by God’s grace,
Exploring the mysteries around me;
I don’t know where I might be,
But I looked where tall cliffs break the horizon,
I turned my face toward a forest,
Where rows of shining rocks emerge.
It’s hard to believe what one sees,
Such bright glory shines from them;
No fabric can be created by man
That contains such amazing beauty combined.
In beauty shone each fair hillside
With crystal cliffs in shining row,
While bright woods everywhere abide,
Their boles as blue as indigo;
Like silver clear the leaves spread wide,
That on each spray thick-quivering grow;
If a flash of light across them glide
With shimmering sheen they gleam and glow;
The gravel on the ground below
Seemed precious pearls of Orient;
The sunbeams did but darkling show
So gloriously those beauties blent.
Each beautiful hillside glowed
With crystal cliffs in a shining line,
While bright woods thrived all around,
Their trunks as blue as indigo;
The leaves spread wide like silver,
Thick and trembling on each branch;
If a flash of light sweeps across them,
They shimmer and shine with a radiant glow;
The gravel on the ground below
Looked like precious pearls from the East;
The sunlight barely broke through,
Highlighting those stunning beauties blending together.
The beauty of the hills so fair
Made me forget my sufferings;
I breathed fruit fragrance fine and rare,
As if I fed on unseen things;
Brave birds fly through the woodland there,
Of flaming hues, and each one sings;
With their mad mirth may not compare
Cithern nor gayest citole-strings;
For when those bright birds beat their wings,
They sing together, all content;
Keen joy to any man it brings
To hear and see such beauties blent.
The beauty of the lovely hills
Made me forget my pain;
I inhaled the scent of fruit, so fine and rare,
As if I was nourished by unseen things;
Bold birds fly through the woods there,
With bright colors, and each one sings;
Nothing compares to their wild joy,
Not even a lute or the finest strings;
For when those bright birds flap their wings,
They sing together, completely happy;
It brings pure joy to anyone
To hear and see such blended beauty.
So beautiful was all the wood
Where, guided forth by Chance, I strayed,
There is no tongue that fully could
Describe it, though all men essayed.
Onward I walked in merriest mood
Nor any highest hill delayed
My feet. Far through the forest stood
The plain with fairest trees arrayed,
Hedges and slopes and rivers wide,
Like gold thread their banks' garnishment;
And when I won the waterside,
Dear Lord! what wondrous beauties blent!
The woods were so beautiful
Where I wandered, led by chance,
No one could fully describe it,
Even if everyone tried.
I walked on in the best mood
And no steep hill could slow
Me down. In the distance, the forest opened up
To a field adorned with the prettiest trees,
Hedges, slopes, and wide rivers,
Their banks decorated like threads of gold;
And when I reached the water's edge,
Oh my God! what incredible beauty combined!
The beauties of that stream were steep,
All-radiant banks of beryl bright;
Sweet-sighing did the water sweep,
With murmuring music running light;
Within its bed fair stones lay deep;
As if through glass they glowed, as white
As streaming stars when tired men sleep
Shine in the sky on a winter night.
Pure emerald even the pebbles seemed,
Sapphire, or other gems that lent
Luster, till all the water gleamed
With the glory of such beauties blent.
The beauty of that stream was steep,
With bright banks shimmering like beryl;
The water flowed with a sweet sigh,
Creating soft music running lightly;
Fair stones lay deep within its bed;
They glowed as if seen through glass, as white
As shining stars that appear when tired men sleep
In the sky on a winter night.
Even the pebbles looked like pure emerald,
Sapphire, or other gems that added
Luster, until the water sparkled
With the glory of such blended beauties.
III
For the beauteousness of downs and dales,
Of wood and water and proud plains,
My joy springs up and my grief quails,
My anguish ends, and all my pains.
A swift stream down the valley hales
My feet along. Bliss brims my brains;
The farther I follow those watery vales,
The stronger joy my heart constrains.
While Fortune fares as her proud will deigns,
Sending solace or sending sore,
When a man her fickle favour gains,
He looketh to have aye more and more.
For the beauty of hills and valleys,
Of woods and waters and vast plains,
My joy rises up and my sadness fades,
My pain ends, and all my troubles.
A swift stream down the valley pulls
My feet along. Bliss fills my mind;
The further I follow those watery valleys,
The stronger the joy that fills my heart.
While Fortune acts as she chooses,
Bringing comfort or bringing pain,
When someone gains her unpredictable favor,
They expect to have more and more.
There was more of marvel and of grace
Than I could tell, howe'er I tried;
The human heart that could embrace
A tenth part were well satisfied;
For Paradise, the very place,
Must be upon that farther side;
The water by a narrow space
Pleasance from pleasance did divide.
Beyond, on some slope undescried
The City stood, I thought, wherefore
I strove to cross the river's tide,
And ever I longed, yet more and more.
There was more wonder and beauty
Than I could express, no matter how hard I tried;
The human heart that could hold
Even a fraction of it would be content;
For Paradise, the actual place,
Must be on that other side;
The water, in a narrow gap,
Separated joy from joy.
Beyond, on some hidden slope,
The City appeared, I thought, so
I tried to cross the river's flow,
And I kept longing, even more and more.
More, and still more wistfully,
The banks beyond the brook I scanned;
If, where I stood, 't was fair to see,
Still lovelier lay that farther land.
I sought if any ford might be
Found, up or down, by rock or sand;
But perils plainer appeared to me,
The farther I strode along the strand;
I thought I ought not thus to stand
Timid, with such bright bliss before;
Then a new matter came to hand
That moved my heart yet more and more.
More and more, with a sense of longing,
I scanned the banks across the stream;
If it was beautiful where I stood,
That distant land seemed even more lovely.
I looked for any crossing I might find,
Up or down, through rock or sand;
But the dangers became clearer to me,
The farther I walked along the shore;
I thought I shouldn’t stay here,
Timid, with such bright happiness ahead;
Then a new thought came to me
That touched my heart even more deeply.
Marvels more and more amaze
My mind beyond that water fair:
From a cliff of crystal, splendid rays,
Reflected, quiver in the air.
At the cliff's foot a vision stays
My glance, a maiden debonaire,
All glimmering white before my gaze;
And I know her,—have seen her otherwhere.
Like fine gold leaf one cuts with care,
Shone the maiden on the farther shore.
Long time I looked upon her there,
And ever I knew her more and more.
Marvels increasingly amaze
My mind beyond that beautiful water:
From a crystal cliff, stunning rays,
Reflected, shimmer in the air.
At the cliff's base, a vision remains
My gaze, a graceful maiden,
All shimmering white before my eyes;
And I know her—I’ve seen her before.
Like fine gold leaf cut with care,
The maiden shone on the distant shore.
I looked at her for a long time there,
And the more I gazed, the more I knew her.
As more and more I scanned her face
And form, when I had found her so,
A glory of gladness filled the place
Beyond all it was wont to show.
My joy would call her and give chase,
But wonder struck my courage low;
I saw her in so strange a place,
The shock turned my heart dull and slow.
But now she lifts that brow aglow,
Like ivory smooth, even as of yore,
It made my senses straying go,
It stung my heart aye more and more.
As I kept looking at her face
And shape, when I found her again,
A rush of happiness filled the room
Way beyond what it usually displayed.
My joy wanted to call her and chase her,
But awe made my courage shrink;
I saw her in such an odd place,
The shock made my heart feel heavy and slow.
But now she raises that glowing brow,
Like smooth ivory, just like before,
It made my senses wander,
It pierced my heart again and again.
IV
More than I liked did my fear rise.
Stock still I stood and dared not call;
With lips close shut and watchful eyes,
I stood as quiet as hawk in hall.
I thought her a spirit from the skies;
I doubted what thing might befall;
If to escape me now she tries,
How shall my voice her flight forestall?
Then graciously and gay withal,
In royal robes, so sweet, so slight,
She rose, so modest and so small,
That precious one in pearls bedight.
My fear grew more than I liked.
I stood completely still and didn’t dare call out;
With my lips tightly shut and eyes wide open,
I stood as quietly as a hawk in a hall.
I thought she was a spirit from the sky;
I wondered what might happen next;
If she tries to escape me now,
How can my voice stop her from flying away?
Then, gracefully and cheerfully,
In royal robes, so lovely and so delicate,
She rose, so modest and so small,
That precious one adorned in pearls.
Pearl bedight full royally,
Adown the bank with merry mien,
Came the maiden, fresh as fleur-de-lys.
Her surcoat linen must have been
Shining in whitest purity,
Slashed at the sides and caught between
With the fairest pearls, it seemed to me,
That ever yet mine eyes had seen;
With large folds falling loose, I ween,
Arrayed with double pearls, her white
Kirtle, of the same linen sheen,
With precious pearls all round was dight.
Pearl adorned like royalty,
Strolling down the bank with a cheerful smile,
Came the young woman, as fresh as a lily.
Her linen dress must have been
Shining in the brightest purity,
Cut at the sides and held together
With the finest pearls I had ever seen;
With large folds falling loosely, I guess,
Dressed in double pearls, her white
Skirt, made of the same shiny linen,
Was surrounded by precious pearls.
A crown with pearls bedight, the girl
Was wearing, and no other stone;
High pinnacled of clear white pearl,
Wrought as if pearls to flowers were grown.
No band nor fillet else did furl
The long locks all about her thrown.
Her air demure as duke or earl,
Her hue more white than walrus-bone;
Like sheer gold thread the bright hair strown
Loose on her shoulders, lying light.
Her colour took a deeper tone
With bordering pearls so fair bedight.
A crown adorned with pearls was on the girl,
And there were no other gems;
High and pointed, made of clear white pearl,
Crafted as if pearls had blossomed into flowers.
No other band or ribbon held tight
The long hair that fell around her.
She carried herself with the grace of a duke or earl,
Her skin whiter than walrus ivory;
Her bright hair, like fine threads of gold,
Flowed loosely over her shoulders, light.
Her complexion took on a richer hue
With the beautiful pearls surrounding her.
Bedight was every hem, and bound,
At wrists, sides, and each aperture,
With pearls the whitest ever found,—
White all her brave investiture;
But a wondrous pearl, a flawless round,
Upon her breast was set full sure;
A man's mind it might well astound,
And all his wits to madness lure.
I thought that no tongue might endure
Fully to tell of that sweet sight,
So was it perfect, clear and pure,
That precious pearl with pearls bedight.
Dressed in every hem and bound,
At her wrists, sides, and every opening,
With the whitest pearls ever seen,—
All part of her brave outfit;
But a stunning pearl, perfectly round,
Was set firmly on her chest;
It could surely amaze any man,
And drive him to madness.
I thought no one could ever fully describe
That beautiful sight,
So flawless, clear, and pure
Was that precious pearl surrounded by other pearls.
Bedight in pearls, lest my joy cease,
That lovely one came down the shore;
The gladdest man from here to Greece,
The eagerest, was I, therefore;
She was nearer kin than aunt or niece,
And thus my joy was much the more.
She spoke to me for my soul's peace,
Courtesied with her quaint woman's lore,
Caught off the shining crown she wore,
And greeted me with glance alight.
I blessed my birth; my bliss brimmed o'er
To answer her in pearls bedight.
Dressed in pearls, to keep my joy alive,
That beautiful one walked along the shore;
The happiest man from here to Greece,
I was the most eager, that's for sure;
She was closer to me than an aunt or niece,
And that made my joy even greater.
She spoke to me for my soul's comfort,
Bowed with her charming woman's grace,
Took off the shiny crown she wore,
And greeted me with a bright smile.
I was grateful for my life; my happiness overflowed,
To respond to her with pearls adorning me.
V
"O Pearl," I said, "in pearls bedight,
Art thou my pearl for which I mourn,
Lamenting all alone at night?
With hidden grief my heart is worn.
Since thou through grass didst slip from sight,
Pensive and pained, I pass forlorn,
And thou livest in a life of light,
A world where enters sin nor scorn.
What fate has hither my jewel borne,
And left me in earth's strife and stir?
Oh, sweet, since we in twain were torn,
I have been a joyless jeweler."
"O Pearl," I said, "dressed in pearls,
Are you the pearl I mourn for,
Grieving all alone at night?
With hidden sadness, my heart is worn.
Since you slipped from sight in the grass,
Thoughtful and hurting, I wander alone,
And you live in a life of light,
In a world free from sin or scorn.
What fate has brought my jewel here,
While I’m left in the struggles of this world?
Oh, sweet, since we were torn apart,
I have been a joyless jeweler."
That Jewel then with gems besprent
Glanced up at me with eyes of grey,
Put on her pearl crown orient,
And soberly began to say:
"You tell your tale with wrong intent,
Thinking your pearl gone quite away.
Like a jewel within a coffer pent,
In this gracious garden bright and gay,
Your pearl may ever dwell at play,
Where sin nor mourning come to her;
It were a joy to thee alway
Wert thou a gentle jeweler.
That Jewel, adorned with gems, Looked up at me with her gray eyes, Put on her delicate pearl crown, And calmly started to say: "You tell your story with the wrong intention, Believing your pearl has completely disappeared. Like a jewel locked away, In this lovely, bright garden, Your pearl can always play, Where neither sin nor sadness can reach her; It would bring you joy forever If you were a kind jeweler."
"But, Jeweler, if thou dost lose
Thy joy for a gem once dear to thee,
Methinks thou dost thy mind abuse,
Bewildered by a fantasy;
Thou hast lost nothing save a rose
That flowered and failed by life's decree:
Because the coffer did round it close,
A precious pearl it came to be.
A thief thou hast dubbed thy destiny
That something for nothing gives thee, sir;
Thou blamest thy sorrow's remedy,
Thou art no grateful jeweler."
"But, Jeweler, if you lose
Your joy for a gem that once meant a lot to you,
I think you’re just confusing yourself,
Lost in a fantasy;
You’ve lost nothing but a rose
That bloomed and withered by life’s terms:
Because the box enclosed it,
It became a precious pearl.
You’ve labeled your fate as a thief
That gives you something for nothing, sir;
You blame the solution to your sorrow,
You’re not a grateful jeweler."
Like jewels did her story fall,
A jewel, every gentle clause;
"Truly," I said, "thou best of all!
My great distress thy voice withdraws.
I thought my pearl lost past recall,
My jewel shut within earth's jaws;
But now I shall keep festival,
And dwell with it in bright wood-shaws;
And love my Lord and all His laws,
Who hath brought this bliss. Ah! if I were
Beyond these waves, I should have cause
To be a joyful jeweler."
Like jewels, her story sparkled,
A gem in every gentle phrase;
"Truly," I said, "you're the best of all!
Your voice takes away my great distress.
I thought my pearl was lost forever,
My jewel trapped in the earth's grip;
But now I'll celebrate,
And enjoy it in the bright woodlands;
And love my Lord and all His laws,
Who has brought me this happiness. Ah! if I were
Beyond these waves, I'd have every reason
To be a joyful jeweler."
"Jeweler," said that Gem so dear,
"Why jest ye men, so mad ye be?
Three sayings thou hast spoken clear,
And unconsidered were all three;
Their meaning thou canst not come near,
Thy word before thy thought doth flee.
First, thou believest me truly here,
Because with eyes thou mayst me see;
Second, with me in this country
Thou wilt dwell, whatever may deter;
Third, that to cross here thou art free:
That may no joyful jeweler."
"Jeweler," said that precious Gem,
"Why do you joke, when you’re so crazy?
You’ve spoken three things clearly,
But you didn’t think through any of them;
You can’t grasp their meaning,
Your words rush out before your thoughts can catch up.
First, you think you really know me here,
Just because you can see me with your eyes;
Second, you’ll live with me in this place,
No matter what might hold you back;
Third, that you’re free to cross here:
That’s something no happy jeweler can claim."
VI
The jeweler merits little praise,
Who loves but what he sees with eye,
And it were a discourteous phrase
To say our Lord would make a lie,
Who surely pledged thy soul to raise,
Though fate should cause thy flesh to die.
Thou dost twist His words in crooked ways
Believing only what is nigh;
This is but pride and bigotry,
That a good man may ill assume,
To hold no matter trustworthy
Till like a judge he hear and doom.
The jeweler deserves little praise,
Who loves only what he can see,
And it would be rude to say
That our Lord could tell a lie,
Who surely promised to lift your soul,
Even if fate should cause your body to die.
You twist His words in strange ways
Believing only what is close at hand;
This is nothing but pride and bigotry,
That a good person might wrongly take on,
To trust nothing as true
Until he hears and judges like a court.
"Whate'er thy doom, dost thou complain
As man should speak to God most high?
Thou wouldst gladly dwell in this domain;
'T were best, methinks, for leave to apply.
Even so, perchance, thou pleadest in vain.
Across this water thou wouldst fly,—
To other end thou must attain.
Thy corpse to clay comes verily,—
In Paradise 't was ruined by
Our forefather. Now in the womb
Of dreary death each man must lie,
Ere God on this bank gives his doom."
"Whatever your fate, do you complain
As a person should speak to God on high?
You would gladly live in this world;
It seems best to ask for permission.
Even so, perhaps, you plead in vain.
Across this water, you would fly,—
To the other side you must reach.
Your body will return to the earth,
In Paradise, it was destroyed by
Our ancestor. Now in the womb
Of dreary death, each person must lie,
Before God on this shore gives his verdict."
"Doom me not, sweet, to my old fears
And pain again wherein I pine.
My pearl that, long, long lost, appears,
Shall I again forego, in fine?
Meet it, and miss it through more years?
Thou hast hurt me with that threat of thine.
For what serves treasure but for tears,
One must so soon his bliss resign?
I reck not how my days decline,
Though far from earth my soul seek room,
Parted from that dear pearl of mine.
Save endless dole what is man's doom?"
"Don’t sentence me, my love, to my old fears
And the pain I feel again.
My pearl, long lost, now reappears,
Shall I let it go once more, in the end?
Face it, and miss it for more years?
You’ve hurt me with that threat of yours.
What is treasure good for but tears?
Must one so quickly give up their happiness?
I don’t care how my days go by,
Even if my soul seeks a place beyond this world,
Separated from that dear pearl of mine.
Aside from endless sorrow, what is a man’s fate?"
"No doom save pain and soul's distress?"
She answered: "Wherefore thinkst thou so?
For pain of parting with the less,
Man often lets the greater go.
'T were better thou thy fate shouldst bless,
And love thy God, through weal and woe;
For anger wins not happiness;
Who must, shall bear; bend thy pride low;
For though thou mayst dance to and fro,
Struggle and shriek, and fret and fume,
When thou canst stir not, swift nor slow,
At last, thou must endure His doom."
"No doom except for pain and the distress of the soul?"
She replied, "Why do you think that?
For in the pain of parting with the lesser,
People often let go of the greater.
It would be better for you to bless your fate,
And love your God, through good times and bad;
Because anger doesn't lead to happiness;
Those who must, will endure; lower your pride;
For even if you dance back and forth,
Struggle, scream, and get all worked up,
When you cannot move at all,
In the end, you must accept His will."
"Let God doom as He doth ordain;
He will not turn one foot aside;
Thy good deeds mount up but in vain,
Thou must in sorrow ever bide;
Stint of thy strife, cease to complain,
Seek His compassion safe and wide,
Thy prayer His pity may obtain,
Till Mercy all her might have tried.
Thy anguish He will heal and hide,
And lightly lift away thy gloom;
For, be thou sore or satisfied,
All is for Him to deal and doom."
"Let God decide as He sees fit;
He won't step away from His plan;
Your good deeds may rise but won't matter,
You must endure your sorrow always;
Stop your struggles, quit your complaints,
Seek His compassion, safe and generous,
Your prayers might win His kindness,
Until Mercy has done all she can.
He will heal and conceal your pain,
And gently lift away your sadness;
Because whether you’re hurting or content,
Everything is for Him to handle and decide."
VII
Doom me not, dearest damosel;
It is not for wrath nor bitterness,
If rash and raving thoughts I tell.
For sin my heart seethed in distress,
Like bubbling water in a well.
I cry God mercy, and confess.
Rebuke me not with words so fell;
I have lost all that my life did bless;
Comfort my sorrow and redress,
Piteously thinking upon this:
Grief and my soul thou hast made express
One music,—thou who wert my bliss.
Do not condemn me, dear lady;
It's not out of anger or bitterness,
If I share my reckless and frantic thoughts.
For my heart is boiling with distress,
Like water bubbling in a well.
I ask God for mercy and confess.
Please don’t scold me with hurtful words;
I have lost everything that made my life good;
Bring some comfort to my sorrow and help me,
Thinking sadly about this:
Grief and my soul have combined to express
A single sound—you who were my happiness.
"My bliss and bale, thou hast been both,
But joy by great grief was undone;
When thou didst vanish, by my troth,
I knew not where my Pearl was gone.
To lose thee now I were most loth.
Dear, when we parted we were one;
Now God forbid that we be wroth,
We meet beneath the moon or sun
So seldom. Gently thy words run,
But I am dust, my deeds amiss;
The mercy of Christ and Mary and John
Is root and ground of all my bliss."
"My joy and sorrow, you’ve been both,
But happiness faded with great sadness;
When you disappeared, I swear,
I didn’t know where my Pearl had gone.
To lose you now would be unbearable.
Darling, when we parted we were one;
Now God forbid that we be angry,
We meet under the moon or sun
So rarely. Your words flow gently,
But I am dust, my actions wrong;
The mercy of Christ, Mary, and John
Is the foundation of all my joy."
"A blissful life I see thee lead,
The while that I am sorrow's mate;
Haply thou givest little heed
What might my burning hurt abate.
Since I may in thy presence plead,
I do beseech thee thou narrate,
Soberly, surely, word and deed,
What life is thine, early and late?
I am fain of thy most fair estate;
The high road of my joy is this,
That thou hast happiness so great;
It is the ground of all my bliss."
"I see you living a happy life,
While I am stuck with this sorrow;
Maybe you pay little attention
To what could ease my burning pain.
Since I can plead in your presence,
I ask you to share,
Honestly, without a doubt, in thought and action,
What your life is like, day and night?
I'm really fond of your wonderful situation;
The path to my joy is this:
That you have such great happiness;
It's the reason for all my bliss."
She said, "May bliss to thee betide,"
Her face with beauty beaming clear,
"Welcome thou art here to abide,
For now thy speech is to me dear.
Masterful mood and haughty pride,
I warn thee win but hatred here;
For my Lord loveth not to chide
And meek are all that to Him come near.
When in His place thou shalt appear,
To kneel devout be not remiss,
My Lord the Lamb loveth such cheer,
Who is the ground of all my bliss."
She said, "May happiness come to you,"
Her face shining with clear beauty,
"Welcome, you are here to stay,
For now, your words mean a lot to me.
With your masterful attitude and pride,
I warn you, you will find only hatred here;
For my Lord doesn’t like to scold
And those who approach Him are humble.
When you stand before Him,
Don’t forget to kneel sincerely,
My Lord the Lamb loves such devotion,
He is the source of all my joy."
"Thou sayest a blissful life I know,
And thou wouldst learn of its degree.
Thou rememberest when thy pearl fell low
In earth, I was but young to see;
But my Lord the Lamb, as if to show
His grace, took me His bride to be,
Crowned me a queen in bliss to go
Through length of days eternally;
And dowered with all His wealth is she
Who is His love, and I am His;
His worthiness and royalty
Are root and ground of all my bliss."
"You say you know a blissful life,
And you want to understand its depth.
You remember when your pearl fell low
To the ground, I was too young to see;
But my Lord the Lamb, as if to show
His grace, took me to be His bride,
Crowned me a queen to enjoy
A lifetime of happiness;
And blessed with all His riches is she
Who is His love, and I am His;
His worthiness and royalty
Are the foundation of all my happiness."
VIII
"My blissful one, may this be true.
Pardon if I speak ill," I prayed:
"Art thou the queen o' the heaven's blue,
To whom earth's honour shall be paid?
We believe in Mary, of grace who grew,
A mother, yet a blameless maid;
To wear her crown were only due
To one who purer worth displayed.
For perfectness by none gainsaid,
We call her the Phoenix of Araby,
That flies in faultless charm arrayed,
Like to the Queen of courtesy."
"My beloved, may this be true.
Forgive me if I speak negatively," I prayed:
"Are you the queen of the sky so blue,
To whom earth's respect shall be given?
We believe in Mary, who grew in grace,
A mother, yet a sinless maid;
To wear her crown is truly fitting
For perfection by none contested,
We call her the Phoenix of Arabia,
That flies in flawless charm arrayed,
Like the Queen of courtesy."
"Courteous Queen," that bright one said,
And, kneeling, lifted up her face:
"Matchless Mother and merriest Maid,
Blessèd Beginner of every grace."
Then she arose, and softly stayed,
And spoke to me across that space:
"Sir, many seek gain here, and are paid,
But defrauders are none within this place;
That Empress may all heaven embrace,
And earth and hell in her empery;
Her from her heritage none will chase,
For she is Queen of courtesy."
"Courteous Queen," that bright one said,
And, kneeling, lifted her face:
"Unmatched Mother and happiest Maid,
Blessed Beginning of every grace."
Then she stood up and softly lingered,
And spoke to me across that space:
"Sir, many seek rewards here and receive them,
But there are no frauds in this place;
That Empress may embrace all of heaven,
And earth and hell in her empire;
No one will take her from her heritage,
For she is Queen of courtesy."
"The court of the kingdom of God doth thrive
Only because of this wondrous thing:
Each one who therein may arrive,
Of the realm is either queen or king;
And no one the other doth deprive,
But is fain of his fellow's guerdoning,
And would wish each crown might be worth five,
If possible were their bettering.
But my Lady, from whom our Lord did spring,
Rules over all our company,
And for that we all rejoice and sing,
Since she is Queen of courtesy."
"The court of the kingdom of God thrives
Only because of this amazing thing:
Everyone who gets to join in
Is either a queen or a king;
No one takes away from another,
But is happy for their friend's winning,
And wishes each crown could be worth five,
If improving it were possible.
But my Lady, from whom our Lord came,
Rules over our entire group,
And for that, we all celebrate and sing,
Since she is the Queen of kindness."
"Of courtesy, as says St. Paul,
Members of Christ we may be seen.
As head and arm and leg, and all,
Bound to the body close have been,
Each Christian soul himself may call
A living limb of his Lord, I ween.
And see how neither hate nor gall
'Twixt limb and limb may intervene;
The head shows neither spite nor spleen,
Though arm and finger jewelled be,
So fare we all in love serene,
As kings and queens by courtesy."
"According to St. Paul,
We can be seen as members of Christ.
Like the head, arms, and legs, all
Are closely connected to the body,
Each Christian can consider themselves
A living part of their Lord, I believe.
And notice how neither hate nor bitterness
Can come between limbs;
The head shows neither anger nor resentment,
Even if the arm and finger are adorned;
So we all move forward in peaceful love,
Like kings and queens with grace."
"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?"
"Kindness is like flowers among your people,
And charity, I truly believe.
If silly words slip from my lips,
Don't let my words sadden your spirit.
A queen in heaven while still so young,
You raise yourself too high.
So what reward comes from the struggle?
What honor could he attain
Who lived in penance morning and night,
Through physical pain to find bliss?
Could he receive more honor,
Than being crowned king through kindness?"
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."
"That kind of respect doesn't earn any good deed
If everything you say is true;
You didn’t live for two years
And never learned to please God or to pray,
Knew neither the Our Father nor any creed,
And became a queen on the very first day!
I can't believe, God help me!
That God would stray from what is right;
As a countess, lady, I swear!
To live in heaven would be a nice gift,
Or like a lady of lesser status,
But a queen! Oh no! It's 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.'"
"With Him, there is no early or late,"
Replied to me that worthy person;
"His high command is always true;
He does no wrong, day or night.
Listen to Matthew in the mass,
In the Gospel of the powerful God,
His parable illustrates the state
Of the Kingdom of Heaven, clear as day:
'My servants,' He says, 'I reward
Like a lord who will tend his vineyard;
The time of year is right,
And workers need to 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?'"
"Right away, the workers all see
How the master rose at dawn;
He went out to hire laborers,
And chose strong, sturdy workers.
They all agreed for a penny a day,
Just as the master suggested,
They worked hard and put in effort,
Pruning, tying, and digging ditches.
Then he went to the marketplace,
And found men idle at noon:
'How can someone just stand here
When the vineyards need to be worked on 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."
"As soon as day broke, we came here,
And no one has asked for our help;
We've been standing here since the sun rose,
And no one tells us to do anything.'
'Everyone, come into my vineyard,'
The master replied without hesitation:
'I will honestly pay for the work each of you did at night,
Withholding nothing.'
They went among the vines and worked,
While morning, noon, and afternoon passed,
The master brought in more laborers,
Until nightfall was approaching."
"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."
"Before long, it was time for evening prayers.
An hour before sunset,
He noticed more young and strong people just hanging around;
His voice was filled with regret:
'Why are you all just standing there all day?'
'No one has hired us yet,' they replied.
'Go to my vineyard, you have nothing to fear;
Every person will receive a fair wage.'
The day became darker and darker,
'Before the moon rises;
The master who would settle his debts,
Ordered all the workers to be called in 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.'"
"The lord soon called his steward: 'Go
Bring in the men as quickly as you can;
Give them the wages I owe,
And, so they don’t say anything against me,
Line them up here in a row,
Pay each one the same amount;
Start with the last who came in,
And then move on to the first,'
And then the first started to complain,
Saying they had worked really hard:
'These guys only worked for one hour,
We think we should get paid 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?"
"'We’ve worked more,' they whispered, 'Who have endured the long day’s heat, Than those who barely worked for two hours; Why should their claim compete with ours?' The master replied: 'I’m paying what I owe; You’ll meet no injustice here; Take what’s yours and leave. We settled for a penny in the street; Why are you now asking for more? You were satisfied before. Once a deal is made, it’s done; Why do you threaten and 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."
"'What could I give you
That I won’t willingly do?
Don’t let your eyes wander to evil,
Because I am trustworthy and true.'
'So I,' said Christ, 'will judge everyone.
The last will be first among you;
And the first will be last, no matter how fast,
For many are called, but few are chosen.'
And so, poor people will get their due,
Who have carried their burdens for so long;
Their work may disappear like dew,
The mercy of God is much greater.'"
"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."
"I feel more joy here,
From the beauty of life and a good reputation,
Than anyone else in the world could gain,
Who thought their good deeds should be recognized.
Still, I just started;
As night fell, I arrived at the vineyard,
But my Lord didn’t consider it a sin;
He paid me fairly without any issues.
Yet others didn’t have the same luck,
Who worked hard there before,
And couldn’t claim their pay,
Perhaps they won’t for another year."
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."
Then I spoke more openly:
"I can't find any reason in your story;
God's righteousness is always active,
Otherwise, the Holy Scriptures are just a myth.
Let’s take a verse from the Psalms,
One that sums up this lesson well:
'You reward everyone according to their deeds,
You, the high and all-knowing King.'
If one man worked hard all day,
And you were paid ahead of time,
The most pay goes to the least working,
And always the one who does less gets 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."
"Where God reigns,
There’s no luck," she said softly,
"Whether someone gains a lot or a little,
Everyone is rewarded equally here.
Our High Leader isn't stingy,
But generously shares His gifts,
Like streams flowing freely from a moat,
Or rushing waves that surge unrestrained.
Everyone receives His forgiveness if they pray
To the one who pledged to save humanity,
His blessings are abundant and timely,
For the grace of God is more than enough."
"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 now you would checkmate my wit,
Making my efforts seem wrong;
You say that I have come too late,
To be worthy of such a large reward here;
Yet have you ever seen anyone, big or small,
Living in prayer and holy fear,
Who didn’t lose at some point
The reward of heaven to be fully deserving?
In fact, much more often, year by year,
Everyone strays from the right and bows to evil;
Mercy and grace must find their way,
For the grace of God is certainly great enough."
"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."
"But now of grace have the innocent
Newborn, before the sacred altar,
They are blessed with water in baptism,
And thus are brought into the family.
Soon the day mixed with darkness,
Death by its power makes to fade;
Who did no wrong before they left,
The gentle Lord receives, in the end;
They followed His will, they bore His mark,
Why wouldn’t He honor their claim?
Yes, and reward them, I believe,
For the grace of God is truly great."
"'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."
It’s well known that all of humanity
Was originally created for perfect happiness;
Our ancestor gave up that gift,
All for the sake of an apple, I swear;
We fell into condemnation, due to our foolishness,
To endure great suffering in hell’s depths;
But Someone found a solution
So we wouldn’t lose our chance at heaven.
He suffered on the cross for us,
Red blood flowed from His crowned head;
He saved us through His pain,
For God’s grace is truly great.
"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."
Now from that well there flowed,
Blood and water from His deep wound:
The blood redeemed us from the misery of hell,
And we found deliverance from the second death.
The water is baptism, to be honest,
That followed the spear that was so sharply ground,
And cleanses away the heaviest guilt
Of those that Adam drowned in death.
Now there is nothing in the whole world,
To keep us from the bliss that God gave to
Mankind,—restored to us safe and sound,
For the grace of God is truly abundant.
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."
"Grace is something a man can receive
Through repentance, even if he sins again;
But with prolonged sorrow and regret,
He has to endure punishment and pain;
Yet righteous reasoning won’t allow
The innocent to suffer for no reason;
God has never issued a judgment that
Those who are blameless should face any strain.
The sinful soul who desires mercy
Can find forgiveness if he truly repents,
But the one who stays sinless
Is definitely saved because he is 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."
"Two men are saved by God's grace,
Who have each done His will:
The righteous man will see His face,
The innocent still dwells with Him.
In the Psalms, you can find a case:
'Lord, who can climb to Your high hill,
Or rest in Your Holy Place?'
The psalmist explains the meaning:
'Whoever has never done harm with his hands,
And has never let his heart turn to evil,
He will know how to ascend there;
So the innocent are surely saved.'"
"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."
"That the righteous are saved, I believe for sure;
Before God’s palace, they will stand
Who never took a life for no reason,
Who never plotted to flatter a friend.
About the righteous, the Wise Man writes clearly
How kindly our King commands them;
In strict ways, He guides them,
Yet shows them the grand and great kingdom,
As if to say: 'Look! That beautiful land!
You can win it if that’s what you really want.'
But without any danger on either side,
The innocent are surely saved."
"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 righteous saved, hear one man say—
David, who in the Psalms cried:
'O Lord, never call Your servant to account,
For no living person is justified.'
So you, if you come one day
To the court that decides every case,
May pray for mercy with justice
Through this same text that I found.
But may He who died on the bloody cross,
His holy hands pierced with nails,
Let you pass when you are judged,
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."
"Of the sinless saved the tale is told,—
Read in the Book where it is said:
When Jesus walked among people long ago,
The crowd made a way for Him;
Bringing their kids for Him to hold,
They asked for the blessing of His hand.
The twelve scolded them: 'Too bold
To bother the Master;' and tried to stop them.
But Jesus said: 'Do not be afraid;
Let the children come, don't hinder them;
God's kingdom is meant for such as these.'
Surely, the innocent are saved."
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."
"Christ called the gentle innocents to Him,
And said no one can enter His kingdom,
Unless they come there like a child—Not
any other way can they get in,
Harmless, faithful, pure,
Without a trace of sin—For
those who haven't been deceived by the world
Will joyfully have the gate opened for them.
There, that endless joy will begin,
The merchant sought, and was quickly led
To trade everything people make,
To purchase a flawless pearl."
"'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."
"'This unblemished pearl, purchased at a high cost,
For which the merchant gave up his wealth,
Is like the clear kingdom of heaven;'
So said the Creator of the world and the sea.
It is a flawless, perfect sphere,
Polished and pure, bright and courageous;
As it appears on my heart,
It is available to all who pursue virtue.
My Lord, the Lamb Who died to save,
Here placed it as a reminder of His shed blood
For peace. So let the wild world go on,
But you should buy this unblemished pearl."
"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?"
"O Pearl without flaws, dressed in pure pearls,
That carries," I said, "the priceless pearl,
Who created your shape—and your garments?
Truly, he worked with great skill;
For your beauty, beyond nature's best,
Surpasses Pygmalion's craftsmanship;
Nor did Aristotle possess the knowledge
To describe in words such a lovely creation.
You are three times fairer than the fleur-de-lys,
With an angelic demeanor and noble upbringing—
Tell me truly: in Paradise,
What does the unblemished pearl signify?"
"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."
"My perfect Lamb, who heals everything,"
She replied, "my dear Destiny,
Chose me to seal our marriage bond;
Unworthy, He adorned me wonderfully,
Bringing me from your world's sorrow to joy.
He called me out of His kindness:
'Come here to me, my loyal lover,
For there is no flaw or blemish in you.'
He gave me my strength and great beauty;
He washed my garments in His bright red blood,
And crowned me, forever clean to be,
And clothed me in spotless pearls."
"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?"
"Spotless bride, stunning to see,
That royalty possesses so richly and rarely,
What is this Lamb that you've spoken of,
Who has called you as His wedded wife there?
Do you boldly stand above all the rest,
As His chosen lady to share His life?
So many, beautiful in golden hair,
Have lived for Christ in struggle and care,
Must these go to a lesser place,
That none may wed Him but you alone,
So proud and lovely,
Matchless 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."
"Unblemished," she replied again,
"Without a trace of black or gray,
With honor, I can proudly claim this;
But I didn’t call myself 'peerless Queen.'
Brides of the Lamb, in joy we rule,
One hundred and forty thousand bright,
As made clear in the Apocalypse,
Saint John saw them one day;
On the hill of Zion, he saw them stay,
In vision, his spirit looked upon them,
Dressed in bright array for the wedding,
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.'"
"Let me tell you about Jerusalem;
And if you want to see who He is—
My Lamb, my Lord, my precious Jewel,
My Joy, my Love, my freely given Bliss,—
The prophet Isaiah writes beautifully
About His gentle humility:
'He was innocent when people accused Him
For He had no faults or crimes,
Like a sheep led to slaughter was He;
Quiet, while the crowd mocked Him,
Like a lamb in the shearer's hands,
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."
"In Jerusalem, my Lover was killed,
Torn on the cross by bold men;
He was eager to bear our struggles,
To endure our countless sorrows;
Beaten until blood stained
That beautiful face;
He took on all sin and pain,
Even He of Whom no sin is mentioned;
On the rough cross, stretched out, faint and cold,
He allowed people to mock and condemn Him;
Gentle 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.'"
"At Jerusalem, Jordan, and Galilee,
Wherever Saint John came to baptize,
His words match Isaiah's words perfectly.
He looked up at Jesus,
Referring to Him with this prophecy:
'Look, the Lamb of God!' he shouts:
'This is the one who carries the world's sins!
All the guilt rests on Him,
Even though He did no wrong.
Who can recount the branches that come from that root?
It’s He who dies
For us 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."
"In Jerusalem, my sweet Lover
Appeared twice as gentle as a lamb,
Just as the prophets say,
So humble was the demeanor He wore;
The third time too, as is right,
It’s clearly written in the Revelation.
Reading a book on His high seat
In the center of the throne surrounded by saints,
The Apostle John saw Him nearby;
That book had seven sacred seals;
And at that sight, everyone felt fear
In hell, on earth, and in 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.
This Jerusalem Lamb has never had a stain
Of any color other than pure white,
That shows no mark or flaw
Of dirt, but looks like wool to the eye;
And souls that stay free of sin
The Lamb welcomes with joy;
And, even though we gain a group each day,
There’s no conflict for space or standing,
Nor rivalry to spoil our happiness.
The more, the merrier, I say.
In community, our love shines brighter,
In honor 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."
"Lessening of joy no eater brings
To us who hold this pearl close;
Nor do they show any flaws or tarnish
Who wear such pure pearls with pride.
Though the clay clings around our bodies,
And though you mourn us endlessly,
We know of good things.
Through the first death, we test our hope;
Grief fades; at each mass we are blessed
By the Lamb Who grants us joy;
The happiness of each is bright and best,
And no one's honor is diminished."
"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."
"To make sure you doubt my tale less,
It’s told in the Revelation, and more:
'I saw,' says John, 'a beautiful crowd
Covering the hill of Zion,
The Lamb, surrounded by maidens,
One hundred forty-four thousand in all,
And each forehead, clearly inscribed,
With the names of the Lamb and His Father.
Then I heard a sound pouring from heaven,
Like streams, heavy and bubbling,
Or like thunder roaring among dark cliffs,
The commotion was intense, 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."
"Still, even though the shout was loud,
And the voices echoed nearby,
I heard them sing a brand-new tune,
And it was both sweet and odd to hear.
Like a harpist's hands on the strings,
That new song they sang so clearly;
The noble notes vibrated,
And gentle words reached my ears.
Close to God's throne, without any fear,
Where the four beasts acknowledge His power,
And the elders stand so seriously happy,
They sang their new song, just the same."
"'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."
"Still, no one has skills as fine,
For all the crafts they ever mastered,
That could sing even a line of that song;
Except for those who have the Lamb in sight;
Brought from earth to that divine land,
As the first fruits that are due to God,
They serve the Lamb and bear His mark,
Resembling Him in face and appearance;
For never did a lie or false tale
Pollute their lips in life’s hardships;
Whatever might influence them, they only drew
Closer to the Master, nonetheless."
"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."
"Still, I have to speak out,
My Pearl, even if I ask rude questions.
It wouldn't be fair to test your cleverness
Since Christ chose you for His own chamber.
Look, I'm just dirt and dust,
And you're a rare and radiant rose,
Living here in life, and desire
For beauty that keeps growing.
Like a deer that knows no deception,
I must express my one doubt;
Though I'm as loud as the wind that blows,
Let my prayer reach you nonetheless."
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.
Yet, still, I call on you,
If you will truly listen,
As you are glorious above all,
Pay attention while I ask you.
Within some magnificent castle wall,
Do you not have beautiful homes to see?
Of David's city, rich and royal,
Jerusalem, you tell me.
In Palestine, it must be located;
In the wild, none have ever seen such.
Since your purity is flawless,
Your homes should be without fault.
"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."
"Now this beautiful and perfect crowd,
Crowded with thousands, as you say,
They must definitely have,
A lovely city to live in.
It would be odd if they lived without one;
For such a bright group, it wouldn’t be right;
Yet I see no buildings around here.
Are you lingering like in a forest hideaway,
All alone and hidden, enchanted
By the rushing stream and sparkling grove?
If you have a home beyond this valley,
Now show me that flawless city."
"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."
"Not perfect is the city in Judah's land,"
That gentle one spoke softly to me,
"But the Lamb blessed it when He planned
To suffer there greatly for humanity's sake.
That is the old city we recognize,
And there the chains of past guilt were broken;
But the new, sent down from God's hand,
The Apostle John took as his theme.
The Lamb, pure and without a blemish,
Called His faithful people there;
For His flock, He does not need to create a fenced-in place,
Nor a moat for His city, unblemished and free."
"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."
"To perfectly understand what two Jerusalems may mean
The first of them
Is 'the Sight of Peace' as described
In the word of God, for the gospel reveals
How our peace has been secured there,
Since the Savior chose to suffer there;
In the other, peace is always found,
A peace that never ends.
To that shining city, the spirit goes
When the body has fallen under death's rule;
There, glorious joy forever blooms
For His beautiful people who are without 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."
"Flawless maid, so gentle and humble,"
Then I said to that beautiful flower:
"Let me seek that grand city,
And let me see your joyful bower."
That radiant one replied, "You're too weak,
You can't enter its tower;
Yet I did ask the Lamb
For this precious gift, that He would bless
Your eyes with the sight for just one hour,—
From outside,—inside, no one has ever seen;
To step into that street, you don't have the power,
Unless your soul is 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.
"This beautiful sight I won’t hide;
You must head toward the stream's source,
While I’ll stay close on this side,
Until that hill reveals the town."
And then I could no longer wait,
But slipped through branches, bending low,
Until from the peak I caught sight,
Through green leaves swaying to and fro,
Far away, the city, all aglow,
That shone brighter than bright sunbeams.
It’s described like this,
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.
As John the Apostle witnessed the scene,
I saw that city, standing close
To Jerusalem, so royally adorned,
As if it had come down from Heaven.
The city, all of gold, shone bright,
Like sparkling glass that glimmers clear.
With precious stones perfectly placed:
Twelve foundations made of the finest gems,
Crafted wonderfully, layer upon layer.
Each base was made from a different stone,
Just as it perfectly appears
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 named the stones that he had seen,
I knew the order he arranged;
The first must have been jasper,
That on the lowest base was laid,
Beneath the rest it glinted green;
A sapphire was in the second place;
Chalcedony, perfectly clean,
In the third tier was beautifully laid;
Fourth, emerald, of the greenest hue,
Fifth, sardonyx, was raised upon;
The sixth was a ruby, as it's 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.
John added to these the chrysolite,
The seventh gem in that foundation;
The eighth, a beryl, clear and white;
The topaz, ninth, shining bright;
Tenth, chrysophrase, both soft and bright;
Eleventh, the jacinth, translucent;
And twelfth, the noblest to mention,
Amethyst, mingled blue and purple.
The wall above those foundations was
Jasper, like glass that shimmered;
I saw, as the story shows,—
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.
I saw, as John describes clearly:
The huge stones rose like a wide staircase;
Above, the city, to me,
Appeared square in height, length, and width;
The jasper wall gleamed like amber,
The golden streets shone like glass;
The homes radiated in a glorious way
With every stone incredibly rich and rare.
Each section of bright wall built there
Stretched on for twelve furlongs;
And height, length, and width were all equal:
"I saw someone measure it," writes 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.
As John writes more than I can see:
Each wall had three gates;
I could spot twelve in a row,
Gateways decorated with shiny gold plates;
I saw a single pearl at each gate,
A flawless pearl, as John tells.
On each one, a name was inscribed high
Of Israel's sons in order of age,
The oldest first, just as the story goes.
In those streets, whether night or day,
Light shines without interruption;
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.
They didn’t need the sun or moon;
For God Himself was their light,
The Lamb was their lantern for sure;
From Him, the city shone so bright.
My eyes could move through wall and home,
Such clarity couldn’t block my sight.
You could notice the high throne;
With drapes of dazzling white,
As John the Apostle writes;
The High God Himself sat there.
From the throne, a river flowed
That 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 sun and moon never shone so beautifully
As the full flow of that bright stream;
It rushed swiftly through every street,
Untainted, the water gleamed.
I did not see chapel or church;
To me, there’s no temple like that;
The Almighty is their true minister,
The Lamb their ultimate sacrifice.
The gates have no bolt or beam,
They stand wide open day and night;
No one who is stained by sin
Should dream of entering there 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.
The moon can't gain any power there,
She's too uneven, gray, and bleak;
Besides, there's never night in sight,
So why should the moon glow full and bright
To compete with the glorious light
That shines on the river's edge?
The planets are in tough shape;
Even the sun feels way too weak.
Next to the stream, tall trees so neat
Bear living fruits that no one prunes;
Twelve times a year, each branch bows low,
Renewed with fruit 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.
Beneath the moon, it might be hard
For a mortal heart to take it all in
The wonder that astonished my eyes,
Crafted to captivate and draw me in.
I stood as still as a startled quail,
Awestruck by its beautiful shape,
I felt neither rest nor struggle,
Enchanted before such pure light.
I say this with absolute certainty,
If mankind's eyes had seen that gift,
Even the wisest scholars looking for a solution,
Would have lost their lives 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.
Now, even as the full moon might rise
Before daylight gives way to darkness,
Suddenly, I saw with quiet surprise
Within that shining city wall,
The streets crowded in a remarkable way,
Silent, without a herald's call,
With young women in the same dress
As my beloved, sweet and small.
Each head was adorned with a crown,
Made of pearls, and every robe was white;
On each chest was an imperial badge,
The Pearl of Price, bringing 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.
With great joy, they walked together
On shiny golden streets;
To a hundred thousand quickly growing,
And they all wore the same clothes:
Who could know the happiest face?
The Lamb proudly walked ahead,
His seven horns shining bright like red gold,
His robes valued like pearls.
They made their way toward the throne,
None crowded in that bright group,
But gentle as maidens when mass is said,
They moved forward with great joy.
The great delight His coming gave,
It were too much for me to tell.
When He approached the Elders grave,
Prone there before His feet they fell;
Legions of summoned angels brave
Swayed censers of the sweetest smell;
With music like a mighty wave,
All sang in praise of that gay Jewel.
The hymn might strike through earth to hell
That with joy those hosts of heaven recite;
To praise the Lamb I liked full well,
Amid the group in great delight.
The huge joy His arrival brought,
Is too much for me to explain.
When He came to the Elder’s grave,
They fell before His feet in pain;
Groups of brave angels summoned there
Swayed incense with the sweetest scent;
With music that crashed like a wave,
They all sang praises to that bright Jewel.
The hymn could reach from earth to hell,
As the joyful hosts of heaven sang;
I loved to praise the Lamb so well,
Amid the crowd in great delight.
Delighted, I would fain devise
His loveliness, with mind intent:
First was He, blithest, best to prize,
Of all on whom man's speech is spent;
So nobly white His draperies,
Such grace His simple glances lent;
But a wide, wet wound my gaze descries
Beneath His heart, through His skin rent;
Down His white side the blood was sent.
Alas! I thought, what scorn or spite
Could any human heart have bent
In such a deed to take delight?
I was thrilled and wanted to describe
His beauty, focused in my thoughts:
He was the happiest, the one to cherish,
Of all whom people talk about;
His robes were purest white,
And his simple looks held such grace;
But I noticed a deep, bloody wound
Beneath His heart, through His torn skin;
Blood flowed down His white side.
Oh no! I wondered, what kind of scorn or hate
Could drive anyone's heart
To find pleasure in such an act?
The Lamb's delight might no man doubt,
Though that wide wound His hurt displayed,
From His fair face looked lovely out
Glad glances, glorious, unafraid,
I looked upon His shining rout,
With fullest life so bright arrayed,
My little queen there moved about,
I had thought beside me in the glade.
Ah Lord! how much of mirth she made!
Among her peers she was so white!
The stream I surely needs must wade,
For longing love, in great delight.
The Lamb's joy is undeniable,
Even though that deep wound showed His pain,
Joyful eyes shone beautifully from His face,
Radiant and fearless,
I gazed at His shimmering company,
Full of vibrant life and brightness,
My little queen moved around there,
I had thought she would be beside me in the glade.
Oh Lord! How much happiness she brought!
Among her friends, she was the brightest!
I surely have to cross the stream,
For longing love, in pure delight.
XX
Delight that flooded eye and ear
My mortal mind beatified;
When I saw her, I must reach my dear,
Though she beyond the brook abide.
Nothing, I thought, could keep me here,
No crippling blow hold my strength tied;
I would plunge, whatever interfere,
And swim the stream, though there I died.
But ere the water I had tried,
Even as I would my vow fulfill,
From my purpose I was turned aside;
It was not to my Prince's will.
Delight filled my eyes and ears
My mortal mind was lifted;
When I saw her, I had to reach my dear,
Even though she stayed across the brook.
I thought nothing could hold me back,
No setback could keep my strength down;
I would dive in, no matter what got in my way,
And swim the stream, even if it meant my end.
But before I even tried the water,
Just as I was about to keep my promise,
I was drawn away from my goal;
It wasn’t what my Prince desired.
My wilful purpose pleased not Him,
That I with headlong zeal essayed;
Though I was rash of thought and limb,
Yet suddenly my deed was stayed.
As I sprang forward to the brim,
The action in my dreaming made
Me waken in my arbour trim.
My head upon the mound was laid
Where my pearl to the grass once strayed.
I stretched my body, frightened, chill,
And, sighing, to myself I said:
"Now all be to the Prince's will."
My stubborn intentions didn't please Him,
As I rushed in with reckless excitement;
Even though I acted thoughtlessly,
Suddenly, I hesitated.
As I leaped forward to the edge,
The action in my dream made
Me wake up in my cozy spot.
I placed my head on the mound
Where my pearl had once fallen into the grass.
I stretched out, feeling scared and cold,
And, sighing, I said to myself:
"Now everything is up to the Prince's will."
Against my will was I exiled
From that bright region, fair and fain,
From that life, glad and undefiled,
And longing dulled my sense again;
I swooned in sorrow for the child,
Needs must my heart cry and complain:
"O Pearl, dear was thy counsel mild,
In this true vision of my brain!
If very truth divide us twain;
If thou goest crowned, secure from ill,
Well for me in my prison-pain
That thou art to the Prince's will."
Against my will, I was exiled
From that bright place, beautiful and free,
From that life, joyful and pure,
And longing dulled my senses again;
I fainted in sorrow for the child,
My heart must cry and complain:
"O Pearl, your gentle advice was precious,
In this true vision of my mind!
If the truth keeps us apart;
If you go on crowned, safe from harm,
It’s hard for me in my prison pain
That you are subject to the Prince's will."
To the Prince's will had my heart bent,
And sought but what to me was given,
Held fast to that, with true intent,
As my Pearl prayed me out of heaven;
Did I to God my thoughts present,
More in His mysteries had I thriven.
But a man will seek more than is sent,
Till from his hand his hope be riven.
Thus from my joy was I forth driven,
From the life upon that holy hill.
Oh, fools, that with the Lord have striven,
Or proffered gifts against his will!
To the Prince's will, my heart was devoted,
And I only wanted what was already given to me,
I held on to that with genuine intention,
As my Pearl prayed me out of heaven;
I presented my thoughts to God,
And I would have thrived more in His mysteries.
But a person will seek more than is meant for them,
Until their hope is torn from their grasp.
Thus, I was driven away from my joy,
From the life on that holy hill.
Oh, fools, who have struggled with the Lord,
Or offered gifts against His will!
The Prince's will to serve aright
The Christian may full well divine;
For I have found Him, day and night,
A God, a Lord, a Friend in fine.
Upon this mound my soul hath sight,
Where I for piteous sorrow pine;
My Pearl to God I pledge and plight,
With Christ's dear blessing and with mine,—
His, who, in form of bread and wine,
The priest doth daily show us still.
His servants may we be, or shine,
Pure pearls, according to his will.
The Prince's desire to serve well
The Christian can surely understand;
For I have found Him, day and night,
A God, a Lord, a true Friend.
On this mound, my soul can see,
Where I mourn in deep sorrow;
My Pearl, to God I commit,
With Christ's precious blessing and mine,—
His, who, in the form of bread and wine,
The priest shows us every day.
May we be His servants and shine,
Pure pearls, in accordance with His will.
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