The Legends of Saint Patrick | Page 8

face?Forbidding not, they sprang; but Patrick raised?His hand, and stone-like crouched they chained and still:?Then, Dichu onward striding fierce, the Saint?Between them signed the Cross; and lo, the sword?Froze in his hand, and Dichu stood like stone.?The amazement past, he prayed the man of God?To grace his house; and, side by side, a mile?They clomb the hills. Ascending, Patrick turned,?His heart with prescience filled. Beneath, there lay?A gleaming strait; beyond, a dim vast plain?With many an inlet pierced: a golden marge?Girdled the water-tongues with flag and reed;?But, farther off, a gentle sea-mist changed?The fair green flats to purple. "Night comes on;"?Thus Dichu spake, and waited. Patrick then?Advanced once more, and Sabhall soon was reached,?A castle half, half barn. There garnered lay?Much grain, and sun-imbrowned: and Patrick said,?"Here where the earthly grain was stored for man?The bread of angels man shall eat one day."?And Patrick loved that place, and Patrick said,?"King Dichu, give thou to the poor that grain,?To Christ, our Lord, thy barn." The strong man stood?In doubt; but prayers of little orphaned babes?Reared by his hand, went up for him that hour:?Therefore that barn he ceded, and to Christ?By Patrick was baptised. Where lay the corn?A convent later rose. There dwelt he oft;?And 'neath its roof more late the stranger sat,?Exile, or kingdom-wearied king, or bard,?That haply blind in age, yet tempest-rocked?By memories of departed glories, drew?With gradual influx into his old heart?Solace of Christian hope.
With Dichu bode?Patrick somewhile, intent from him to learn?The inmost of that people. Oft they spake?Of Milcho. "Once his thrall, against my will?In earthly things I served him: for his soul?Needs therefore must I labour. Hard was he;?Unlike those hearts to which God's Truth makes way?Like message from a mother in her grave:?Yet what I can I must. Not heaven itself?Can force belief; for Faith is still good will."?Dichu laughed aloud: "Good will! Milcho's good will?Neither to others, nor himself, good will?Hath Milcho! Fireless sits he, winter through,?The logs beside his hearth: and as on them?Glimmers the rime, so glimmers on his face?The smile. Convert him! Better thrice to hang him!?Baptise him! He will film your font with ice!?The cold of Milcho's heart has winter-nipt?That glen he dwells in! From the sea it slopes?Unfinished, savage, like some nightmare dream,?Raked by an endless east wind of its own.?On wolf's milk was he suckled not on woman's!?To Milcho speed! Of Milcho claim belief!?Milcho will shrivel his small eye and say?He scorns to trust himself his father's son,?Nor deems his lands his own by right of race?But clutched by stress of brain! Old Milcho's God?Is gold. Forbear him, sir, or ere you seek him?Make smooth your way with gold."
Thus Dichu spake;?And Patrick, after musings long, replied:?"Faith is no gift that gold begets or feeds,?Oftener by gold extinguished. Unto God,?Unbribed, unpurchased, yearns the soul of man;?Yet finds perforce in God its great reward.?Not less this Milcho deems I did him wrong,?His slave, yet fleeing. To requite that loss?Gifts will I send him first by messengers?Ere yet I see his face."
Then Patrick sent?His messengers to Milcho, speaking thus:?"If ill befell thy herds through flight of mine?Fourfold that loss requite I, lest, for hate?Of me, thou disesteem my Master's Word.?Likewise I sue thy friendship; and I come?In few days' space, with gift of other gold?Than earth concedes, the Tidings of that God?Who made all worlds, and late His Face hath shown,?Sun-like to man. But thou, rejoice in hope!"
Thus Patrick, once by man advised in part,?Though wont to counsel with his God alone.
Meantime full many a rumour vague had vexed?Milcho much musing. He had dealings large?And distant. Died a chief? He sent and bought?The widow's all; or sold on foodless shores?For usury the leanest of his kine.?Meantime, his dark ships and the populous quays?With news still murmured. First from Imber Dea?Came whispers how a sage had landed late,?And how when Nathi fain had barred his way,?Nathi that spurned Palladius from the land,?That sage with levelled eyes, and kingly front?Had from his presence driven him with a ban?Cur-like and craven; how on bended knee?Sinell believed, the royal man well-loved?Descending from the judgment-seat with joy:?And how when fishers spurned his brethren's quest?For needful food, that sage had raised his rod,?And all the silver harvest of blue streams?Lay black in nets and sand. His wrinkled brow?Wrinkling yet more, thus Milcho answer made:?"Deceived are those that will to be deceived:?This knave has heard of gold in river-beds,?And comes a deft sand-groper; let him come!?He'll toil ten years ere gold enough he finds?To make a crooked torque."
From Tara next?The news: "Laeghaire, the King, sits close in cloud?Of sullen thought, or storms from court to court,?Because the chiefest of the Druid race?Locru, and Luchat prophesied long since?That one day from the sea a Priest would come?With Doctrine and a Rite, and dash to earth?Idols, and hurl great