Page:Poet Lore, volume 34, 1923.djvu/316

Are shaken from their high desire.
Novitsa, burning with revenge,
Novitsa comes, the dauntless one.
He nears the pious worshippers,
And to the troop these brave words speaks:
"Ye men of Tzernagora, ye,
Brethren of God, grasp not your swords!
Novitsa is not as before
Against you; he goes with you now,
In Turkish blood to stain his hands.
The Turks have taken all my goods;
Whate’er I had is now with them;
They left me naught but this right hand
I now to Tzernagora give.
Your cross not only bids 'Be brave,'
But bids 'Be brave in Christ,' and this
Is my desire. Sign me the cross!
My fate has driven me to it."

And as they heard the stranger's words,
A hundred hands released their swords;
A hundred eyes, as through a mist
Beheld the spectrum of the sun.
Moratcha's water then they brought,
The pastor made the cross, and said:
"My son, have faith in the great God;
Have faith in his Eternal Son;
Have faith too in the Holy Ghost;
Hold fast the faith, for it will save."
He spoke, and on Novitsa's brow
Moratcha's water poured. The troop
And mountains stood as witnesses.

And then the shepherd raised his eyes,
His innocent eyes, and his white hands,
Besought God's blessing on the troop,
And gave to all the sacred rites,
The broken bread, the wine from heaven.
The burning sun looked down and saw
The wondrous transformation, how
To feeble men a feeble priest
Gave power, and they became as gods.