Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/29

Strong in his inmost soul, even while he spake
Salvation's message to the forest-child.
—His work of mercy done, the white sail spreads
From that broad city's queenly breast, which bears
The filial impress of the Man of Peace,
Who on the blended rivers bas'd her throne,
And grav'd upon his signet-ring her name
Of love fraternal.
But behold! a throng
In uncouth garments, and with savage port
Invade the parting scene. With wondering eye,
But lip immoveable, they scan the domes,
And groves, and gardens. Native pride restrain'd
The voice of admiration, but the seal
Of abject wretchedness seem'd deeper stamp'd
Upon their forehead, as they mark'd a pomp
Ill understood, and felt in their own realm
Their sceptre broken. Not more wildly gleam'd
The tangled elf-locks of the astonish'd Gauls,
Who, trampling on the majesty of Rome,
Saw her grave ¹⁰ Senate in their curule chairs,
And deem'd them demi-gods.
The red-brow'd sires,
And the sad mothers with their little ones
Fast by their side, and on their shoulders bound
Their helpless infants, throng'd to deprecate
The Teacher's absence, and with tears implore
A parting blessing. Kneeling on the strand
His tender supplication, by their sobs
Oft interrupted, sought the ear of heaven.
—Long with despairing eye, they watch'd the bark
Cutting its watery path. Methought their brows