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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.

Tales of a Wayside Inn

Part Second. The Theologian’s Tale: The Legend Beautiful

“HADST thou stayed, I must have fled!”

That is what the Vision said.

In his chamber all alone,

Kneeling on the floor of stone,

Prayed the Monk in deep contrition

For his sins of indecision,

Prayed for greater self-denial

In temptation and in trial;

It was noonday by the dial,

And the Monk was all alone.

Suddenly, as if it lightened,

An unwonted splendor brightened

All within him and without him

In that narrow cell of stone;

And he saw the Blessed Vision

Of our Lord, with light Elysian

Like a vesture wrapped about Him,

Like a garment round Him thrown.

Not as crucified and slain,

Not in agonies of pain,

Not with bleeding hands and feet,

Did the Monk his Master see;

But as in the village street,

In the house or harvest-field,

Halt and lame and blind He healed,

When He walked in Galilee.

In an attitude imploring,

Hands upon his bosom crossed,

Wondering, worshipping, adoring,

Knelt the Monk in rapture lost.

Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest,

Who am I, that thus thou deignest

To reveal thyself to me?

Who am I, that from the centre

Of thy glory thou shouldst enter

This poor cell, my guest to be?

Then amid his exaltation,

Loud the convent bell appalling,

From its belfry calling, calling,

Rang through court and corridor

With persistent iteration

He had never heard before.

It was now the appointed hour

When alike in shine or shower,

Winter’s cold or summer’s heat,

To the convent portals came

All the blind and halt and lame,

All the beggars of the street,

For their daily dole of food

Delat them by the brotherhood;

And their almoner was he

Who upon his bended knee,

Rapt in silent ecstasy

Of divinest self-surrender,

Saw the Vision and the Splendor.

Deep distress and hesitation

Mingled with his adoration;

Should he go or should he stay?

Should he leave the poor to wait

Hungry at the convent gate,

Till the Vision passed away?

Should he slight his radiant guest,

Slight this visitant celestial,

For a crowd of ragged, bestial

Beggars at the convent gate?

Would the Vision there remain?

Would the Vision come again?

Then a voice within his breast

Whispered, audible and clear

As if to the outward ear:

“Do thy duty; that is best;

Leave unto thy Lord the rest!”

Straightway to his feet he started,

And with longing look intent

On the Blessed Vision bent,

Slowly from his cell departed,

Slowly on his errand went.

At the gate the poor were waiting,

Looking through the iron grating,

With that terror in the eye

That is only seen in those

Who amid their wants and woes

Hear the sound of doors that close,

And of feet that pass them by;

Grown familiar with disfavor,

Grown familiar with the savor

Of the bread by which men die!

But to-day, they know not why,

Like the gate of Paradise

Seemed the convent gate to rise,

Like a sacrament divine

Seemed to them the bread and wine.

In his heart the Monk was praying,

Thinking of the homeless poor,

What they suffer and endure;

What we see not, what we see;

And the inward voice was saying:

“Whatsoever thing thou doest

To the least of mine and lowest,

That thou doest unto me!”

Unto me! but had the Vision

Come to him in beggar’s clothing,

Come a mendicant imploring,

Would he then have knelt adoring,

Or have listened with derision,

And have turned away with loathing?

Thus his conscience put the question,

Full of troublesome suggestion,

As at length, with hurried pace,

Towards his cell he turned his face,

And beheld the convent bright

With a supernatural light,

Like a luminous cloud expanding

Over floor and wall and ceiling.

But he paused with awe-struck feeling

At the threshold of his door,

For the Vision still was standing

As he left it there before,

When the convent bell appalling,

From its belfry calling, calling,

Summoned him to feed the poor.

Through the long hour intervening

It had waited his return,

And he felt his bosom burn,

Comprehending all the meaning,

When the Blessed Vision said,

“Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!”