n. Some resting place is there
Worn,--as amid the rushy marsh by stag that made his lair,--
Worn just beneath yon carven form, that bends in pain and love,
As if to bless, from its high place, and almost seems to move,
While round it in the wind of night the arras swells and swings,--
The viceroy's of the universe, son of the King of kings.
For Louis loves to leave his court, and lay aside his crown,
And to a mightier Prince than he to bow in homage down.
In this great presence learns the king peace, truth, and lowlihead;
Here learns the saint the majesty no earthly power to dread.
But now the king's mute voice it rings, and through the shades doth call:
'Ho, Sire de Jonville, come to me, my doughty seneschal!'
The rafters feel the tramp of steel; and by the monarch stand
Again the feet that by him stood far in the Holy Land.
'O Sire de Jonville,' to his friend and servant Louis saith,
'Hold fast and firmly to the end the jewel of thy faith.
Strong faith's the key of heaven; and once an abbot taught to me,
If will is good, though faith is weak, shall faith accepted be.
This tale he told[11]:

A Master old,--Master of Sacred Lore,--
Of life unsmirched, once came to him in straits and travail sore,
'What wouldst thou, Master?--What the grief that makes thee peak
and pine?
And comest thou to me?--My soul hath often leaned on thine!'
'Let each co-pilgrim lean in turn on each,' in anguish meek,
With tongue that clave unto his mouth, the Master then did speak;
But when the abbot led him in and lent his pitying ears,
Then tears came fast instead of words; words could not come for tears.
'O brother, weep no more; but speak, and banish thy dismay.
Of man is guilt; but grace is God's, that purgeth guilt away.
If all our little being's bound were filled and stuffed with sin,
'Twere nothing to the holiness His mighty heart within;
And in this wilderness of life there's no such crooked road,
But from it may a path be found straight to the throne of God.
The penitent that mourns like thee, that path will surely take.
What needeth but to own thy sin and straight thy sin forsake?'
'Yet must I weep. Mine inward plight is one that stands alone.
The outward ill the tempted wight may do or leave undone;
But when I to the altar go, to eat the sacred bread
And gaze upon the blood divine, that for us all was shed,
Still Satan stirreth up in me