Thursday, April 23, 2009

Thou Didst It Unto Me

THE KING IN DISGUISE

Leo, an ancient monk, was passing near

A forest path, a volume in his hand;
The hallowed page he scanned with reverent eye,

A brother he, of neighbouring hermit band.

" O! Father, hither turn and list my tale."
So spake a dame who saw him pass the way.

" Alfred our King was here within my cot."

" The King ? " quoth he. " Alack ! and well-a-day."

" Why weep ?" " Because I smote him on the cheek."

" The King ? " " 'Tis true, this very hand of mine

I raised in ire, and struck him, is it not
As if I smote the majesty divine ? " !

" A marvel, dame, thou tellest. Wherefore smite ? "
" I took him for an idly wandering hind,

And bade him tend these ruined ember-cakes,

Whilst I passed thence some straggling sheaves to bind.

" I chid his lack of heed, and smote his face;

For lo! the cakes were spoiled when I returned;

But soon his courtiers came, and, woe is me!

Oh ! that my cot and all therein were burned ! "

The hermit paused a while ; then sudden tears

Gushed from his eyes. The dame was sore amazed.

The stream became a torrent, forth it flowed,
While she upon the novel portent gazed.

" Why weepest thou ? Thou didst not strike a King."
" Yea, but I did, and many a time," quoth he.

" The King ?" " The King, the very King indeed ;

The only King, and that right knowingly."

" How didst thou know ? " " For God doth walk with us.

He wears a mask, in sooth, a thin disguise:

The raiment of the outcast, and the waif—
Disguise soon pierced through by believing eyes.

" Unto the right and left, upon that day,
The King shall speak, 'mid clouds and majesty :

Whate'er thou didst to e'en the least of these,
That very same thou didst it unto Me."

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