Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/16

16 Rever'd the wisdom that doth wait on time. —But still the cloud of paganism did blight The blossom of their virtues, brooding dark With raven pinion o'er the gloomy soul. I said that Summer glow'd.— And with her came A white-brow'd 5 stranger. Open as the day Was his fair, noble forehead, and his voice In its sweet intonations, threw a charm O'er rudest spirits. Not with more surprise Gaz'd the stern Druid, 'mid his mystic rites, On good Augustine, preaching words of peace, What time with hatred fierce and unsubdued, The woad-stain'd Briton in his wattled 6 boat Quail'd neath the glance of Rome. Thus fix'd the eye Of jealous chieftains and their wandering clans On Zinzendorff.—Sought he to grasp their lands? To search for gold? to found a mystic throne Of dangerous power? Where the red council-fire Disturb'd the trance of midnight, long they sate Weighing his purpose with a cautious tone In grave debate. For scarce they deem'd it truth That from a happy home, o'er Ocean's wave, He thus should come, to teach a race unknown Of joys beyond the tomb. Their fetter'd minds Still blindly rul'd by groping ignorance, Sank at the threshhold of such bold belief, And with the skeptic doubt of modern times, The Missionary scann'd. Yet some there were Who listen'd spell-bound to his charmed words;