Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/267

Rh  To you in our distress. Fain would we hear Your wondrous message fully, that our hearts May hail its certainty before we go, Ourselves to those dark caverns of the dead, Where everlasting silence seems to reign.

 

Scythia's wilds, the Sage to Athens came, In search of wisdom, not allur'd by fame, But there, his uncouth mien provok'd the proud, And mov'd the laughter of a thoughtless crowd, Who saw not through a veil so coarsely wove, An upright soul, that heaven itself might love. —"Think ye I draw no glory from my birth, My simple manners, and my native earth? Yet say what honor can your country claim, From sons unworthy of her ancient name? Say, which is best, to shine with borrow'd rays, Or rear that column which the world shall praise." —A scroll from Lydia's king,—"Come, nobly wise! Thou whom the triflers of the age despise, Come! view my riches and my royal train, Nor count the labor of thy journey vain; Not now I boast my gifts, but thou shalt find The monarch Crœsus of no niggard mind; Come, Scythian sage! and be content to bring Unportion'd wisdom, to a judging king." —Then spake the man, who scorn'd the charms of gold, With soul indignant and in language bold, 