Saint
Brandan
sails
the
northern
main;
The
brotherhood
of
saints
are
glad.
He
greets
them
once,
he
sails
again;
So
late!—such
storms!—The
Saint
is
mad!
He
heard,
across
the
howling
seas,
Chime
convent-bells
on
wintry
nights;
He
saw,
on
spray-swept
Hebrides,
Twinkle
the
monastery-lights;
But
north,
still
north,
Saint
Brandan
steer'd—
And
now
no
bells,
no
convents
more!
The
hurtling
Polar
lights
are
near'd,
The
sea
without
a
human
shore.
At
last—(it
was
the
Christmas
night;
Stars
shone
after
a
day
of
storm)—
He
sees
float
past
an
iceberg
white,
And
on
it—Christ!—a
living
form.
That
furtive
mien,
that
scowling
eye,
Of
hair
that
red
and
tufted
fell—
It
is—Oh,
where
shall
Brandan
fly?—
The
traitor
Judas,
out
of
hell!
Palsied
with
terror,
Brandan
sate;
The
moon
was
bright,
the
iceberg
near.
He
hears
a
voice
sigh
humbly:
"Wait!
By
high
permission
I
am
here.
"One
moment
wait,
thou
holy
man
On
earth
my
crime,
my
death,
they
knew;
My
name
is
under
all
men's
ban—
Ah,
tell
them
of
my
respite
too!
"Tell
them,
one
blessed
Christmas-night—
(It
was
the
first
after
I
came,
Breathing
self-murder,
frenzy,
spite,
To
rue
my
guilt
in
endless
flame)—
"I
felt,
as
I
in
torment
lay
'Mid
the
souls
plagued
by
heavenly
power,
An
angel
touch
my
arm,
and
say:
Go
hence,
and
cool
thyself
an
hour!
"'Ah,
whence
this
mercy,
Lord?'
I
said.
The
Leper
recollect,
said
he,
Who
ask'd
the
passers-by
for
aid,
In
Joppa,
and
thy
charity.
"Then
I
remember'd
how
I
went,
In
Joppa,
through
the
public
street,
One
morn
when
the
sirocco
spent
Its
storms
of
dust
with
burning
heat;
"And
in
the
street
a
leper
sate,
Shivering
with
fever,
naked,
old;
Sand
raked
his
sores
from
heel
to
pate,
The
hot
wind
fever'd
him
five-fold.
"He
gazed
upon
me
as
I
pass'd
And
murmur'd:
Help
me,
or
I
die!—
To
the
poor
wretch
my
cloak
I
cast,
Saw
him
look
eased,
and
hurried
by.
"Oh,
Brandan,
think
what
grace
divine,
What
blessing
must
full
goodness
shower,
When
fragment
of
it
small,
like
mine,
Hath
such
inestimable
power!
"Well-fed,
well-clothed,
well-friended,
I
Did
that
chance
act
of
good,
that
one!
Then
went
my
way
to
kill
and
lie—
Forgot
my
good
as
soon
as
done.
"That
germ
of
kindness,
in
the
womb
Of
mercy
caught,
did
not
expire;
Outlives
my
guilt,
outlives
my
doom,
And
friends
me
in
the
pit
of
fire.
"Once
every
year,
when
carols
wake,
On
earth,
the
Christmas-night's
repose,
Arising
from
the
sinner's
lake,
I
journey
to
these
healing
snows.
"I
stanch
with
ice
my
burning
breast,
With
silence
balm
my
whirling
brain.
Oh,
Brandan!
to
this
hour
of
rest
That
Joppan
leper's
ease
was
pain."—
Tears
started
to
Saint
Brandan's
eyes;
He
bow'd
his
head,
he
breathed
a
prayer—
Then
look'd,
and
lo,
the
frosty
skies!
The
iceberg,
and
no
Judas
there!