A sign betwixt the meadow and the cloud, Patient on this tall pillar I have borne Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet, and snow; And I had hoped that ere this period closed Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest, The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm. Not whisper, any murmur of complaint. Than were those lead-like tons of sin, that crush'd O Lord, Lord, Thou knowest I bore this better at the first, For I was strong and hale of body then; And though my teeth, which now are dropt away, I drown'd the whoopings of the owl with sound Now am I feeble grown: my end draws nighI hope my end draws nigh: half deaf I am, So that I scarce can hear the people hum About the column's base, and almost blind, And scarce can recognise the fields I know. And both my thighs are rotted with the dew, Yet cease I not to clamour and to cry, While my stiff spine can hold my weary head, Till all my limbs drop piecemeal from the stone, Have mercy, , mercy: take away my sin. O Jesus, if thou wilt not save my soul, Who may be saved? who is it may be saved? For did not all thy martyrs die one death? More slowly-painful to subdue this home Of sin, my flesh, which I despise and hate, I had not stinted practice, O my God. For not alone this pillar-punishment, Not this alone I bore: but while I lived In the white convent down the valley there, For many weeks about my loins I wore The rope that haled the buckets from the well, Betray'd my secret penance, so that all My brethren marvell'd greatly. More than this I bore, whereof, O God, thou knowest all. Three winters, that my soul might grow to thee I lived up there on yonder mountain side. To touch my body and be heal'd, and live. And they say then that I work'd miracles, Whereof my fame is loud amongst mankind, Cured lameness, palsies, cancers. Thou, O God, Knowest alone whether this was or no. Have mercy, mercy; cover all my sin. Then, that I might be more alone with thee, Six cubits, and three years upon one of twelve; I think that I have borne as much as this Or else I dream and for so long a time, If I may measure time by yon slow light, And this high dial, which my sorrow crowns So much even so. And yet I know not well, For that the evil ones come here, and say, “Fall down, O Simeon: thou hast suffer'd long For ages and for ages !" then they prate Of penance I cannot have gone thro', Perplexing me with lies; and oft I fall, Bethink thee, Lord, while thou and all the saints But yet Sit with their wives by fires, eat wholesome food, And wear warm clothes, and even beasts have stalls, I, 'tween the spring and downfall of the light, Bow down one thousand and two hundred times To Christ, the Virgin Mother, and the Saints; I wake the chill stars sparkle; I am wet With drenching dews, or stiff with crackling frost. O Lord, thou knowest what a man I am; |