Though scared by all beside.' Smiling once more The Saint made answer, 'True, and yet not true! Sea-birds elsewhere beheld not throng that isle; A breed so loving and so firm in trust That, yet unharmed by man, they flee not man; Wondering they gaze; who wills may close upon them! I signed a league betwixt that race and man, Pledging the mariners who sought my cell To reverence still that trust.' He ended thus: 'My friends, ye seek me still for parables; Seek them from Nature rather:--here are two! Those pebble-beads are words from Nature's lips Exhorting man to pray; those fearless birds Teach him that trust to innocence belongs By right divine, and more avails than craft To shield us from the aggressor.' Some were glad Hearing that doctrine; others cried, 'Not so! Our Saint--all know it--makes miraculous beads; But, being humble, he conceals his might:' And many an age, when slept that Saint in death, Passing his isle by night the sailor heard Saint Cuthbert's hammer clinking on the rock; And age by age men cried, 'Our Cuthbert's birds Revere the Saint's command.' While thus they spake A horseman over moorlands near the Tweed Made hasty way, and thus addressed the Saint: 'Father, Queen Ermenburga greets thee well, And this her message:--"Queen am I forlorn, Long buffeted by many a storm of state, And worn at heart besides; for in our house Peace lived not inmate, but a summer guest; And now, my lord, the King is slain in fight; And changed the aspect now things wore of old: Thou therefore, man of God, approach my gates With counsel sage. This further I require; Thy counsel must be worthy of a Queen, Nor aught contain displeasing."' Cuthbert spake: 'My charge requires my presence at Carlisle; Beseech the Queen to meet me near its wall On this day fortnight.' Thitherwards thenceforth Swiftlier he passed, while daily from the woods The woodmen flocked, and shepherds from the hills, Concourse still widening. These among there moved A hermit meek as childhood, calm as eld, Long years Saint Cuthbert's friend. Recluse he lived Within a woody isle of that fair lake By Derwent lulled and Greta. Others thronged Round Cuthbert's steps; that hermit stood apart With large dark eyes upon his countenance fixed, And pale cheek dewed with tears. The name he bore Was 'Herbert of the Lake.' Two weeks went by, And Cuthbert reached his journey's end. Next day God sent once more His Feast of Pentecost To gladden men; and all His Church on earth Shone out, irradiate as by silver gleams Flashed from her whiter Sister in the skies; And every altar laughed, and every hearth; And many a simple hind in spirit heard