"With me God feasted in my day of youth: So feast He now with others!"' Years went by, And Cedd in work and word was mighty still, And throve with God. The strong East Saxon race Grew gentle in his presence: they were brave, And faith is courage in the things divine, Courage with meekness blent. The heroic heart Beats to the spiritual cognate, paltering not Fraudulent with truth once known. Like winds from God God's message on them fell. Old bonds of sin, Snapt by the vastness of the growing soul, Burst of themselves; and in the heart late bound Virtue had room to breathe. As when that Voice Primeval o'er the formless chaos rolled, And, straight, confusions ceased, the greater orb Ruling the day, the lesser, night; even so, Born of that Bethlehem Mystery, order lived: Divine commandments fixed a firmament Betwixt man's lower instincts and his mind: From unsuspected summits of his spirit The morning shone. The nation with the man Partook the joy: from duty freedom flowed; And there where tribes had roved a people lived. A pathos of strange beauty hung thenceforth O'er humblest hamlet: he who passed it prayed 'May never sword come here!' Bishop and King Together laboured: well that Bishop's love Repaid that royal zeal. If random speech Censured the King, though justly, sudden red Circling the old man's silver-tressed brow Showed, though he spake not, that in saintly breast The human heart lived on. In Ithancester He dwelt, and toiled: not less to Lindisfarne, His ancient home, in spirit oft he yearned, Longing for converse with his God alone; And made retreat there often, not to shun Labour allotted, but to draw from heaven Strength for his task. One year, returning thence, Deira's King addressed him as they rode: 'My father, choose the richest of my lands And build thereon a holy monastery; So shall my realm be blessed, and I, and mine.' He answered: 'Son, no wealthy lands for us! Spake not the prophet: "There where dragons roamed, In later days the grass shall grow--the reed"? I choose those rocky hills that, on our left, Drag down the skiey waters to the woods: Such loved I from my youth: to me they said, "Bandits this hour usurp our heights, and beasts Cumber our caves: expel the seed accurst, And yield us back to God!"' The King gave ear; And Cedd within those mountains passed his Lent, Driving with prayer and fast the spirits accurst With ignominy forth. Foundations next He laid with sacred pomp. Fair rose the walls: All day the March sea blew its thunder blasts Through wide-mouthed trumpets of ravine or rift On winding far to where in wooden cell The old man prayed, while o'er him rushed the cloud