There sat he, a strong man of blood, Steel-mailed and scarfed with blue, Poring o’er charts of distant lands, For new lands to subdue. Beside him stood the gentle child; And now he traced with care, Measuring from river unto sea, A fertile region fair. “’Tis a good land,” said Marien, “From river unto sea; And there a quiet people dwell, Who never heard of thee. “They feed their flocks and herds in peace; The fruitful vine they till; The quiet homes their fathers built They and their children fill. “Even now their happy children’s joy Thee and thy will condemn; Wherefore should’st thou possess that land? God gave it unto them!” Into her face the proud man looked, Amazed at what he heard; Then turned unto his charts again, And answered never a word. Another land among the hills He measured with his eye; “’Tis a stern land,” said Marien, “A land of liberty! “There fled the Christians in old time, And built their churches there; The bells upon the sabbath morn Call all that land to prayer. “Would’st thou God’s people tribulate? A cursed thing it were To make that Christian land of love A bloody sepulchre!” The proud man turned him round about And fiercely gazed at her. “Rivers of blood have flowed for thee!” Unblenching Marien said, “And many a Christian land hast thou With Christian blood made red. “Up, sin no more! ’Tis coming now, The day thou canst not flee, When all the thousands thou hast slain God will require of thee! “Thou man of blood, repent, repent, Repent whilst yet thou may, And store up deeds of love and peace Against that awful day!” Up from his seat the conquerer rose, And paced the uneasy tent, And ground his teeth and groaned aloud, As one that doth repent. Forth from the tent sped Marien; And many a summer’s day Throughout a blessed land of peace She journeyed on her way. PART V. At length, after long travel past, She came as it grew late, Along a beaten road, that led To a vast city gate. A vast and populous city, where Rose dome, and tower, and spire, And many a gilded pinnacle, Far-seen, as the bright sunset fell, Like glittering points of fire. A city vast and populous, Whose thronging multitude Sent forth a sound afar-off heard, Strong as the ocean-flood. A strong, deep sound of many sounds, Toil, pleasure, pain, delight, And traffic, myriad-wheeled, whose din Ceased not by day or night. And through the city gate a throng Passed ever, never spent; A busy mingling human tide Of those who came and went.