"Thus shall he show, great king and all, He fears the glorious Cross of Christ, And dreads to hear slain voices call For vengeance on the sacrificed.

"But, Nial, come not here again: Long before dawn my soul shall be Beyond the reach of any pain That Modred dreams to prove on me.

"Go forth thyself at dawn, and say 'This is Christ's holy natal morn, My king is He from forth this day When He to save mankind was born':

"Go forth and seek a lonely place Where a great river fills the wild; There bide, and let thy strength be grace, And wait the Coming of a Child.

"A wondrous thing shall then befall: And when thou seek'st if it be true, Green leaves along thy staff shall crawl, With, flowers of every lovely hue."

The monk's face whitened, like sea-foam: Seaward he stared, and sighed "I go-- Farewell--my Lord Christ calls me home!"

Nial stooped and saw death's final throe.

An hour before the dawn he rose And sought out Modred, brooding, dumb; "O King," he said, "my bond I close, King Christ I seek: the Cross is come!"

Swift as a stag's leap from a height King Modred drew his dreadful sword: Then as a snow-wraith, silent, white, He stared and pa.s.sed without a word.

Before the flush of dawn was red A druid came to Nial the Great: "The doom of death hath Modred said, Yet fears this Christ's mysterious hate:

"So get you hence, you giant-thewed man: Go your own way: come not again: No more are you of Modred's clan: Go now, forthwith, lest you be slain."

Nial went forth with gladsome face; No more of Modred's clan he was: "Now, now," he cried, "Christ's trail I'll trace, And nowhere turn, and nowhere pause."

He laughed to think how Modred feared The wrath of Christ, the monk's white king: "A greater than Modred hath appeared, To Him my sword and strength I bring."

All day, all night, he walked afar: He saw the moon rise white and still: The evening and the morning star: The sunrise burn upon the hill.

He heard the moaning of the seas, The vast sigh of the sunswept plain, The myriad surge of forest-trees; Saw dusk and night return again.

At falling of the dusk he stood Upon a wild and desert land: Dark fruit he gathered for his food, Drank water from his hollowed hand,

Cut from an ash a mighty bough And trimmed and shaped it to the half: "Safe in the desert am I now, With sword," he said, "and with this staff."

The stars came out: Arcturus hung His ice-blue fire far down the sky: The Great Bear through the darkness swung: The Seven Watchers rose on high.

A great moon flooded all the west.

Silence came out of earth and sea And lay upon the husht world's breast, And breathed mysteriously.

Three hours Nial walked, three hours and more: Then halted when beyond the plain He stood upon that river's sh.o.r.e The dying monk had bid him gain.

A little house he saw: clay-wrought, Of wattle woven through and through: Then, all his weariness forgot, The joy of drowning-sleep he knew.

Three hours he slept, and then he heard A voice--and yet a voice so low It might have been a dreaming bird Safe-nested by the rushing flow.

Almost he slept once more: then, _Hush_!

Once more he heard above the noise And tempest of the river's rush The thin faint words of a child's voice.

"Good Sir, awake from sleep and dream, Good Sir, come out and carry me Across this dark and raging stream Till safe on the other side I be."

Great Nial shivered on his bed: "No human creature calls this night, It is a wild fetch of the dead,"

He thought, and shrunk, and shook with fright.

Once more he heard that infant-cry: "Come out, Good Sir, or else I drown-- Come out, Good Sir, or else I die And you, too, lose a golden crown."

"A golden crown"--so Nial thought-- "No--no--not thus shall I be ta'en!

Keep, ghost-of-the-night, your crown gold-wrought-- Of sleep and peace I am full fain!"

Once more the windy dark was filled With lonely cry, with sobbing plaint: Nial's heart grew sore, its fear was stilled, King Christ, he knew, would scorn him faint.

"Up, up thou coward, thou sluggard, thou,"

He cried, and sprang from off his bed-- "No crown thou seekest for thy brow, But help for one in pain and dread!"

Out in the wide and lonely dark No fetch he saw, no shape, no child: Almost he turned again--but _hark_!

A song rose o'er the waters wild:

A king am I Tho' a little Child, Son of G.o.d am I, Meek and mild, Beautiful Because G.o.d hath said Let my cup be full Of wine and bread.

Come to me Shaken heart, Shaken heart!

I will not flee.

My heart Is thy heart O shaken heart!

Stoop to my Cup, Sup, Drink of the wine: The wine and the bread, Saith G.o.d, Are mine-- My Flesh and my Blood!

Throw thy sword in the flood: Come, shaken heart: Fearful thou art!

Have no more fear-- Lo, I am here, The little One, The Son, Thy Lord and thy King.

It is I who sing: Christ, your King....

Be not afraid: Look, I am Light, A great star Seen from afar In the darkness of night: I am Light, Be not afraid ...

Wade, wade Into the deep flood!

Think of the Bread, The Wine and the Bread That are my Flesh and Blood, Cross, cross the Flood, Sure is the goal ...

Be not afraid O Soul, Be not afraid!

Nial's heart was filled with joy and pain: "This is my king, my king indeed: To think that drown'd in sleep I've lain When Christ the Child-G.o.d crieth in need!"

Swift from his wattled hut he strode, Stumbling among the gra.s.s and bent, And, seeking where the river flowed, Far o'er the dark flood peered and leant:

Then suddenly beside him saw A little Child all clad in white: He bowed his head in love and awe, Then lifted high his burthen light.

High on his shoulders sat the Child, While with strong limbs he fared among The rushing waters black and wild And where the fiercest currents swung.

The waters rose more high, more high, Higher and higher every yard ...

Nial stumbled on with sob and sigh, Christ heard him panting sore and hard.

"O Child," Nial cried, "forbear, forbear!

Hark you not how these waters whirled!

The weight of all the earth I bear, The weary weight of all the world!"

"_Christopher_!" ... low above the noise, The rush, the darkness, Nial heard The far-off music of a Voice That said all things in saying one word--

"Christopher ... this thy name shall be!

Christ-bearer is thy name, even so Because of service done to me Heavy with weight of the world's woe."