The Bard And His Pupil. Poem by Samuel Bamford

PUPIL.
Bard, I pray, come show to me
Secret I would fain be knowing;
What are the two things that be
Greatest blessings unto man?
Son of light I wait your showing,
And declare it if you can.

BARD.
Wisdom is a precious thing
Unto peasant or to king;
She hath far-pervading eye,
Human knowledge to apply,
So that good may be obtained,
And that evil be refrained;
In her clear discerning mind
Best of counsel thou wilt find;
She will teach thee how to choose,
What retain, and what to lose—
What thou sternly should'st suppress,
What permit, and what caress.
If a sudden storm assail,
Wisdom hath foreseen the gale;
And, whilst she is at the helm,
Fear not thou an overwhelm.
Or, if wake the clan- of war,
She hath seen the dancer far;
And can either meet the fight,
Or in peace maintain her right—
Ever seeing, every ready,
Ever calm, and ever steady.
High ones of the world she tendeth,
With the lowliest she wendeth;
And if fortune do despite thee,
She will never turn and slight thee,—
So, if friend thou doth require,
Could'st thou better one desire?

She is highly, too, descended,
Heaven's court she erst attended;
When, as saith the sacred story,
Once came down the King of Glory,
And this lower world descried—
Ocean-weltered, dark, and void.
With His hand He did but motion,
And rolled back that fearful ocean.
Sun He robed in living light,
And the moon hung meekly bright;
And the stars in heaven He strewed—
Glory-streaming multitude!
Herb, and tree, and beast were rife,
Crowding on the morn of life;
And a pair went hand in hand,
Through that green and sunny land;
Happy, till they, tempted, fell,
When, as ancient poets tell—
Sign that heaven did not discard them—
Wisdom was vouchsafed to guard them
Through all time, and every stage
Of their world-wide pilgrimage.

Child of man, what'er thou gain,
Strive thou wisdom to obtain;
She will be a friend indeed,
Ever present in thy need.
If bright wealth thy heart rejoice,
Add this pearl of matchless price;
And if Fortune still denies thee,
Gain this friend, who will advise thee.

PUPIL.
Son of light, my thanks are thine,
Would I had that friend, divine.

BARD.
In a meek and constant spirit,
Seek her, and thou shalt inherit.
Take thou also to thy aid
Valour, which is true and staid;
He will best support thy heart,
Whilst thou acts a noble part.
If thou needest strife's award,
Valour smiteth quick and hard;
And will neither flinch nor fail
Till his cause or death prevail.
Lo! a stalwart warrior stands,
Battle hewing with both hands;
Not a thought of peace comes o'er him
Whilst a foe-man stands before him.
Though with dead his knees are cumbered,
Though my enemies outnumbered,
Rest!—he never can enjoy it
Whilst his sword hath work to try it.

But true valour may be found
On far other battle ground;
Oft he worketh humble good,
Not by means of force and blood.
Wrong he baffles, though of might,
And protects the feeble right;
Nothing caring who stands by,
Who applaud, or who decry.
What, save valour, stout and true,
Doth enable to subdue
All the groans that else were sounded,
When men's very souls are wounded,
All the yearnings of their ire,
When their hearts are trod like mire?
What hath helped man to bear,
Through his years of loaded care,
Ills that on each day beset him,
Wantonly that chafe and fret him?
Envy, with her viper brood,
Wounding in his solitude;
Whilst, to contumely of pride,
Throb of pain alone replied,
Open hate and covert scorn,
Lowly hero oft hath borne,
And the arrows, poison-stewed,
By abhorred ingratitude;
And the shafts that deepest stung,
By the hand of friendship flung;
Till his constancy was tried,
And he turned his tears to hide.
O, but valour, stout and true,
Still upbore him through and through,
And enabled him to say,
As the Holy One did pray—
'God, forgiveness to them show,
For they know not what they do.'
Wouldst thou act a steadfast part,
Take thou valour to thy heart.

PUPIL.
Son of light, I have that boon;
I besought, and found it soon,
And I hold it, heart-within.

BARD.
Keep it pure from taint of sin.
So, if wisdom thou obtain,
Thou hast won a noble twain;
But if perfect thou wouldst be,
Thy two blessings should be three.
Great by wisdom is the gaining;
Great by valour, right maintaining,
Noble is the strife of duty,
Next is love that leads to beauty.
Love to God, the blessing giver,
Love to man, thy fellow-liver,
Love to all benign creation,
And to woman, adoration.
But the day hath set in gloaming,
And the starry van are coming,
Haste thee on thy homeward way,
Love's a theme for other day.