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3 " Bring me flesh, and bring me wine. Bring me pine-logs hither ; Thou and I shall see him dine, When we bear them thither." Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together, Through the rude wind's wild lament. And the bitter weather.
4
" Sire, the night is darker now, And the wind blows stronger ; Fails my heart, 1 know not how : I can go no longer.' " Mark my footsteps, good my page. Tread thou in them boldly ; Thou shalt find the winter's rage Freeze thy blood less coldly."
5 In his masters steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted ; Heat was in the very sod
Which the saint had printed. Therefore, Christian men, be sure.
Wealth or rank possessing, Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing |
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