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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=456513" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Saint Brandan</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saint Brandan sails the northern main;<br>The brotherhood of saints are glad.<br>He greets them once, he sails again;<br>So late!—such storms!—The Saint is mad!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He heard, across the howling seas,<br>Chime convent-bells on wintry nights;<br>He saw, on spray-swept Hebrides,<br>Twinkle the monastery-lights;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But north, still north, Saint Brandan steer'd—<br>And now no bells, no convents more!<br>The hurtling Polar lights are near'd,<br>The sea without a human shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At last—(it was the Christmas night;<br>Stars shone after a day of storm)—<br>He sees float past an iceberg white,<br>And on it—Christ!—a living form.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That furtive mien, that scowling eye,<br>Of hair that red and tufted fell—<br>It is—Oh, where shall Brandan fly?—<br>The traitor Judas, out of hell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Palsied with terror, Brandan sate;<br>The moon was bright, the iceberg near.<br>He hears a voice sigh humbly: 'Wait!<br>By high permission I am here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'One moment wait, thou holy man<br>On earth my crime, my death, they knew;<br>My name is under all men's ban—<br>Ah, tell them of my respite too!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tell them, one blessed Christmas-night—<br>(It was the first after I came,<br>Breathing self-murder, frenzy, spite,<br>To rue my guilt in endless flame)—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I felt, as I in torment lay<br>'Mid the souls plagued by heavenly power,<br>An angel touch my arm, and say:<br>Go hence, and cool thyself an hour!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''Ah, whence this mercy, Lord?' I said.<br>The Leper recollect, said he,<br>Who ask'd the passers-by for aid,<br>In Joppa, and thy charity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Then I remember'd how I went,<br>In Joppa, through the public street,<br>One morn when the sirocco spent<br>Its storms of dust with burning heat;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And in the street a leper sate,<br>Shivering with fever, naked, old;<br>Sand raked his sores from heel to pate,<br>The hot wind fever'd him five-fold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He gazed upon me as I pass'd<br>And murmur'd: Help me, or I die!—<br>To the poor wretch my cloak I cast,<br>Saw him look eased, and hurried by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh, Brandan, think what grace divine,<br>What blessing must full goodness shower,<br>When fragment of it small, like mine,<br>Hath such inestimable power!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well-fed, well-clothed, well-friended, I<br>Did that chance act of good, that one!<br>Then went my way to kill and lie—<br>Forgot my good as soon as done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'That germ of kindness, in the womb<br>Of mercy caught, did not expire;<br>Outlives my guilt, outlives my doom,<br>And friends me in the pit of fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Once every year, when carols wake,<br>On earth, the Christmas-night's repose,<br>Arising from the sinner's lake,<br>I journey to these healing snows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I stanch with ice my burning breast,<br>With silence balm my whirling brain.<br>Oh, Brandan! to this hour of rest<br>That Joppan leper's ease was pain.'—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tears started to Saint Brandan's eyes;<br>He bow'd his head, he breathed a prayer—<br>Then look'd, and lo, the frosty skies!<br>The iceberg, and no Judas there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Matthew+Arnold">Matthew Arnold</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=456513" data-title="Saint Brandan de Matthew Arnold" data-description="Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
The brotherhood of saints are glad.
He greets them once, he sails again;
So late!—such storms!—The Saint is mad!

He heard, across the howling seas,
Chime convent-bells on wintry nights;
He saw, on spray-..."></div>
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