Now warneth us the Wise Men's fare That hereof we be well aware, How we should to ourselves take heed, And seek our native land with speed. | Ye wot not what I say, I wis; That land is hight the Paradise: I verily could laud it sore, For wordès fail me nevermore. | 18 But if of all my members each Were gifted with the gift of speech, Yet could not any words avail To tell out all its wondrous tale. | Never couldst thou believe it right Save thou shouldst see it with thy sight, Nor couldst thou well, not even then, Tell what thou saw'st to other men. | For there is life withouten doom, And there is light withouten gloom; There wonneth the angelic race, And everlasting blessedness. | We have forsaken it, alas! Well may we rue that came to pass; Well may we never stay to weep After the home we did not keep. | We fared forth hastily from thence Misled by pride and arrogance, Lured in some fond and secret guise, By lusts that tempted us with lies. | Ah! then we list not to obey, And bear the mark thereof alway! Now here as exiles we must stand Sore weeping in an alien land: | Unused, alas! from age to age Lieth our proper heritage, Untasted what it hath of good,-- So wrought for us our haughty mood. | We now must suffer and be sad For lack of joy we might have had; We now must bear, as best we may, Sore want and many a bitter day. | Now full of sorrow we bemoan Our lot in this land not our own, And bear the wounds that sin doth smite, And many griefs of our sad plight. | 19 Here many a trial night and day Lurketh in wait beside our way, And yet we orphans sad and weak Not yet our home are fain to seek. | Ah, well-a-day, thou stranger land! Hard art thou truly to our band, Heavy art thou and hast no ruth, I tell thee this in very truth. | Sore griefs do here the heart beset That for its home is pining yet: Well have I found this true in me, Nought joyous have I met in thee. | The only gifts thou dost bestow Are a heart laden with its woe, A mood that aye is fain to weep, And sorrows manifold and deep. | But if into our mind it come That we once more will seek our home, And if our hearts would swift return, And with a dolorous longing yearn: | Then like the Wise Men shall we fare By a new road to bring us there, Seeking the true way that will lead Back to the home we sorely need. | That path, I wot, is fair and sweet, But must be trod with washen feet: Such is the manner, well I ween, Of men that would thereon be seen. | Kindness must in thy soul be bred, And great and willing lowlihead; And, most of all, within thy heart True love must live in every part. | Learn thou to find thy joy in guise Of fair and ready sacrifice; Yield to the good thy will alway, And never thine own lusts obey. | 20 Within the love-shrine of thy heart, Let love of this world have no part; From things of passing time now flee, Their very loss shall profit thee. | Remember what I erst did say, This is that new and other way; Choose thou to tread it, as I rede, And surely to thy home 'twill lead. | And when thou dost that life possess, And knowest all its blessedness, To God Himself wilt thou be dear, And nevermore know harm or fear. | |