I


Pearl, pleasant for princes' pay,
And cleanly clasped in gold so clear,
Out of the orient; I say
I never proved her precious peer.
So round, so rich in each array,
So small, so smooth her sides were.
Whenever I judged that gems were gay
I set her single and singular.
Alas - I lost it in an arbour,
Through the grass to ground it got,
And I pine, dying of love-danger
For that precious pearl without a spot.


Since in that spot it from me sprang
I often waited, wishing for Pearl,
That once was what could heal my wrong
And heighten my health and make me whole.
That watch just weights my heart. I wrung
And drenched my breast with dearth and dole.
But I never heard as sweet a song
As, I thought, on that still hour stole.
And others came into that dell
To sing of sweetness clad in clot.
O earth, you mar a merry jewel,
My precious pearl without a spot.


That spot where spices seed and spread,
There such richness to rot is run.
Blooms that are bright, of blue and red,
Shall shine so sheer against the sun.
There the flowers and fruit don't fade
And there it drowned in dust and dung,
For all grass grows from the grains of the dead
Or else no wheat is brought to barn,
And every good from good began -
So seemly a seed can breed no blot.
So springing spices have upwards spun
From my precious pearl without a spot.


At the spot of which I tell
I entered in the garden green
In August, at the festival,
When corn is cut with sickles keen.
On the hill where the pearl fell
Shadows of shimmering flowers that shone:
Gillyflower, ginger and gromwell
And peonies powdered in between,
So seemly to be smelled and seen,
With floating fragrances. I thought
That this is where my dear has gone,
My precious pearl without a spot.


Before that spot I stretched my hand
For a cold care that in me caught:
A deeper dole in my heart dinned,
Though reason reckoned in my thought,
And I complained that Pearl was penned,
With fierce debates in me that fought.
Though I of Christ the comfort kenned
My wretched will in woe was wrought.
I fell onto that flowery ground.
Such odours to my senses shot
That I slipped into sleeping sound
Above my pearl without a spot.




II


From that spot my spirit sprang in space -
My body's bulk abides. In dreams
My ghost has gone, by God's grace,
Adventuring where marvels have been.
I know no part of this new place,
I've come to where cliffs cleave the heaven.
Towards a forest I turned my face
And saw rich, splendid rocks that seem
Brighter than eyes on earth have seen -
The gleaming glory of every glint.
No garment made has ever been
Of half so dear adornment.


The valley's vista was adorned
With crystal cliffs so clear in hue
And bright trees by the hills had grown
With trunks as blue as Indian blue.
And burnished silver leaves all grind
And quiver together on every bough.
When gleams through glades upon them shine
Such shimmering shafts of sheer light show.
The gravel that grated on the ground
Was precious pearls of orient.
The sun itself is dark and blind
In respect of that adornment.


The adornment of that valley dear
Compelled my ghost to let its grief,
Freshest scents of fruit were there –
As if from food I was replete.
Fowls flying in the woods together
Were flaming hues, both small and great,
But citole-string or citherner
Their music's mirth could not repeat,
And when those birds their wings beat
They sang with such a sweet assent,
Such gracious glee no man could meet
As here, or see their adornment.


All was adorned in dear device
In the forest where I fared
But to describe its gloriousness
No human tongue deserves to dare.
As I walked on in growing grace
No course or incline caused me care.
The further I went the fairer rose
The plain, the plants - the spices, pears -
Hedges and meadows by the river.
Gorgeous with gold the steep banks bent.
I went to the shore of the shining water -
Lord! It had a dear adornment.


The adornment of that darling deep
Was bonny banks of beryl bright.
Swinging sweetly the waters sweep,
With murmuring rondels, rippling straight.
Bright stones stood in the water's depth
Glinting through glass with glimmering light
That streams from stars, while strivers sleep,
From the sky on winter nights.
Each pebble in the pool was set
Emerald, sapphire or brilliant, 
So all the lake was set alight
With that dear adornment.




III


The dear adornment of dales and downs
Of woods and waters and worthy plains
Built up my bliss and balmed my wounds
Saw off my stress, destroyed my pains.
After a stream that ceaselessly winds
I bent in bliss, with brimful brains.
The further I followed the fields and fens
The stronger joy my heart felt strain.
As fortune to those she owns ordains,
Sending them solace or sorrows sore,
The gladder man who is given the gains
Comes to have always more and more.


More of pleasure was in that place
Than time would let me tell, if I could.
An earthly heart could not embrace
A tenth of the transports of that wood.
From pleasure I thought that paradise
Must have been over those banks broad.
I hoped the water was a device,
A gulf dividing good from good,
And in the valley beyond the flood
I hoped that heaven was held in store.
But the water was deep, I dared not wade,
And always I longed to, more and more.


More and more and yet still more
I wanted to breach the bank beyond,
For if it was fair where I could fare
Then lovelier was the further land.
I stopped and started to squint and stare
To see if a ford could fast be found.
But deadlier dangers, I deemed, were there
The further I stalked along the strand.
But I didn't want to wait around
Hindered by harms at heaven's door.
Then a new matter came to hand
That moved my mind still more and more.


More of a marvel than I had known
Ever. I saw beyond the mere
A crystal cliff that splendidly shone
With many royal rays, and clear.
At the foot a child sat down,
A damsel of dignity, debonair,
In a glistening white gown.
I knew her well, I had seen her before.
Like gleaming gold that craftsmen cut,
So shone the form on the further shore.
A long time I looked at the infant there,
The longer, I knew her more and more.


The more I frowned on her fair face,
When her fine figure I had seen,
Such gladdening glory came, and grace,
To where no grace before had been.
In love I longed to raise my voice
But doubt in my heart held it down -
To see her in so strange a place,
Such deep pain could make me dumb.
Then she moved her face around -
Pale as ivory, and pure.
It stung my heart, I was undone,
The longer I saw her, more and more.




IV


More than I willed my dread arose.
I stood still and dared not call,
With eyes open and mouth closed
I stood like a tame animal.
I thought it grace to see a ghost,
But then I feared the fate to fall -
I knew I risked return of loss
And if I stirred the dream would stall.
Her flawless form was undefiled,
So slight, so smooth, seemly and small.
She rose up, her array all royal -
A precious piece all set in pearls.


Sets of pearls like royals wear
There might men by grace have seen,
When that fresher-than-a-flower
Walked to where the water ran.
Radiant white, the gown she wore,
Tastefully made, with a treasured trim
Of prettier pearls, I swear I saw,
Than my eyes had ever seen.
Sloping sleeves were on her gown
With pearls sewn on in stately style
And with the same her skirts shone:
A suit all set with precious pearls.


A gem-set crown was on that girl
Of pearls and not another stone,
With pinnacles of clear-white pearl
And figured flowers. Just the crown
Sufficed to show her state was royal.
Her head was covered like a nun,
Her semblance sober as an earl
And whiter than a whale bone
And on her shoulders gold hair shone,
Light was caught along loose curls.
Her flawless pallor looked so fine
And perfect, even set in pearls.


Set on the seams and every hem
The sides, the front, and all along,
Were pearls and not another gem
And wholly white, without a stain.
And on her breast the best of them,
A pearl as perfect as any known.
A man might drive his wits to doom
Before he reckoned its renown.
I hope no man would trust his tongue
To speak with sense about that sight.
It was so clear and pure and clean,
That precious pearl, where it was set.


Set in pearls, that precious prize
Beyond the flowing of the flood.
No gladder man from here to Greece
Than me, when on the bank she stood.
Nearer to me than aunt or niece
She was – I had a greater good.
That comely creature raised her voice
And curtseyed low, as ladies would,
Laid off her crown of queenly pride
And then in courteous tone she calls.
It seemed a mercy I was made,
To see my sweet all set in pearls.




V


'O Pearl,' I said, 'In pearls set,
Are you my Pearl that I have lost?
Regretted on my own at night?
I had much longing, at great cost,
Since in the grass you slipped from sight.
Pensive and pained, I have no peace
And here you live a life all light
In Paradise garden, at your ease.
What fortune sent you to this place
And dealt me dole and grief and danger?
Since we were split apart in space
I've been a joyless jeweller.'


Then that gem in genteel jewels
Looked up with lifting eyes of grey,
Put on her crown of orient pearls
And soberly she spoke to say,
'Sir, you have your tale mistold
To say your pearl is all away
That is to such a coffin called
As this gracious garden's grove.
I must rejoice in this remove
Where moans or mourning never were.
A comelier casket you could not crave
If you were a gentle jeweller.


'But, gentle jeweller, if you lose
Your joy for a beloved jewel
I think you have a mad purpose
To trouble about a trivial trial.
What you lost was just a rose
That flowered and, following nature, failed.
In this kind of coffin closed
A pearl of price it will prevail.
You call that kindness criminal
That made your nothing something more,
Blaming the treatment for your trouble.
You are no just jeweller.'


A jewel to me was manifest
And jewels were her gentle words.
'Indeed,' I said, 'My blissful best,
My great distress you have dispersed.
To be excused I make request -
I thought my pearl was done and dead.
I famished – now you're found, I feast
To live with you in the lovely woods
And love my Lord and all his works,
Whose dealings brought my darling near -
When I'm with you, beyond the brook,
I'll be a joyful jeweller.'


'Jeweller,' said that glowing gem,
'Why must you joke? You men are mad!
You spoke three speeches at one time
And all the three were ill-inferred.
You have no hold on what you mean,
Your words before your wits have sped.
You claim you find me in this clime
As if your eyes can't be misled,
And then you think that in this wood
You’ll rest and dwell with me, right here.
And third, you'll forge beyond the flood -
That may no joyful jeweller.




VI


'I hold that jeweller somewhat shamed
Who solely trusts in what he sees,
Discourteous and much to blame
If he believes our Lord would lie
Who swore our souls would be redeemed
Though fortune made our flesh to die.
Perhaps you think his vow was vain
If you trust only in your eyes.
Good man, and evil arrogance
Has made you your belief begrudge
And give no counsel confidence
But what you have the wit to judge.


'Judge for yourself if you have spoken
As man to God may speak, or should.
You say you'll dwell in this domain
But first ask if you are allowed,
And then the grant may not be given.
You think to ford the fearsome flood
But first you've other rites to reckon.
Clad your corpse in cold mud:
It was corrupted in the garden
When Adam earned his sinner's wage.
For that our bodies must be broken
Before we journey to our Judge.'


'Judge that I must,' I said, 'my dear,
Miss you again and I will mourn.
Since I was brought here, can I bear
To live, and lose you once again?
Can I not keep what I recaptured?
My precious pearl brings me great pain.
What use are trinkets that men treasure?
We lose them and are left alone.
I would welcome any wrong
Harmed by no hurt, however huge.
When my precious pearl is gone
I'll grieve forever, as I judge.'


'You judge your case to be accursed,'
The maiden said. 'Why is it so?
Lamenting for a little loss
Often men miss out on more.
Make the sign of the cross
And love your God, in joy or woe.
Anger accesses no redress,
Patience must suit the sufferer.
Stagger in anguish like a deer
With dogs, or rant and rail with rage.
Eventually you must endure
And take the judgement of the judge.


'Judge your God, object, accuse,
But from his course he will not move.
Your influence does not increase
If you are sad and never laugh.
Quibbles and complaints must cease.
Swiftly and soberly seek His love.
Your prayer to pity has some reach
And mercy then may show her craft.
His comfort can your sorrow soothe,
Kindness your anguish can assuage,
For though you weep and wail and writhe
All lies with him to rule and judge.'




VII


I judged an answer to my pearl.
'I did not wish to wrong the Lord.
I stumble and do not speak well -
I was in pain and my heart poured
Like water from a waterfall.
May he forgive me for my words.
Do not condemn me or be cruel
And though I err, my dear adored,
Still cast me kindly your comfort.
Have pity when you ponder this:
Of care and me you made accord.
You were the ground of all my bliss.


'My bliss, my loss, you have been both.
But more piercing was my pain:
When you escaped from mortal earth
I never knew where my pearl had gone.
Now you're revealed you bring relief.
And, when we parted, we were one -
God forbid we grow aggrieved,
We meet so seldom where I roam.
Your courtly speech befits your crown
But I am dust, and manners miss.
But the mercy of Christ, Mary and John,
These are the grounds of all my bliss.


'I see you set in stately bliss
But mine has been a mournful fate.
Here is the news you notice less:
I have been harrowed by harm's hate.
But now I am here in your presence
I beseech, without debate,
That you would speak in sober voice
Of the life you lead, early and late.
I am so glad that your estate
Is worthy of worship, blessed with ease.
I think no joy could be more great -
It is the ground of all my bliss.'


'Now Sir, may bliss with you abide,'
Said that lovely-of-look-and-air.
'Be welcome here to walk and bide,
Now your speech to me is dear.
Masterful moods and high pride,
I warn you, are heartily hated here.
My Lord does not love those who chide -
Meek are all that he holds near.
When in this place you appear
Be deeply devout in holy meekness.
My Lord the Lamb always loves such cheer;
He is the ground of all my bliss.


'A blissful life you say I lead
And long to learn more. I oblige:
Remember, when your pearl departed,
I was young, of tender age.
But my Lord the Lamb, for good,
Made me to be his in marriage,
Crowned me queen in bliss to bide
And live forever with my liege.
Inheritor of his heritage,
His lover. I am wholly his.
His princely peerage and prestige
Are root and ground of all my bliss.'




VIII


'My bliss,' I said, 'can this be true?
Have patience if I speak in error.
Are you the queen of the heavens blue
To whom the whole world will do honour?
Our faith's in Mary, whose grace grew:
Her child in chastity could flower.
Who could that queen's crown remove
Without surpassing her in favour?
For her sweet, singular demeanour
We call her the Phoenix of Arraby
That flawless flew from its creator,
As did the queen of courtesy.'


'Courteous queen,' the lady said,
Kneeling down with upturned face.
'Matchless mother and merriest maid,
Blessed beginner of every grace!'
Then she stood again and paused
And spoke more across that space.
'Sir, many seek and win reward
But no supplanters are in this place.
That empress rules paradise,
Earth and hell in her royalty.
To honour others is her choice
For she is queen of courtesy.


'The living God is king of a court
With an implicit property:
All his people that take part
Are queens and kings in fealty.
None shall resent another's state
But wish for his richer royalty,
His crown to grow five times more great
If greater grace could ever be.
But the lady of Christ's nativity
Holds an ascendency most high
With the concord of all our company,
For she is queen of courtesy.


'By courtesy, as says St Paul,
We all are members of Jesus Christ.
As head and arms and leg and navel
Are fixed to the body, firm and fast,
Just the same each Christian soul
Is limb to the Lord of truth and trust.
Look whether hate or any gall
Is known between one limb and the next.
The head is not dismayed or vexed
By the throat or finger's jewellery.
There is happiness in all the host
For the king and queen of courtesy.'


'Courtesy,' I said, 'I believe
And charity are in your throng.
May my speech not make you grieve:
You heave yourself to high in heaven,
Declared the queen - you were so young.
What honour then might he achieve
That stayed on earth steadfast and strong
And lived in penance his life long,
With bodily pains his bliss to buy?
What better worship could this bring
Than be crowned king, by courtesy?




IX


'That courtesy is too free of hand
If you are sure of what you say.
You didn't live two years in our land -
Too young to please God, or to pray,
Or hails and creeds to understand -
And made a queen on the first day!
I can't believe, as you contend,
That God would work so far awry.
The title of countess is, my lady,
Suited in heaven to your estate,
Or dame, or title of less degree,
But queen! You are no candidate.'


'There is no end-date to God's grace,'
Commenced the answer of the maid,
'And all is truth that he ordains
And all he does is wholly good,
As Matthew preaches in your mass
In the gospel of your God.
In parable he pictures this,
With Heaven's likeness in his words:
“The vineyard of a certain Lord
Is like my reign in heaven's height.
The time of year, the season served
To work in the vineyard on that date.


' “The date of the year was known to men.
The Lord rose early in the day
To hire helpers for his vines.
They settled on a sum to pay;
Dealt each day as day declines
The workers' wage will be a penny.
And so they start and do great pain
Carrying, cutting and tying securely.
The Lord to market makes his way,
Where he sees idle men who wait.
He asks them, 'Why stop here and stay -
Does no one know of this day's date?'


'“'This date is the day we rose at dawn,'
So each answered that he sought,
'We stood here since the rise of sun
And no man bids us to do nought.'
'Go to my vine, do what you can,'
Said the Lord, and settled straight:
'What worker's wages might be won
I will pay in deed and thought.'
They took to the task they had been set
And all day long the Lord repeats
This business, and new bondsmen bought,
Until the declining of the date.


'“That date, at the time of evensong,
One hour before the sun goes down
The Lord saw idle men, and strong.
He said to them in sober tone
'Why linger idle all day long?'
They said their hire was nowhere bound.
'Go to my vineyard, yeoman young,
And work and do all that you can.'
Then the world burnt out to brown,
The sun went down and it got late.
The Lord to the labour sent a summon -
It was the declining of the date.




X


'“The Lord, to validate his vow,
Then called the reeve. 'Sir, pay the men.
Give them the wages that I owe
And, just so justice may be seen,
Line up the labourers in a row
Present each person with a penny.
Begin with the last one that stands low
Until the first one in the line’.
Then the first claimants all complain:
'Their penny only pays one hour;
All day we strove and felt the strain.
We think that you should pay us more.'


'“'We have served more, as you must know,
That toiled in heat and troubled much,
Than some who worked an hour or two -
How do those men our merit match?'
Then the Lord said to the first few,
'Friends, I do not reduce your wage.
Take what is owed to you and go.
I promised you a penny each.
You have no cause to take umbrage,
Wasn't a penny your whole hire?
It is not proper to fault my pledge.
Why should you now ask for more?'


'“'What is more, it's in my gift
To deal my riches as I choose.
Or do you grudge it with such grief
That I am good, and let none lose?’”
Christ said, “This shall be my craft:
The first shall be the last that goes,
The first the last, however swift,
For many are reckoned, though few shall rise.”
Thus poor men shall earn their place
Though they come late and still obscure
And took their pains to little purpose;
The mercy of God shall be the more.


'Here I have more of joy and bliss,
Noble status and renown
Than any person could purchase
Proving the justice of his claim.
My work closed as I commenced -
I came at evening to the vine -
The Lord remembered my rights first
And promptly paid me the whole sum.
There are others that take more time,
That work and sweat for year on year,
And still their wages do not come,
And this year they may not earn more.'


Then I spoke and plainly said,
'I think your tale unreasonable.
God's justice will not be delayed
Or Holy Writ is just a fable.
In the Psalter it is read
With truth incontrovertible,
'By desert we reap reward
From Heaven's King inexorable'.
If he that stands the whole day stable
Must see you paid so long before
Less work will see the payment double:
The less the labour, the pay is more.'




XI


'Of more and less in God's reign,'
The lady said, 'there is no word.
Each servant there is paid the same,
Whatever he gives to gain reward.
Our gentle master is not mean,
Whether his sentence is soft or hard.
His favour flows like a strong stream
From a deep source that never dried.
His bliss is great that shall abide
By Christ who Adam's curse cast off,
And no delight shall be denied,
For the grace of God is great enough.


'But, to shame me, now you state
That I have taken my penny wrongly.
You tell me that I came too late
And am not fit to get my fee.
Is there a man that you have met,
In deed or word however holy,
That never faltered and forfeited
His sight of heaven's majesty?
The further they go, more frequently
Go wrong because the way is rough.
Such men should trust to grace and mercy.
The grace of God is great enough.


'Enough grace have the innocent
As soon as they are born, and when
They feel the water of the font
Then they are taken to the vine.
Now day takes a darker tint
And to the night of death declines.
They did no wrong before they went.
The gentle Lord then pays his pawns.
They did his will, they stood in line -
Why should there work then have no worth
And yield no pay when day is done?
The grace of God is great enough.


'Enough it's told that proud mankind
Was formed to live in bliss and light.
Our first forefather was fined
For an apple that he bit.
For that feast we all are damned
To die in pain, and miss delight,
And afterwards to hell's heat destined
To live forever without respite.
But a medicine was bought:
Rich blood running on the cross
And precious water from a wound -
The grace of God grew great enough.


'Water enough, as from a well,
Blood and water from a broad wound.
The blood brought us from burning hell,
Delivered from our second doom.
The water is holy, truth will tell,
That followed the spear so cruelly sharpened.
It washes off the vice, most vile,
And deadly sins in which we drowned.
There is not an inch of ground
To bar our bliss that was not removed.
In a blessed hour our bliss is found -
The grace of God is great enough.




XII


'Grace enough a man might have,
Returned to sin, if he repents
And in grief God's mercy craves
Accepting pain as punishment.
But reason, as is right, can save
Forever more the innocent.
It is a doom God never gave
That the guiltless should be burnt.
In guilt, contrition may be learnt.
Grace, through mercy, may be bought.
But souls that sin could never stain,
As innocents, are safe by right.


'Rightly I know it in this case:
To save two troops is in God's will.
The righteous man shall see his face,
The innocent shall know him well.
The Psalter says it in this piece:
“Lord, who shall climb your high hill
And rest within the holy place?”
The Psalmist answers in this style:
“The harmless hands that did no evil,
Who have hearts both clean and light.
They will step here safe and stable.”
The innocent are safe by right.


'And the righteous, it is certain,
Shall approach that flawless fort.
Who value virtue, are not vain,
Nor damage neighbours with deceit.
To the righteous, Solomon
Says, Wisdom her honour brought,
And used her reason to explain,
And of God's Kingdom gave him sight,
Like one that a lovely land points out,
Saying, “The strong shall reach that state.”
But definitely, without doubt,
The innocent are safe by right.


'And of the righteous still a word
David in the Psalter says:
“No one is perfect before the Lord;
Save your servants from your justice.”
When to the court you shall be called
Where we are tried on every case
False testament will be abhorred.
David's words have further force:
Only the death upon the cross
Where holy hands were nailed and split,
When you are tried, will let you pass,
Through innocence, and not by right.


'Let him that scripture rightly reads
Look inside his book and learn
How Jesus walked Judean roads
And parents prayed the holy one
That had so many blessed and healed
In charity to touch their children.
His disciples held the crowd,
Rebuffed them with reproaches stern.
Jesus said sweetly to his men:
“All the infants I invite;
Heaven is peopled by their kind.”
The innocent are safe by right.




XIII


'Christ called up his good disciples
And said no man will enter heaven
Unless he comes there like a child
Or else he never enters in.
Harmless, true and undefiled
Without a spot or speck of sin -
When the sinless reach the stronghold
The gates will be made open soon.
There is a good beyond all gain
A jeweller sought in a gem of price,
And sold his goods, both wool and linen,
To buy a pearl that was flawless.


'This flawless pearl, whose price is dear,
Gained in exchange for all his goods,
Is like the Kingdom, to compare,
Said the Father of fields and floods.
The pearl is perfect, pure and clear,
Forever round, flawlessly formed
And given to the good to wear.
Here on my breast you see it held.
My Lord the Lamb, that shed his blood,
Placed it there as a sign of peace.
I counsel you, forsake the world
And purchase the pearl that is flawless.'


'Flawless pearl among pearls pure,
That holds,' I said, 'The pearl of price.
Who formed you, and your fair figure?
The weaver of your clothes was wise.
Your beauty never bloomed from nature,
Pygmalion could not paint that face,
Nor Aristotle, in his letters,
Speaks of your special properties.
You are more fair than fleur de lys,
Your angel-aspect has finesse.
Brief me, Bright, what kind of office
Befits a pearl so flawless?'


'My matchless lamb that makes amends,'
She said, 'My dear destiny,
Made me his bride, although the bans
Had not been proper previously.
When I left your dreary lands
He called me to his company.
“Come to me, my love and friend,
There is no stain or spot in you.”
He gave me might and matching beauty.
On a dais, in blood he washed my dress,
Crowned me clean in virginity,
And set me in pearls that are flawless.'


'Flawless bride that brightly flames
Radiant and rich enough,
What kind of creature is the Lamb
That would take you as his wife?
You climb over those with equal claim
To lead so privileged a life.
Countless ladies of your kind
Suffered for Christ with greater strife.
It is those dear ones you deprive,
And in your marriage take their place.
While only you stand firm and thrive,
An unmatched maiden, and flawless.'




XIV


'Flawless,' said that fair queen,
'Unblemished I am, without blot,
And that I can with truth maintain.
But “flawless queen” I have not said.
I live with lovers of the Lamb,
A hundred and forty thousand, not
Less, at Apocalypse, were seen.
St John saw us where we stood
On Zyon's hill, that seemly site.
The Apostle saw in a spirit-dream
Our wedding day on that high spot,
The New City of Jerusalem.


'Of that Jerusalem I tell.
If you want to know his ways -
My Lamb, my Lord, my dear jewel,
My bliss, my noble love, my joy -
The prophet Isaiah told us all:
The gentleness and gentility
Of that glorious person, killed
Without just charge of felony.
Like a sheep to slaughter he
Went where they led him. Like a lamb
He suffered slander silently
When Jews judged him in Jerusalem.


'In Jerusalem my love was slain:
Criminals caught him, he was bound.
It was his place to take our pain
And the cold care of our kind.
They tortured him, his flesh was torn,
His unblemished form was bent.
He sacrificed himself for sin
But he himself had known no taint.
He let himself be scourged and scorned
And twisted on a splintered beam.
As meek as a lamb that made no sound,
He died for us in Jerusalem.


‘In Jerusalem, Jordan and Galilee,
Where he did baptisms, St John
Spoke in accordance with Isaiah
When he first saw Jesus come.
He pronounced this prophecy:
“Lord, I have truly seen the Lamb
That lifts our heavy sins away,
That all the wretched world has done.
His own sins will number none
But all our sins are his to claim.
Who has honoured his generation
That died for us in Jerusalem?”


'In Jerusalem my sweet
Was two times taken for a Lamb
In the records of each prophet,
He was so meek in mood and mien.
Thirdly, this account is set
In the Apocalypse of John:
The Apostle saw him where he sat
With saints, at the centre of the throne.
He plainly saw a book held open -
Seven seals were on its seam.
When they saw it, hosts bowed down
In hell and earth and Jerusalem.




XV


‘The lamb of Jerusalem has no blemish
Or any hue but lovely white.
No spot or stain could be attached
To wool so plentiful and bright.
The soul that sin could never reach
Makes the lamb a worthy mate.
Though every day a spouse is fetched
There is no discord or dispute.
We wish each one were five, in court;
The more the merrier, God bless.
In a great group our delight
And honour is more and never less.


‘None could bring us less of bliss
That bear the pearl upon our breasts.
Our courtesy cannot decrease -
The perfect pearl is our pure crest.
The cold clot clings to every corpse
Yet you plead for pain that's past.
We perceive all from our peace
And in one death our hope will rest.
In the lamb's embrace our woe is eased
And at the banquet we are blessed,
Each one's bliss the greatest and best
And no one's honour any the less.


‘If you trust less in my account,
Revelation recounts in full
When John says, “I saw the lamb stand
On mount Zyon, righteous and royal,
And with him were one hundred thousand
And forty-four thousand maidens loyal.
Forged on their foreheads I found
The lamb's name and his father's title.
I heard a shout from heaven peal
Like bursting rivers as they rise
And in the storm clouds thunder rolls,
A cry as loud and never less.


‘“Nevertheless, though it rang sharp
And echoed deep, and blasted loud,
I heard a new note taking shape
One that was glorious and glad.
Like harpers harping on their harps
The notes were formed, and notes replied,
And gentle accents in a group
Combined in carrying accord.
Right before the throne of God
The four beasts bowed down to his grace,
And elder-men, their faces sad,
Sang with the music nevertheless.


‘“Unless a chorister in that crew,
Or else a singer of that song,
No musician ever knew
Notes like the music of the lamb.
They are redeemed and fresh as new,
The fruit of God, at home in heaven,
Lovers of the lamb. Their hue
Is white as his, their holy husband.
No untruth has touched their tongues,
No dishonour in distress.
The graceful group can never be gone
From their matchless master, nevertheless.”'


'Do not think I thank you less,
My pearl, if I still speak,' I said.
'I shouldn't test a wit so wise,
Choice of Christ's chamber, blessed bride.
I am earthly dust and dross,
But on the blissful bank you bide
In royalty, a noble rose,
Where festive days will never fade.
My casket, that encloses good,
I pose a question more precise.
Though I am common and I'm crude,
Let me ask it, nevertheless.




XVI


'Nevertheless, and if you will,
I ask you simply, see it done,
If you are glorious, without gall,
Do not withhold this special boon.
Have you a suite within the castle,
Rooms to reside in and remain?
Jerusalem, of which you tell,
Destined to David on the throne,
Cannot be near where you are seen
But in Judea, it is rote.
As you are stainless in the sun,
Your home should be without a spot.


'Surely the spotless retinue
Of thousands in a royal rout
Requires - you are far from few -
A splendid city, without doubt.
For such dear gems it would not do
To sleep outside, or roam about,
And on the banks where we are now
A stately home is not in sight.
I conclude you always wait
Beside the river, set apart.
If there is a city state
Then take me to that lovely spot.'


'The spot you speak of is in Judea,'
That rare personage replied.
'The lamb lived in that place before
To suffer sorrow for mankind.
The old Jerusalem is there,
And there man's guilt has been unmade.
The new in light of God appears,
As the Apostle truly said.
There the lamb that never strayed
His chosen company has brought,
And as his party is unstained
So is his place without a spot.


'Two spots discretely to define,
Both named Jerusalem, nonetheless -
To you that name should only mean
'City of God' or 'Site of Peace' -
In the one our peace was won,
Our saviour suffered as he chose.
The other is the peace to come
That lasts forever without cease.
That is the place to which we press
After our flesh is laid to rot,
Where glory and where bliss increase
To the troop without a spot.'


'Spotless maiden meek and mild,'
I said then to that lovely flower,
'Take me to the second stronghold,
Let me see that blissful bower.'
She said 'That honour is withheld.
You may not enter in the tower,
But the gentle lamb has willed
You see the site, as a great favour.
Lay your eyes on the enclosure
You may, but may not set a foot.
To step there is not in your power
Unless you were clean, without a spot.




XVII


'If you want to see this spot
Go up towards the river's head
And I will follow opposite.
To a high hill you will be led.'
Then I would no longer wait
But burst through branches of lovely leaves
Till on a hill it hove in sight;
I saw the city as I arrived.
Beyond the water's course that carved
Sheerer than sunlight's shafts it shone.
In the Apocalypse it is proved
By words of the Apostle John.


As the Apostle John beheld,
I saw the city of great renown:
Jerusalem all newly jewelled,
From heaven it descended down.
The burgh was all of blazing gold,
Like glinting glass it gleamed and shone
With gentle gems set in and held.
Twelve bands on the base were bound,
The twelve foundations richly joined.
Each tier was of a special stone
As is described of that tall town
In the Apocalypse of John.


John numbers every stone by name
And I named them from the scripture.
Jasper was the first gem,
I saw it on the lowest tier:
Green and opaque, the grounding stratum.
The second level was sapphire.
Chalcedony's sober charm
Made the third platform pale and pure.
The fourth, of emerald, stood secure.
Sardonyx was the fifth stone,
Sixth was the ruby, red and rare,
As shown to the Apostle John.


The Apostle John counts chrysolite
Of the foundations, number seven.
The eighth was beryl, clear and white,
Then the two-toned topaz graven.
Chrysophrase, the tenth, was set.
Elegant jacinth was eleven.
The twelfth and topmost tier was bright
Amethyst and indigo. Even
Above them stood the wall of heaven:
Green jasper that gleamed and shone,
Exactly as the names are given
In the Apocalypse of John.


Like John's account, I saw appear
The twelve foundations, steep and sheer.
The city stood above them, square:
As long, as broad, as high, as fair.
And streets of gold were glassy clear,
The glints of jasper made a glare,
And supplementing every structure
Endless jewels that eyes admire.
All four sides were made to measure
Twelve furlongs in precious stone,
In height, in breadth, in length; the treasure
Testified to by St John.




XVIII


And as John writes, there's more I tell:
Each side of the city had three gates,
Twelve in total in the wall,
Portals set with precious plates.
On every gate there was a pearl
As comely as the Lord creates.
All that were born of Israel
Are named there, following their dates.
The writing on the wall relates,
From first to last, when they were born.
Such light illuminates the streets
They have no need of sun or moon.


The moon and sun are not required:
God himself is all the light,
The lamb a lantern. From the Lord
The stunning city shone so bright.
My observations weren't obscured
By limpid buildings in that state.
Through their forms the throne was bared,
Set in jewels, to my sight.
As the Apostle came to write,
God himself was on the throne.
A river running from where he sat,
Was brighter than the sun and moon.


Sunlight and moonlight aren't as sweet
As the flow that flooded from that place.
Swiftly it swings through every street,
Pure of polluting dirt and grease.
There was no Chapel where Christians meet,
Church or Cathedral's edifice -
God was the minister, and the meat
At mass was the lamb's sacrifice.
The gates don't close in Paradise,
Eternally open and entered soon,
But no one enters in unless
They bear no spot beneath the moon.


The moon is sickly in that state.
She is too spotted and too grim
And in that place there is no night.
Why should she show there, in her shame,
To rival the resplendent light
Reflecting on the river's rim?
The planets are too poor and trite,
The sun itself is far too dim.
Shining trees attend the stream;
Twelve times a year their fruit is grown,
Twelve types of fruit on every limb,
Replenished under each new moon.


Under the moon no earthly heart
Might endure the marvels seen
When I regarded the rampart
So wonderful, and all within.
Dazed by the dream I was as quiet
As a stunned quail, and still as stone,
Senseless and numb in every part,
I was so ravished by the town.
I dare to say no mortal man,
Though he knew all beneath the sun,
Could go in body where ghosts have gone;
It's death to all beneath the moon.




XIX


Just as the lovely moon will rise
Before daylight is fully done,
Suddenly, and marvellous,
I was aware of a procession.
The noble city, sure of praise,
Filled suddenly, without a summon,
With virgins all in the same guise
As my Blissful, in her crown.
All were crowned in the same fashion,
Set with pearls and dressed in white.
Bound on the breast of every one,
A blissful pearl of great delight.


In great delight the dames progressed
Through golden streets that gleamed like glass.
A hundred thousand virgins chaste,
Alike in details of their dress.
I did not know which loved him best -
Their lord, the lamb. I saw him pass
With seven golden horns, and fleeced
With pearls, uniquely precious.
They trod together to a dais;
The rested ranks were ordered right.
As mild as maidens seem at mass
The troop walked on in great delight.


Delight in their leader lit the land
And was too much for me to tell.
The elders bowed and kissed the ground,
Grovelling at his feet they fell.
Legions of angels, at command,
Scattered incense, sweet to smell.
Joy was renewed and praise returned,
They sang in love for that bright jewel.
The sound could strike through earth to hell
Of the Virtues in their flight.
To love the lamb among the loyal,
I thought, would be a great delight.


Delight in looking on the lamb
Came with wonder as I spied.
He was the best in faith and fame
Of whom a word was ever said.
Clothed in whiteness when he came,
Gentle and gracious in his pride.
But a wide wound with a red gleam,
Close to his heart, had torn his hide.
Blood was wet on his white side.
Alas, I thought, who did that spite?
A piteous person would have died
Before he saw it with delight.


The lamb's delight was clearly seen,
Though he was hurt and bore a wound.
His princely pleasure showed no pain,
He cast such lovely looks around.
I looked among his taintless train
Where loveliness and life abound.
There I saw my little queen
I thought was where the water wends.
She looked so merry with her friends
In company that was so white.
Desire to meet her drenched my mind
In love-longing and great delight.




XX


Delight poured through me, eye and ear,
My mind was melted and made mad.
When I saw my darling there
I longed to leap beyond the flood.
I thought no force at all could hinder
My haste to hold that precious maid.
No one could keep me from the water,
I'd swim across although I died.
But that dispatch was denied -
Just as I dove into the spray
I was aborted in the deed.
I had not earned my Prince's pay.


The patient Prince would not let pass
The reckless rashness of my will.
Rough amid wonders as I was,
He showed the shortness of my skill.
Just as I reached the river's course
It shuddered and I felt a pull.
I woke in the garden, on the grass.
My head was laid on that sweet hill
Where my precious pearl once fell.
I roused myself to great dismay
And, sighing, spoke the words in full:
'Now all is to my Prince's pay.'


It did not please me to be paid
With banishment from where I'd been,
And for the sights so good and glad
A heavy longing struck me down.
I whispered a rueful word:
'O Pearl,' I said, 'my precious one
And dear to me in what you said
In a truthful vision shown.
If you are in that garland-crown,
If you are true in what you say,
From my dungeon grief has gone
Since you are for my Prince's pay.'


Had I been patient for my pay,
Not hoped for more than I could have,
And made myself stand still and stay,
As Pearl had prayed me to be grave,
Maybe a further mystery
I would have learned, a greater love.
But always men want more than they
Are owed, or rightly can achieve.
Greedy, we are made to grieve
And banished when we disobey.
Men are mad who fight and strive
Against the Prince while in his pay.


To please the prince and serve him right
Is simple when our faith is found.
I have found him, day and night,
A God, a Lord, a loving friend.
On this hill I strained my heart
For pity of the pearl I mourned.
Since Christ is comfort to my thought
I trust my treasure to his hand.
His gracious blessing can be gained
In mass we witness every day.
He lets us serve him in his land
As precious pearls, to be his pay.