Narrative Poems, part 1, Vaudois Teacher etc | Page 3

"No common wrong provoked our zeal,
The silken gauntlet which is thrown
In such a quarrel rings like
steel."
Even Thomas Jefferson, in his terrible denunciation of Slavery in the
Notes on Virginia, says "It is impossible to be temperate and pursue the
subject of Slavery." After the great contest was over, no class of the
American people were more ready, with kind words and deprecation of
harsh retaliation, to welcome back the revolted States than the
Abolitionists; and none have since more heartily rejoiced at the fast
increasing prosperity of the South.
Grateful for the measure of favor which has been accorded to my
writings, I leave this edition with the public. It contains all that I care to
re-publish, and some things which, had the matter of choice been left
solely to myself, I should have omitted.

J. G. W.
NARRATIVE AND LEGENDARY POEMS
THE VAUDOIS TEACHER.
This poem was suggested by the account given of the manner which the
Waldenses disseminated their principles among the Catholic gentry.
They gained access to the house through their occupation as peddlers of
silks, jewels, and trinkets. "Having disposed of some of their goods," it
is said by a writer who quotes the inquisitor Rainerus Sacco, "they
cautiously intimated that they had commodities far more valuable than
these, inestimable jewels, which they would show if they could be
protected from the clergy. They would then give their purchasers a
Bible or Testament; and thereby many were deluded into heresy." The
poem, under the title Le Colporteur Vaudois, was translated into French
by Professor G. de Felice, of Montauban, and further naturalized by
Professor Alexandre Rodolphe Vinet, who quoted it in his lectures on
French literature, afterwards published. It became familiar in this form
to the Waldenses, who adopted it as a household poem. An American
clergyman, J. C. Fletcher, frequently heard it when he was a student,
about the year 1850, in the theological seminary at Geneva,
Switzerland, but the authorship of the poem was unknown to those who
used it. Twenty-five years later, Mr. Fletcher, learning the name of the
author, wrote to the moderator of the Waldensian synod at La Tour,
giving the information. At the banquet which closed the meeting of the
synod, the moderator announced the fact, and was instructed in the
name of the Waldensian church to write to me a letter of thanks. My
letter, written in reply, was translated into Italian and printed
throughout Italy.
"O LADY fair, these silks of mine
are beautiful and rare,--
The richest web of the Indian loom, which
beauty's
queen might wear;
And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with
whose

radiant light they vie;
I have brought them with me a weary
way,--will my
gentle lady buy?"
The lady smiled on the worn old man through the
dark and clustering curls
Which veiled her brow, as she bent to view
his
silks and glittering pearls;
And she placed their price in the old man's
hand
and lightly turned away,
But she paused at the wanderer's earnest
call,--
"My gentle lady, stay!
"O lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer
lustre flings,
Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown on
the lofty brow of kings;
A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose
virtue
shall not decay,
Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a
blessing on thy way!"
The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her
form of grace was seen,
Where her eye shone clear, and her dark
locks
waved their clasping pearls between;
"Bring forth thy pearl of
exceeding worth, thou
traveller gray and old,
And name the price of thy precious gem, and

my
page shall count thy gold."
The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a
small and meagre book,
Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his
folding robe he took!
"Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it
prove
as such to thee
Nay, keep thy gold--I ask it not, for the word of
God is free!"
The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift he
left behind
Hath had its pure and perfect work on that highborn
maiden's mind,
And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the
lowliness of truth,
And given her human heart to God in its beautiful
hour of youth
And she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil
faith had power,
The courtly knights of her father's train, and the
maidens of her bower;
And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales by
lordly