Classic Poem

Shrewd was the good St. Martin; he was famed
For sly expedients and devices quaint;
And autumn's latest sunny days are named
St. Martin's summer from the genial saint.
Large were his charities; one winter day
He saw a half-clad beggar in the way,
And stopped and said: " Well met, my friend, well met;
That nose of thine, I see, is quite too blue. "
With that his trenchant sword he drew —
For he was in the service yet —
And cut his military cloak in two;
And with a pleasant laugh
He bade the shivering rogue take half.

On one of the great roads of France
Two travellers were journeying on a day.
The saint drew near, as if by chance,
And joined them, walking the same way.
A shabby pair in truth were they,
For one was meanly covetous, and one
An envious wretch — so doth the legend run.
Yet courteously they greeted him, and talked
Of current topics; for example, whether
There would be war, and what to-morrow's weather,
Cheating the weary furlongs as they walked.
And when the eventide drew near
Thus spoke the saint: " We part to-night;
I am St. Martin, and I give you here
The means to make your fortunes, used aright;
Let one of you think what will please him best,
And freely ask what I will freely give.
And he who asks not shall from me receive
Twice what the other gains by his request;
And now I take my leave. "
He spoke, and left the astonished men
Delighted with his words; but then
The question rose, which of that lucky pair
Should speak the wish and take the smaller share.
Each begged the other not to heed
The promptings of a selfish greed,
But frame at once, since he so well knew how,
The amplest, fullest wish that words allow.
" Dear comrade, act a princely part;
Lay every sordid thought aside;
Show thyself generous as thou art;
Take counsel of thy own large heart,
And nobly for our common good provide. "
But neither prayers nor flatteries availed;
They passed from these to threats, and threats too failed.
Thus went the pleadings on, until at last
The covetous man, his very blood on fire,
Flew at his fellow's throat and clenched it fast,
And shrieked: " Die, then, or do what I require;
Die, strangled like a dog. " That taunt awoke
A fierce anger in his envious mate,
And merged the thirst of gain in bitter hate;
And with a half-choked voice he spoke,
Dissembling his malign intent,
" Take off thy hand and I consent. "
The grasp was loosened, and he raised a shout,
" I wish that one of my own eyes were out. "
The wish was gratified as soon as heard.
St. Martin punctually kept his word.
The envious man was one-eyed from that day,
The other blind for his whole life remained.
And this was all the good that either gained
From the saint's offer in the public way.