Instead of a message from the Lord!

A few more minutes, and then he knew

That all which the angel said was true!

A mountebank, in the market square,

Was making the people laugh and stare.

With antics more befitting an ape

Than any creature in human shape!

The hermit took his place with the rest,

Not heeding the crowd that round him pressed,

And earnestly set his eyes to scan

The face of the poor, unsaintly man.

Alas, there was little written there

Of inward peace or of answered prayer!

For all the paint, and the droll grimace,

'T was a haggard, anxious, weary face.

The mountebank saw, with vague surprise,

The patient, sorrowful, searching eyes,

Whose look, so solemn, and kindly too,

Seemed piercing all his disguises through.

They made him restless, he knew not why:

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