Carpophorus.
Can you any cause assign me
Whence this sadness is proceeding?
Chrysanthus.
From my earliest years to reading
Did my studious tastes incline me.
Something thus acquired doth wake
Doubts, and fears, and hopes, ah me!
That the things I read may be.
Carpophorus.
Then from me this lesson take.
Every mystery how obscure,
Is explained by faith alone;
All is clear when that is known:
’T is through faith I ’ll work your cure.
Since in that your healing lies,
Take it then from me.
Chrysanthus.
From
you
I infer all good: that true
Faith I hope which you advise.
Carpophorus (to Polemius).
Give me leave, sir, to address
Some few words to him alone,
Less reserve will then be shown. (The two retire
to one side.
Have you recognized me?
Chrysanthus.
Yes,
Every sign shows you are he
Who in my most perilous strait
Fled and left me to my fate.
Carpophorus.
God did that; and would you see
That it was His own work, say,
If I did not then absent me
Through His means, could I present me
As your teacher here to-day?
Chrysanthus.
No.
Carpophorus.
How just His providence!
Since I was preserved, that I
Here might seek you, and more nigh
Give you full intelligence
Leisurely of every doubt
Which disturbs you when you read.
Chrysanthus.
Mysteries they are indeed,
Difficult to be made out.
Carpophorus.
To the believer all is plain.
Chrysanthus.
I would believe, what must I do?—
Carpophorus.
Your intellectual pride subdue.
Chrysanthus.
I will subdue it, since ’t is vain.
Carpophorus.
Then the first thing to be done
Is to be baptized.
Chrysanthus.
I
bow,
Father, and implore it now.
Carpophorus.
Let us for the present shun
Further notice; lest suspicion
Should betray what we would smother;
Every day we ’ll see each other,
When I ’ll execute my mission:
I, to cure sin’s primal scath,
Will at fitting time baptize you,
Taking care to catechise you
In the principles of the faith;
Only now one admonition
Must I give; be armed, be ready
For the fight most fierce and steady
Ever fought for man’s perdition;
Oh! take heed, amid the advances
Of the fair who wish to win you,
’Mid the fires that burn within you,
’Mid lascivious looks and glances,
’Mid such various foes enlisted,
That you are not conquered by them.
Chrysanthus.
Women! oh! who dare defy them
By such dread allies assisted?