Then after many years, upon a morn In early autumn, when the aspen trees Were turning golden, and the starlings sang In darkling flocks from meadows shorn and sear, The pastor took his much accustomed walk, For he did love to be alone and muse Upon the wondrous scenes around his home, And feel great nature’s sweet and changing moods. Although the years had turned his hair to grey, And robbed his steps of elasticity, Still was his spirit quite susceptible To happiness, but more to sorrow’s touch, And on a day like this with feelings mixed, The sadness of the dying summer won, And thoughts of life, its purpose and its end Did occupy his mind as he did meet The sibyl, by a certain turn of road; For twenty years he had not seen her face, And it did startle him to meet her now. She, too, had changed, and silver locks adorned Her noble forehead, but her eyes were keen And piercing, even as in days of youth. And as she stopped to speak with him, he felt Their searching glances knew his very soul. “Long working-day has God ordained for thee”, She said, to which he sadly answered thus: “My life seems but a transitory dream, And all its efforts profitless and vain.” “When thou art dust, thy prayer shall be heard,” She said a-smiling, and passed on her way. He too moved on, while pondering her words,-- The dark enigma of the prophetess.
The Sibyl’s prophecies we thus have heard, And their fulfilment now we will relate, Which have their place in ages afterwards.-- The priest as well as prophetess were gone, And so were generations after them, Half hidden by the dread oblivion; The prophecy forgotten;--but a few Had heard it as an old tradition vague, A fable only, to which none gave heed, Though twain ash saplings grew from year to year, And saw at least two generations pass, Before their branches met above the church; A breach also was creeping from the ground Up through the side-wall’s massive masonry, Increasing with the changes of the years, Two things which did recall the sibyl’s lore, And led the people to cut down the trees, To fill the rent and hide it from man’s view. Again they felt assured that all was well, But from the roots new shoots began to grow And unmolested through full many years.