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The Vaudois Barbe
By John Greenleaf Whittier |
"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 thine own
fair neck
with whose radiant light they
vie;
I have brought them many 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."
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The lady glanced at the mirroring
steel
where her form of grace was
seen,
Where her eyes shone clear, and her dark
locks
waved their clasping pearl
between:
"Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth
then,
traveler gray and old,
And name
the price of thy precious gem,
and my
pages shall count thy gold."
The cloud went off the pilgrim's
brow,
as a small and meager
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 traveler 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 old gray
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 feet untrod,
Where
the poor and needy of the earth are rich
in the perfect love of God. |
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'On the late massacre in Piedmont'
"Avenge, O Lord, they slaughter'd saints,
whose bones
lie scatter'd on
the Alpine mountains
cold;
Ev'n them who kepth thy
truth so pure of old,
Forget not: in thy book record their
groans
Who were thy sheep,
and in their ancient
fold
Slain by the bloody
Piemontese that roll'd
Mother
with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to
the hills, and they
To
Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes
sow
O'er all th'Italian
fields, where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant; that from these
may grow
A hundred fold, who
having learn'd thy way
Early
may fly the Babylonian
woe.
John
Milton |
Ask of the Vaudois where his
sires,
For faith and freedom
bled?
Ask, where were lit the tortured
fires,
Where lay the holy
dead?
And he will tell thee, all
around
On fount, and turf,
and stone,
Far as the chamois' foot can
bound,
Their ashes have been
sown.
Rejoice, that human hearts, through
scorn,
Through shame, through
death, made strong;
Before the rocks and heaven have
borne
Witness to God so
long.
Felicia
Hemans.
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Song was always a vital part of the
Waldensian spiritual experience. In the face of fierce persecution, they
found encouragement in the "weapon of song". "The mountain heights and
rocky fastnesses have ever been the friendly refuge of God's people when
oppressed and hunted by their enemies. For hundreds of years the Waldenses
worshiped God amid the mountain solitudes, and there defied the armies of
kings and emperors. On their rocky heights, in sight of their enemies,
they sang the praise of Him who made the hills; and no opposing power
could silence their hymns of lofty cheer;--
"For the strength of the hills we bless
Thee,
Our God, our father's
God!
Thou hast made thy children
mighty
By the touch of the mountain
sod.
Thou has fixed our ark of
refuge
Where the spoiler's foot
ne'er trod;
For the strength of the hills we bless
Thee,
Our God, our father's
God!"
Signs of the Times, (2/2/82)
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To this day,
Waldensian Valley churches present beautiful musical programs composed of
a variety of choirs, ensembles and instrumental numbers, the origin of
their lyrics often found in their sacred history.
Reflecting the prevailing spirit of
ecumenism, in June, 1998, the Catholic church featured Waldensian choirs
and ensembles, some hymns referring specifically to their past experiences
of persecution, including the following song.
It was later expressed that this could
not have occurred even a few years ago.
The Sentinel of the Cave
"Watch, listen!,
On the alert!!
Watch, listen!, Be
alert!!
Following the steep path that leads
from the silent heights,
Down,
down to the dark valley below
to
worship at their altar of sacrifice.
The old, the austere,
walking along side
of the humble
young girl.
Confirmed in their ancient faith,
they follow down the steep Alpine
trail.
A sweet mother with her son tied to her
flank,
walks alongside a very weary
old man.
Of one heart they go to worship
together
at their secret
cave.
Arriving just as the first light begins
to glow in the heavens,
The old
man opens the sacred book and reads.
He wrinkles his anxious
forehead and listens
to the little
flock as they sing.
Outside, the lyre-bird also joins in singing;
All seems very peaceful. |
Chorus: (sing twice)
But, hark! From the
summit, there comes a
shout!!
Warning of
danger!!
In the night!
Soldiers!
Hushed now is the song of the
flock;
Disheartened with anxiety
and with terror.
But the eyes of the pious old man turn
and look up in faith,
While
praying to the God of love.
Look! The enemies are fleeing!,
Driven by a strange terror in their heart,
they wildly flee!
In solemn
awe, every voice in the cave
still
refrain from singing their ancient Psalm.
When God shows Himself
to the enemy,
In just that instant
the enemy is defeated!
G. Comba |
One of the most
cherished historical events to the Waldensian is known as "The Glorious
Return". A Waldensian historian records this background.
"The country devastated, the fields,
the meadows, the Alpine pastures reduced to solitude, the villages burned
down, the soil covered with human bodies, the prisons and dungeons filled
with victims,....everywhere silence, desolation and death; such was the
aspect of the valleys in June, 1686." A History of the Waldenses, John
Pons, p. 44 As for the prisons, "For the
most part these were military fortresses, prisons, and old castles, where
the Waldensians were denied food and water and even straw for lying upon.
Decimated by sickness and cold, they also had to endure almost constant
pressure by the priests who promised freedom if they would renounce their
faith...." You Are My Witnesses, Giorgio
Tourn, p. 132
By November, Swiss
officials were finally able to negotiate an exile, but only half of the
original 8,500 were still alive. Some of these renounced their faith, but
the 2700 men, women, elderly and children who refused were released to
trek by foot across the snow-bound Alps in January, an ancient "trail of
tears", to Geneva where they were given temporary asylum.
It is recorded that, arriving in
Geneva, they were singing,
"They have fired Thy
sanctuary,
And have defiled the
same,
By casting down unto the
ground
The place where dwelt Thy
name.
Thus said they in their hearts, ‘Let
us
Destroy them out of
hand';
They burned up all the synagogues
Of God within the land." (From
Psalm 74)
The
Israel of the Alps, Alexis Muston, p. 473
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In August of 1689,
900 valiant Waldensian volunteers, led by Henri Arnaud, left the shores of
Lake Geneva, returned to recapture their sacred
Valleys.
On this Glorious Return, they
covered 128 miles in only 8 days, valiantly meeting and defeating much
resistance all the way. But desertions and losses reduced their number to
600, and they faced becoming demoralized. September 11, at Sibaud, on the
slopes above Bobbio Pellice, they lifted their hands, taking an oath of
loyalty to God and each other.
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The Oath of Sibaud |
"Lift up your hands toward heaven!
It is here that your
fathers have sworn before God
not
to betray Him,
And to return their altars to these great
sanctuaries
where they came to die
for the holy faith.
O God of Sinai; God of the first
Christians,
O God of the martyrs,
God of our fathers!
As Jacob in the past, you bring back your
own
amidst their inherited
fields.
Let us never forsake your law,
and fight with us who fight for
you!
"Lift up your hands to the
sky!
‘Tis here that your fathers
have sworn
before God not to
betray him,
Loudly addressing these aged rocks:
You have seen
our birth and you shall see our death!
The homeland is where your
heart is,
For us, it is in these valleys, around these altars,
devoted to the Lord,
Near these great honored burial
places!
Let us follow the footsteps of martyrs without
fear!
O God who died for us, let
us live for you! |
"Lift up your hands to the
sky!
It is here that your fathers
have sworn
before God not to
betray Him,
Raising these altars even before their thatched
huts,
There they find life and
there they want to die.
Let us always be united around these
altars
Which shall keep your
unique roofs! (stone slab)
May the immortal beams of the sacred
flame
shine on these ancient
rocks!
We swear to keep faithful to your
law!
Lord, be with us who want to
be yours!
"Waldensians, by these oaths,
Heaven blessed our
fathers,
And in these days is still ready to bless us.
Joining
our brothers' hands, let us loudly
proclaim:
‘At the altars of my
God,
So I want to live and to
die!"
I Canti delle Valle Valdesi, Lantelme, pp.
95-97
Alexis Muston, translated by Danielle
Seban
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 ALPS
- 2006
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TOURING THE REGION
