A Legend of the Gentian
Many
years ago the poor people of Hungary suffered from
a terrible sickness which had afflicted them for a long
time. Thousands of them had been stricken and many had
died, for nothing could be found to cure them or
relieve their sufferings in any way.
At last the people appealed to their good King Ladislaw
for help. Messenger after messenger was sent to beg him
to bring about some relief. But the good king could do
nothing, and he was obliged to send the messengers away
without help and without hope.
One day the king sat thinking about the needs of his
people. "What can I do for my people?" he asked himself
over and over again. "I have sent them away without
help and without hope. God alone knows what will help
them. He will give me a sign. My
arrow shall bring me the
message." And the good king prayed that divine guidance
would
direct an arrow shot into the air.
His Majesty shot the arrow and watched where it fell.
And, behold, it pierced the root of a gentian!
The king then sent his servants to gather many roots of
this plant and make from them a medicine for his
suffering people. And the cure was so wonderful that
from that day his people have called the gentian "The
Herb of King Ladislaw."
"Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,
And coloured with the heaven's own blue,
That openest when, the quiet light,
Succeeds the keen and frosty night."
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