Now there came a time when Francis had wept so many tears for the sins of the world that his eyes became sore with a grievous malady, so that he could scarce see out of them.
And when he heard thereof, that great and wise Cardinal Ugolino, who kept tender watch over all the brethren, wrote to Francis, bidding him come to Rieti, where dwelt the best doctors for his disease.
So Francis set off for Rieti, but on his way thither, he turned aside to visit Saint Damian's, in order to give consolation to the Lady Clare and her sisters. But as he went thither, the glare of the sun smote his sore eyes very grievously, and they became swollen and inflamed, so that he could not see the light at all, and was in very great pain.
Then the Lady Clare besought him to rest awhile in the cool of the garden; and she made for him there a little cell of woven reeds, where he would be safe from sun and rain, and bade him sleep and gain strength for his journey.
But when darkness fell there came great torment upon Francis, for his eyes seemed a flame of fire and his head was racked with pain. Moreover, when he tried to sleep, the mice from the garden swarmed over him, so that they gave him no peace at all.
Then, because of his weakness and his infirmity, was Francis sorely tempted to curse the creatures as they ran over his body and nibbled at his hands and feet; and he was ready to weep with impatience and the discomfort of his lot. But then he remembered that the mice were his little sisters and brothers, and that they had come, perchance, to keep him company; he remembered also that all this discomfort was sent by the hand of One who loved him right well; and so, though he could not help but weep, he gave thanks to God, saying: "My Lord, I deserve all this and much more. And now, my dear Lord Jesus, who didst bear great agony of body that You might show mercy to us sinners, give grace to me. Your little sheep, that by no weakness, or agony, or sorrow, I may be parted from You."
And when he had said these words, there came to him a voice from Heaven, saying:
"Francis, answer Me. If you should know of a treasure more wonderful and beautiful than all the gold and precious stones in the whole world; and if you knew that this noble treasure should be earned by you by means of this malady of yours, would you not be truly glad and contented?"
And Francis made answer in his humility:
"Lord, I am not worthy of this precious treasure."
Then the Voice of God replied:
"Rejoice, Francis, for this is the treasure of eternal life which I am keeping for you; and this affliction is the means by which you shall gain it"
And at those words the heart of Francis was filled with joy so that he could have kissed the earth and sky for the great happiness they brought him; as for the little mice, he welcomed the touch of their tiny feet. And when the sun rose, filling all the world with the light of its glory, he could not keep silence, but sang aloud a song that was known henceforth as the "Canticle of Brother Sun."
This song was afterwards set to music and all the brothers learnt to sing it; for it is full of light and colour and warmth, even as the sun itself:
Be Thou blessed, O Lord, with all things created,
Especially my Lord and Brother the Sun,
For by his dawning Thou lightenest our darkness;
Beautiful is he, and radiant with mighty splendour
Of Thee, O Most High, he beareth the token.
Praised be Thou, O Lord, for our Sister Moon and the Stars
For that Thou madest them clear, precious and lovely.
Praised be Thou, O Lord, for our Brother the Wind,
For air and cloud and sunshine and every weather
Whereby Thou givest Thy creatures their food.
Praised be Thou, O Lord, for Sister Water,
Our helpmate, lowly and precious and pure.
Praised be Thou, O Lord, for our Sister the Earth,
That as a mother sustaineth and feedeth us.
And after its kind bringeth forth fruit
And grass and many-coloured flowers.
So, when the morning was come, and he had sung this song, Francis arose with great cheer, and having taken kindly farewell of the Lady Clare, set off for Rieti.
Now when Francis drew near to that city, a great multitude of citizens came forth to meet him; for by this time the fame of him had gone forth into all lands. And because of that, he would not enter by the high road, but turned aside into a little church that stood about two miles from the gates of the city, and the priest received him within. But when the people knew that, they ran together to the church to see him, and, pressing round about it, they trampled down the vineyard of the priest of that church and plucked the grapes, so that it was entirely spoilt.
Then the priest began to be very sorry, and to repent that he had received Francis into his church; for his living depended upon the grapes of his vineyard. And when Francis saw that his looks were downcast, he sent to ask him to come to him, and said:
"Dear Father, tell me, I pray, how many measures of wine did you get from this vineyard in the year that it brought forth most grapes?"
And the priest answered: "I got twelve measures that year."
Then Francis said: "I ask you, dear Father, to be patient with me and let me rest here for some days yet, since here, for the first time for long weeks, I have found repose. And let who will pluck the grapes of the vineyard for the love of God and of me, His poor little one; and if you will do this, I promise you, on the part of Christ Jesus , that every year it shall yield thee twenty measures of wine."
So the priest, trusting in his promise, gave up his vineyard to those who came to gaze upon Saint Francis. And many of these who came but to gaze, remained to listen to his words of love and penance, so that they became filled with divine wisdom.
But they ceased not to pluck the grapes of the vineyard, so that it was altogether stripped, and scarce a bunch of grapes could be found therein.
Now, when the time of vintage came, when the grapes are pressed and the juice becomes good wine, the priest of Rieti gathered the few poor clusters that had been overlooked by the multitude, and put them into the wine-press and trod them underfoot. And lo! when he had looked to find at most one poor measure, there came forth' twenty measures of the best wine, according to the promise of Francis.
- text taken from A Little Book of Saint Francis and His Brethren, by Ethel Mary Wilmot-Buxton