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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:36 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:36 -0700 |
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diff --git a/10490-h/10490-h.htm b/10490-h/10490-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f12a30 --- /dev/null +++ b/10490-h/10490-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5330 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Golden Legend, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 12pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10490 ***</div> + +<h2>THE</h2> + +<h2>Golden Legend</h2> + +<h2>BY</h2> + +<h2>HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</h2> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<h2>THE GOLDEN LEGEND</h2> +<br> + +<h3>PROLOGUE.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>THE SPIRE OF STRASBURG CATHEDRAL.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<i>Night and storm.</i> LUCIFER, <i>with the Powers of the +Air, trying to tear down the Cross.</i><p><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> HASTEN! hasten!<br> +O ye spirits!<br> +From its station drag the ponderous<br> +Cross of iron, that to mock us<br> +Is uplifted high in air!<p></p> + + <i>Voices.</i> O, we cannot!<br> +For around it<br> +All the Saints and Guardian Angels<br> +Throng in legions to protect it;<br> +They defeat us everywhere!<p></p> + + <i>The Bells.</i> Laudo Deum verum<br> + Plebem voco!<br> + Congrego clerum!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Lower! lower!<br> +Hover downward!<br> +Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and<br> +Clashing, clanging, to the pavement<br> +Hurl them from their windy tower!<p></p> + + <i>Voices.</i> All thy thunders<br> +Here are harmless!<br> +For these bells have been anointed,<br> +And baptized with holy water!<br> +They defy our utmost power.<p></p> + + <i>The Bells.</i> Defunctos ploro!<br> + Pestem fugo!<br> + Festa decoro!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Shake the casements!<br> +Break the painted<br> +Panes that flame with gold and crimson!<br> +Scatter them like leaves of Autumn,<br> +Swept away before the blast!<p></p> + + <i>Voices.</i> O, we cannot!<br> +The Archangel<br> +Michael flames from every window,<br> +With the sword of fire that drove us<br> +Headlong, out of heaven, aghast!<p></p> + + <i>The Bells.</i> Funera plango!<br> + Fulgora frango!<br> + Sabbata pango!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Aim your lightnings<br> +At the oaken,<br> +Massive, iron-studded portals!<br> +Sack the house of God, and scatter<br> +Wide the ashes of the dead!<p></p> + + <i>Voices.</i> O, we cannot!<br> +The Apostles<br> +And the Martyrs, wrapped in mantles,<br> +Stand as wardens at the entrance,<br> +Stand as sentinels o'erhead!<p></p> + + <i>The Bells.</i> Excito lentos!<br> + Dissipo ventos!<br> + Paco cruentos!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Baffled! baffled!<br> +Inefficient,<br> +Craven spirits! leave this labor<br> +Unto Time, the great Destroyer!<br> +Come away, ere night is gone!<p></p> + + <i>Voices.</i> Onward! onward!<br> +With the night-wind,<br> +Over field and farm and forest,<br> +Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,<br> +Blighting all we breathe upon!<p></p> + + (<i>They sweep away. Organ and Gregorian Chant.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Choir.</i> Nocte surgentes<br> + Vig lemus omnes!<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>I.</h2> +<br> + +<H2>THE CASTLE OF VAUTSBERG ON THE RHINE.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>A chamber in a tower.</i> PRINCE HENRY, <i>sitting alone, +ill and restless.</i><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I cannot sleep! my fervid brain<br> +Calls up the vanished Past again,<br> +And throws its misty splendors deep<br> +Into the pallid realms of sleep!<br> +A breath from that far-distant shore<br> +Comes freshening ever more and more,<br> +And wafts o'er intervening seas<br> +Sweet odors from the Hesperides!<br> +A wind, that through the corridor<br> +Just stirs the curtain, and no more,<br> +And, touching the aeolian strings,<br> +Faints with the burden that it brings!<br> +Come back! ye friendships long departed!<br> +That like o'erflowing streamlets started,<br> +And now are dwindled, one by one,<br> +To stony channels in the sun!<br> +Come back! ye friends, whose lives are ended!<br> +Come back, with all that light attended,<br> +Which seemed to darken and decay<br> +When ye arose and went away!<br> +They come, the shapes of joy and woe,<br> +The airy crowds of long-ago,<br> +The dreams and fancies known of yore,<br> +That have been, and shall be no more.<br> +They change the cloisters of the night<br> +Into a garden of delight;<br> +They make the dark and dreary hours<br> +Open and blossom into flowers!<br> +I would not sleep! I love to be<br> +Again in their fair company;<br> +But ere my lips can bid them stay,<br> +They pass and vanish quite away!<p></p> + +Alas! our memories may retrace<br> +Each circumstance of time and place,<br> +Season and scene come back again,<br> +And outward things unchanged remain;<br> +The rest we cannot reinstate;<br> +Ourselves we cannot re-create,<br> +Nor set our souls to the same key<br> +Of the remembered harmony!<p></p> + +Rest! rest! O, give me rest and peace!<br> +The thought of life that ne'er shall cease<br> +Has something in it like despair,<br> +A weight I am too weak to bear!<br> +Sweeter to this afflicted breast<br> +The thought of never-ending rest!<br> +Sweeter the undisturbed and deep<br> +Tranquillity of endless sleep!<p></p> +<br> + +(<i>A flash of lightning, out of which</i> LUCIFER <i>appears, +in the garb of a travelling Physician.</i>)<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. All hail Prince Henry!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> (<i>starting</i>). Who is it speaks?<br> +Who and what are you?<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. One who seeks<br> +A moment's audience with the Prince.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. When came you in?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. A moment since.<br> +I found your study door unlocked,<br> +And thought you answered when I knocked.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. I did not hear you.<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. You heard the thunder;<br> +It was loud enough to waken the dead.<br> +And it is not a matter of special wonder<br> +That, when God is walking overhead,<br> +You should not have heard my feeble tread.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. What may your wish or purpose be?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Nothing or everything, as it pleases<br> +Your Highness. You behold in me<br> +Only a traveling Physician;<br> +One of the few who have a mission<br> +To cure incurable diseases,<br> +Or those that are called so.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. Can you bring<br> +The dead to life?<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Yes; very nearly.<br> +And, what is a wiser and better thing,<br> +Can keep the living from ever needing<br> +Such an unnatural, strange proceeding,<br> +By showing conclusively and clearly<br> +That death is a stupid blunder merely,<br> +And not a necessity of our lives.<br> +My being here is accidental;<br> +The storm, that against your casement drives,<br> +In the little village below waylaid me.<br> +And there I heard, with a secret delight,<br> +Of your maladies physical and mental,<br> +Which neither astonished nor dismayed me.<br> +And I hastened hither, though late in the night,<br> +To proffer my aid!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry (ironically)</i> For this you came!<br> +Ah, how can I ever hope to requite<br> +This honor from one so erudite?<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. The honor is mine, or will be when<br> +I have cured your disease.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. But not till then.<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. What is your illness?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. It has no name.<br> +A smouldering, dull, perpetual flame,<br> +As in a kiln, burns in my veins,<br> +Sending up vapors to the head,<br> +My heart has become a dull lagoon,<br> +Which a kind of leprosy drinks and drains;<br> +I am accounted as one who is dead,<br> +And, indeed, I think that I shall be soon.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i> And has Gordonius the Divine,<br> +In his famous Lily of Medicine,--<br> +I see the book lies open before you,--<br> +No remedy potent enough to restore you?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. None whatever!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i> The dead are dead,<br> +And their oracles dumb, when questioned<br> +Of the new diseases that human life<br> +Evolves in its progress, rank and rife.<br> +Consult the dead upon things that were,<br> +But the living only on things that are.<br> +Have you done this, by the appliance<br> +And aid of doctors?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. Ay, whole schools<br> +Of doctors, with their learned rules,<br> +But the case is quite beyond their science.<br> +Even the doctors of Salern<br> +Send me back word they can discern<br> +No cure for a malady like this,<br> +Save one which in its nature is<br> +Impossible, and cannot be!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i> That sounds oracular!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Unendurable!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i> What is their remedy?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> You shall see;<br> +Writ in this scroll is the mystery.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (reading).</i> "Not to be cured, yet not incurable!<br> +The only remedy that remains<br> +Is the blood that flows from a maiden's veins,<br> +Who of her own free will shall die,<br> +And give her life as the price of yours!"<br> +That is the strangest of all cures,<br> +And one, I think, you will never try;<br> +The prescription you may well put by,<br> +As something impossible to find<br> +Before the world itself shall end!<br> +And yet who knows? One cannot say<br> +That into some maiden's brain that kind<br> +Of madness will not find its way.<br> +Meanwhile permit me to recommend,<br> +As the matter admits of no delay,<br> +My wonderful Catholicon,<br> +Of very subtile and magical powers!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Purge with your nostrums and drugs infernal<br> +The spouts and gargoyles of these towers,<br> +Not me! My faith is utterly gone<br> +In every power but the Power Supernal!<br> +Pray tell me, of what school are you?<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Both of the Old and of the New!<br> +The school of Hermes Trismegistus,<br> +Who uttered his oracles sublime<br> +Before the Olympiads, in the dew<br> +Of the early dawn and dusk of Time,<br> +The reign of dateless old Hephaestus!<br> +As northward, from its Nubian springs,<br> +The Nile, forever new and old,<br> +Among the living and the dead,<br> +Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled;<br> +So, starting from its fountain-head<br> +Under the lotus-leaves of Isis,<br> +From the dead demigods of eld,<br> +Through long, unbroken lines of kings<br> +Its course the sacred art has held,<br> +Unchecked, unchanged by man's devices.<br> +This art the Arabian Geber taught,<br> +And in alembics, finely wrought,<br> +Distilling herbs and flowers, discovered<br> +The secret that so long had hovered<br> +Upon the misty verge of Truth,<br> +The Elixir of Perpetual Youth,<br> +Called Alcohol, in the Arab speech!<br> +Like him, this wondrous lore I teach!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> What! an adept?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Nor less, nor more!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I am a reader of such books,<br> +A lover of that mystic lore!<br> +With such a piercing glance it looks<br> +Into great Nature's open eye,<br> +And sees within it trembling lie<br> +The portrait of the Deity!<br> +And yet, alas! with all my pains,<br> +The secret and the mystery<br> +Have baffled and eluded me,<br> +Unseen the grand result remains!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (showing a flask).</i> Behold it here! this little flask<br> +Contains the wonderful quintessence,<br> +The perfect flower and efflorescence,<br> +Of all the knowledge man can ask!<br> +Hold it up thus against the light!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> How limpid, pure, and crystalline,<br> +How quick, and tremulous, and bright<br> +The little wavelets dance and shine,<br> +As were it the Water of Life in sooth!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> It is! It assuages every pain,<br> +Cures all disease, and gives again<br> +To age the swift delights of youth.<br> +Inhale its fragrance.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> It is sweet.<br> +A thousand different odors meet<br> +And mingle in its rare perfume,<br> +Such as the winds of summer waft<br> +At open windows through a room!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Will you not taste it?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Will one draught Suffice?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> If not, you can drink more.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Into this crystal goblet pour<br> +So much as safely I may drink.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (pouring).</i> Let not the quantity alarm you:<br> +You may drink all; it will not harm you.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I am as one who on the brink<br> +Of a dark river stands and sees<br> +The waters flow, the landscape dim<br> +Around him waver, wheel, and swim,<br> +And, ere he plunges, stops to think<br> +Into what whirlpools he may sink;<br> +One moment pauses, and no more,<br> +Then madly plunges from the shore!<br> +Headlong into the dark mysteries<br> +Of life and death I boldly leap,<br> +Nor fear the fateful current's sweep,<br> +Nor what in ambush lurks below!<br> +For death is better than disease!<p></p> + + (<i>An</i> ANGEL <i>with an aeolian harp hovers in the air</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Angel.</i> Woe! woe! eternal woe!<br> +Not only the whispered prayer<br> +Of love,<br> +But the imprecations of hate,<br> +Reverberate<br> +Forever and ever through the air<br> +Above!<br> +This fearful curse<br> +Shakes the great universe!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (disappearing).</i> Drink! drink!<br> +And thy soul shall sink<br> +Down into the dark abyss,<br> +Into the infinite abyss,<br> +From which no plummet nor rope<br> +Ever drew up the silver sand of hope!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry (drinking).</i> It is like a draught of fire!<br> +Through every vein<br> +I feel again<br> +The fever of youth, the soft desire;<br> +A rapture that is almost pain<br> +Throbs in my heart and fills my brain!<br> +O joy! O joy! I feel<br> +The band of steel<br> +That so long and heavily has pressed<br> +Upon my breast<br> +Uplifted, and the malediction<br> +Of my affliction<br> +Is taken from me, and my weary breast<br> +At length finds rest.<p></p> + + <i>The Angel.</i> It is but the rest of the fire, from which the air<br> + has been taken!<br> +It is but the rest of the sand, when the hour-glass is not shaken!<br> +It is but the rest of the tide between the ebb and the flow!<br> +It is but the rest of the wind between the flaws that blow!<br> +With fiendish laughter,<br> +Hereafter,<br> +This false physician<br> +Will mock thee in thy perdition.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Speak! speak!<br> +Who says that I am ill?<br> +I am not ill! I am not weak!<br> +The trance, the swoon, the dream, is o'er!<br> +I feel the chill of death no more!<br> +At length,<br> +I stand renewed in all my strength!<br> +Beneath me I can feel<br> +The great earth stagger and reel,<br> +As it the feet of a descending God<br> +Upon its surface trod,<br> +And like a pebble it rolled beneath his heel!<br> +This, O brave physician! this<br> +Is thy great Palingenesis!<p></p> + + (<i>Drinks again</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>The Angel.</i> Touch the goblet no more!<br> +It will make thy heart sore<br> +To its very core!<br> +Its perfume is the breath<br> +Of the Angel of Death,<br> +And the light that within it lies<br> +Is the flash of his evil eyes.<br> +Beware! O, beware!<br> +For sickness, sorrow, and care<br> +All are there!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry (sinking back).</i> O thou voice within my breast!<br> +Why entreat me, why upbraid me,<br> +When the steadfast tongues of truth<br> +And the flattering hopes of youth<br> +Have all deceived me and betrayed me?<br> +Give me, give me rest, O, rest!<br> +Golden visions wave and hover,<br> +Golden vapors, waters streaming,<br> +Landscapes moving, changing, gleaming!<br> +I am like a happy lover<br> +Who illumines life with dreaming!<br> +Brave physician! Rare physician!<br> +Well hast thou fulfilled thy mission!<p></p> + + (<i>His head falls On his book</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>The Angel (receding).</i> Alas! alas!<br> +Like a vapor the golden vision<br> +Shall fade and pass,<br> +And thou wilt find in thy heart again<br> +Only the blight of pain,<br> +And bitter, bitter, bitter contrition!<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<H2>COURT-YARD OF THE CASTLE.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +HUBERT <i>standing by the gateway.</i><p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> How sad the grand old castle looks!<br> +O'erhead, the unmolested rooks<br> +Upon the turret's windy top<br> +Sit, talking of the farmer's crop;<br> +Here in the court-yard springs the grass,<br> +So few are now the feet that pass;<br> +The stately peacocks, bolder grown,<br> +Come hopping down the steps of stone,<br> +As if the castle were their own;<br> +And I, the poor old seneschal,<br> +Haunt, like a ghost, the banquet-hall.<br> +Alas! the merry guests no more<br> +Crowd through the hospital door;<br> +No eyes with youth and passion shine,<br> +No cheeks glow redder than the wine;<br> +No song, no laugh, no jovial din<br> +Of drinking wassail to the pin;<br> +But all is silent, sad, and drear,<br> +And now the only sounds I hear<br> +Are the hoarse rooks upon the walls,<br> +And horses stamping in their stalls!<p></p> + + (<i>A horn sounds</i>.)<br><p></p> + +What ho! that merry, sudden blast<br> +Reminds me of the days long past!<br>< +And, as of old resounding, grate<br> +The heavy hinges of the gate,<br> +And, clattering loud, with iron clank,<br> +Down goes the sounding bridge of plank,<br> +As if it were in haste to greet<br> +The pressure of a traveler's feet!<p></p> + + (<i>Enter</i> WALTER <i>the Minnesinger</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> How now, my friend! This looks quite lonely!<br> +No banner flying from the walls,<br> +No pages and no seneschals,<br> +No wardens, and one porter only!<br> +Is it you, Hubert?<p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> Ah! Master Walter!<br><p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> Alas! how forms and faces alter!<br> +I did not know you. You look older!<br> +Your hair has grown much grayer and thinner,<br> +And you stoop a little in the shoulder!<p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> Alack! I am a poor old sinner,<br> +And, like these towers, begin to moulder;<br> +And you have been absent many a year!<p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> How is the Prince?<br><p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> He is not here;<br> +He has been ill: and now has fled.<p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> Speak it out frankly: say he's dead!<br> +Is it not so?<p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> No; if you please;<br> +A strange, mysterious disease<br> +Fell on him with a sudden blight.<br> +Whole hours together he would stand<br> +Upon the terrace, in a dream,<br> +Resting his head upon his hand,<br> +Best pleased when he was most alone,<br> +Like Saint John Nepomuck in stone,<br> +Looking down into a stream.<br> +In the Round Tower, night after night,<br> +He sat, and bleared his eyes with books;<br> +Until one morning we found him there<br> +Stretched on the floor, as if in a swoon<br> +He had fallen from his chair.<br> +We hardly recognized his sweet looks!<p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> Poor Prince!<br><p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> I think he might have mended;<br> +And he did mend; but very soon<br> +The Priests came flocking in, like rooks,<br> +With all their crosiers and their crooks,<br> +And so at last the matter ended.<p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> How did it end?<br><p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> Why, in Saint Rochus<br> +They made him stand, and wait his doom;<br> +And, as if he were condemned to the tomb,<br> +Began to mutter their hocus pocus.<br> +First, the Mass for the Dead they chaunted.<br> +Then three times laid upon his head<br> +A shovelful of church-yard clay,<br> +Saying to him, as he stood undaunted,<br> +"This is a sign that thou art dead,<br> +So in thy heart be penitent!"<br> +And forth from the chapel door he went<br> +Into disgrace and banishment,<br> +Clothed in a cloak of hodden gray,<br> +And bearing a wallet, and a bell,<br> +Whose sound should be a perpetual knell<br> +To keep all travelers away.<p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> O, horrible fate! Outcast, rejected,<br> +As one with pestilence infected!<p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> Then was the family tomb unsealed,<br> +And broken helmet, sword and shield,<br> +Buried together, in common wreck,<br> +As is the custom, when the last<br> +Of any princely house has passed,<br> +And thrice, as with a trumpet-blast,<br> +A herald shouted down the stair<br> +The words of warning and despair,--<br> +"O Hoheneck! O Hoheneck!"<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i>. Still in my soul that cry goes on,--<br> +Forever gone! forever gone!<br> +Ah, what a cruel sense of loss,<br> +Like a black shadow, would fall across<br> +The hearts of all, if he should die!<br> +His gracious presence upon earth<br> +Was as a fire upon a hearth;<br> +As pleasant songs, at morning sung,<br> +The words that dropped from his sweet tongue<br> +Strengthened our hearts; or, heard at night,<br> +Made all our slumbers soft and light.<br> +Where is he?<p></p> + + <i>Hubert.</i> In the Odenwald.<br> +Some of his tenants, unappalled<br> +By fear of death, or priestly word,--<br> +A holy family, that make<br> +Each meal a Supper of the Lord,--<br> +Have him beneath their watch and ward,<br> +For love of him, and Jesus' sake!<br> +Pray you come in. For why should I<br> +With outdoor hospitality<br> +My prince's friend thus entertain?<p></p> + + <i>Walter.</i> I would a moment here remain.<br> +But you, good Hubert, go before,<br> +Fill me a goblet of May-drink,<br> +As aromatic as the May<br> +From which it steals the breath away,<br> +And which he loved so well of yore;<br> +It is of him that I would think<br> +You shall attend me, when I call,<br> +In the ancestral banquet hall.<br> +Unseen companions, guests of air,<br> +You cannot wait on, will be there;<br> +They taste not food, they drink not wine,<br> +But their soft eyes look into mine,<br> +And their lips speak to me, and all<br> +The vast and shadowy banquet-hall<br> +Is full of looks and words divine!<p></p> + + (<i>Leaning over the parapet</i>.)<br><p></p> + +The day is done; and slowly from the scene<br> +The stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts,<br> +And puts them back into his golden quiver!<br> +Below me in the valley, deep and green<br> +As goblets are, from which in thirsty draughts<br> +We drink its wine, the swift and mantling river<br> +Flows on triumphant through these lovely regions,<br> +Etched with the shadows of its sombre margent,<br> +And soft, reflected clouds of gold and argent!<br> +Yes, there it flows, forever, broad and still,<br> +As when the vanguard of the Roman legions<br> +First saw it from the top of yonder hill!<br> +How beautiful it is! Fresh fields of wheat,<br> +Vineyard, and town, and tower with fluttering flag,<br> +The consecrated chapel on the crag,<br> +And the white hamlet gathered round its base,<br> +Like Mary sitting at her Saviour's feet,<br> +And looking up at his beloved face!<br> +O friend! O best of friends! Thy absence more<br> +Than the impending night darkens the landscape o'er!<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br> +<h2>II.</h2> + +<H2>A FARM IN THE ODENWALD</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>A garden; morning;</i> PRINCE HENRY <i>seated, with a +book</i>. ELSIE, <i>at a distance, gathering flowers.</i><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry (reading).</i> One morning, all alone,<br> +Out of his convent of gray stone,<br> +Into the forest older, darker, grayer,<br> +His lips moving as if in prayer,<br> +His head sunken upon his breast<br> +As in a dream of rest,<br> +Walked the Monk Felix. All about<br> +The broad, sweet sunshine lay without,<br> +Filling the summer air;<br> +And within the woodlands as he trod,<br> +The twilight was like the Truce of God<br> +With worldly woe and care;<br> +Under him lay the golden moss;<br> +And above him the boughs of hemlock-tree<br> +Waved, and made the sign of the cross,<br> +And whispered their Benedicites;<br> +And from the ground<br> +Rose an odor sweet and fragrant<br> +Of the wild flowers and the vagrant<br> +Vines that wandered,<br> +Seeking the sunshine, round and round.<br> +These he heeded not, but pondered<br> +On the volume in his hand,<br> +A volume of Saint Augustine;<br> +Wherein he read of the unseen<br> +Splendors of God's great town<br> +In the unknown land,<br> +And, with his eyes cast down<br> +In humility, he said:<br> +"I believe, O God,<br> +What herein I have read,<br> +But alas! I do not understand!"<p></p> + +And lo! he heard<br> +The sudden singing of a bird,<br> +A snow-white bird, that from a cloud<br> +Dropped down,<br> +And among the branches brown<br> +Sat singing<br> +So sweet, and clear, and loud,<br> +It seemed a thousand harp strings ringing.<br> +And the Monk Felix closed his book,<br> +And long, long,<br> +With rapturous look,<br> +He listened to the song,<br> +And hardly breathed or stirred,<br> +Until he saw, as in a vision,<br> +The land Elysian,<br> +And in the heavenly city heard<br> +Angelic feet<br> +Fall on the golden flagging of the street.<br> +And he would fain<br> +Have caught the wondrous bird,<br> +But strove in vain;<br> +For it flew away, away,<br> +Far over hill and dell,<br> +And instead of its sweet singing<br> +He heard the convent bell<br> +Suddenly in the silence ringing<br> +For the service of noonday.<br> +And he retraced<br> +His pathway homeward sadly and in haste.<p><p></p> + +In the convent there was a change!<br> +He looked for each well known face,<br> +But the faces were new and strange;<br> +New figures sat in the oaken stalls,<br> +New voices chaunted in the choir,<br> +Yet the place was the same place,<br> +The same dusky walls<br> +Of cold, gray stone,<br> +The same cloisters and belfry and spire.<p></p> + +A stranger and alone<br> +Among that brotherhood<br> +The Monk Felix stood<br> +"Forty years," said a Friar.<br> +"Have I been Prior<br> +Of this convent in the wood,<br> +But for that space<br> +Never have I beheld thy face!"<p></p> + +The heart of the Monk Felix fell:<br> +And he answered with submissive tone,<br> +"This morning, after the hour of Prime,<br> +I left my cell,<br> +And wandered forth alone,<br> +Listening all the time<br> +To the melodious singing<br> +Of a beautiful white bird,<br> +Until I heard<br> +The bells of the convent ringing<br> +Noon from their noisy towers,<br> +It was as if I dreamed;<br> +For what to me had seemed<br> +Moments only, had been hours!"<p></p> + +"Years!" said a voice close by.<br> +It was an aged monk who spoke,<br> +From a bench of oak<br> +Fastened against the wall;--<br> +He was the oldest monk of all.<br> +For a whole century<br> +Had he been there,<br> +Serving God in prayer,<br> +The meekest and humblest of his creatures.<br> +He remembered well the features<br> +Of Felix, and he said,<br> +Speaking distinct and slow:<br> +"One hundred years ago,<br> +When I was a novice in this place,<br> +There was here a monk, full of God's grace,<br> +Who bore the name<br> +Of Felix, and this man must be the same."<p></p> + +And straightway<br> +They brought forth to the light of day<br> +A volume old and brown,<br> +A huge tome, bound<br> +With brass and wild-boar's hide,<br> +Therein were written down<br> +The names of all who had died<br> +In the convent, since it was edified.<br> +And there they found,<br> +Just as the old monk said,<br> +That on a certain day and date,<br> +One hundred years before,<br> +Had gone forth from the convent gate<br> +The Monk Felix, and never more<br> +Had entered that sacred door.<br> +He had been counted among the dead!<br> +And they knew, at last,<br> +That, such had been the power<br> +Of that celestial and immortal song,<br> +A hundred years had passed,<br> +And had not seemed so long<br> +As a single hour!<p></p> + + (ELSIE <i>comes in with flowers.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Here are flowers for you,<br> +But they are not all for you.<br> +Some of them are for the Virgin<br> +And for Saint Cecilia.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> As thou standest there,<br> +Thou seemest to me like the angel<br> +That brought the immortal roses<br> +To Saint Cecilia's bridal chamber.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> But these will fade.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Themselves will fade,<br> +But not their memory,<br> +And memory has the power<br> +To re-create them from the dust.<br> +They remind me, too,<br> +Of martyred Dorothea,<br> +Who from celestial gardens sent<br> +Flowers as her witnesses<br> +To him who scoffed and doubted.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Do you know the story<br> +Of Christ and the Sultan's daughter?<br> +That is the prettiest legend of them all.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Then tell it to me.<br> +But first come hither.<br> +Lay the flowers down beside me.<br> +And put both thy hands in mine.<br> +Now tell me the story.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Early in the morning<br> +The Sultan's daughter<br> +Walked in her father's garden,<br> +Gathering the bright flowers,<br> +All full of dew.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Just as thou hast been doing<br> +This morning, dearest Elsie.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> And as she gathered them,<br> +She wondered more and more<br> +Who was the Master of the Flowers,<br> +And made them grow<br> +Out of the cold, dark earth.<br> +"In my heart," she said,<br> +"I love him; and for him<br> +Would leave my father's palace,<br> +To labor in his garden."<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Dear, innocent child!<br> +How sweetly thou recallest<br> +The long-forgotten legend,<br> +That in my early childhood<br> +My mother told me!<br> +Upon my brain<br> +It reappears once more,<br> +As a birth-mark on the forehead<br> +When a hand suddenly<br> +Is laid upon it, and removed!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> And at midnight,<br> +As she lay upon her bed,<br> +She heard a voice<br> +Call to her from the garden,<br> +And, looking forth from her window,<br> +She saw a beautiful youth<br> +Standing among the flowers.<br> +It was the Lord Jesus;<br> +And she went down to him,<br> +And opened the door for him;<br> +And he said to her, "O maiden!<br> +Thou hast thought of me with love,<br> +And for thy sake<br> +Out of my Father's kingdom<br> +Have I come hither:<br> +I am the Master of the Flowers.<br> +My garden is in Paradise,<br> +And if thou wilt go with me,<br> +Thy bridal garland<br> +Shall be of bright red flowers."<br> +And then he took from his finger<br> +A golden ring,<br> +And asked the Sultan's daughter<br> +If she would be his bride.<br> +And when she answered him with love,<br> +His wounds began to bleed,<br> +And she said to him,<br> +"O Love! how red thy heart is,<br> +And thy hands are full of roses,"<br> +"For thy sake," answered he,<br> +"For thy sake is my heart so red,<br> +For thee I bring these roses.<br> +I gathered them at the cross<br> +Whereon I died for thee!<br> +Come, for my Father calls.<br> +Thou art my elected bride!"<br> +And the Sultan's daughter<br> +Followed him to his Father's garden.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Wouldst thou have done so, Elsie?<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Yes, very gladly.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Then the Celestial Bridegroom<br> +Will come for thee also.<br> +Upon thy forehead he will place,<br> +Not his crown of thorns,<br> +But a crown of roses.<br> +In thy bridal chamber,<br> +Like Saint Cecilia,<br> +Thou shall hear sweet music,<br> +And breathe the fragrance<br> +Of flowers immortal!<br> +Go now and place these flowers<br> +Before her picture.<p></p> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<H2>A ROOM IN THE FARM-HOUSE.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Twilight.</i> URSULA <i>spinning.</i> GOTTLIEB <i>asleep in his +chair.</i><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Darker and darker! Hardly a glimmer<br> +Of light comes in at the window-pane;<br> +Or is it my eyes are growing dimmer?<br> +I cannot disentangle this skein,<br> +Nor wind it rightly upon the reel.<br> +Elsie!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb (starting)</i>. The stopping of thy wheel<br> +Has wakened me out of a pleasant dream.<br> +I thought I was sitting beside a stream,<br> +And heard the grinding of a mill,<br> +When suddenly the wheels stood still,<br> +And a voice cried "Elsie" in my ear!<br> +It startled me, it seemed so near.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> I was calling her: I want a light.<br> +I cannot see to spin my flax.<br> +Bring the lamp, Elsie. Dost thou hear?<p></p> + + <i>Elsie (within).</i> In a moment!<br><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Where are Bertha and Max?<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> They are sitting with Elsie at the door.<br> +She is telling them stories of the wood,<br> +And the Wolf, and Little Red Ridinghood.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb</i>. And where is the Prince?<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula</i>. In his room overhead;<br> +I heard him walking across the floor,<br> +As he always does, with a heavy tread.<p></p> + +(ELSIE <i>comes in with a lamp</i>. MAX <i>and</i> BERTHA <i>follow her; +and they all sing the Evening Song on the lighting of the lamps</i>.)<p></p> + + + EVENING SONG.<br> + + O gladsome light<br> + Of the Father Immortal,<br> + And of the celestial<br> + Sacred and blessed<br> + Jesus, our Saviour!<br><p></p> + + Now to the sunset<br> + Again hast thou brought us;<br> + And, seeing the evening<br> + Twilight, we bless thee,<br> + Praise thee, adore thee!<br><p></p> + + Father omnipotent!<br> + Son, the Life-giver!<br> + Spirit, the Comforter!<br> + Worthy at all times<br> + Of worship and wonder!<br><p></p> + + + <i>Prince Henry (at the door)</i>. Amen!<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula</i>. Who was it said Amen?<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i>. It was the Prince: he stood at the door,<br> +And listened a moment, as we chaunted<br> +The evening song. He is gone again.<br> +I have often seen him there before.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula</i>. Poor Prince!<br><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb</i>. I thought the house was haunted!<br> +Poor Prince, alas! and yet as mild<br> +And patient as the gentlest child!<p></p> + + <i>Max.</i> I love him because he is so good,<br> +And makes me such fine bows and arrows,<br> +To shoot at the robins and the sparrows,<br> +And the red squirrels in the wood!<p></p> + + <i>Bertha.</i> I love him, too!<br><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Ah, yes! we all<br> +Love him, from the bottom of our hearts;<br> +He gave us the farm, the house, and the grange,<br> +He gave us the horses and the carts,<br> +And the great oxen in the stall,<br> +The vineyard, and the forest range!<br> +We have nothing to give him but our love!<p></p> + + <i>Bertha.</i> Did he give us the beautiful stork above<br> +On the chimney-top, with its large, round nest?<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> No, not the stork; by God in heaven,<br> +As a blessing, the dear, white stork was given;<br> +But the Prince has given us all the rest.<br> +God bless him, and make him well again.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Would I could do something for his sake,<br> +Something to cure his sorrow and pain!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> That no one can; neither thou nor I,<br> +Nor any one else.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> And must he die?<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Yes; if the dear God does not take<br> +Pity upon him, in his distress,<br> +And work a miracle!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Or unless<br> +Some maiden, of her own accord,<br> +Offers her life for that of her lord,<br> +And is willing to die in his stead.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I will!<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Prithee, thou foolish child, be still!<br> +Thou shouldst not say what thou dost not mean!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I mean it truly!<br><p></p> + + <i>Max.</i> O father! this morning,<br> +Down by the mill, in the ravine,<br> +Hans killed a wolf, the very same<br> +That in the night to the sheepfold came,<br> +And ate up my lamb, that was left outside.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> I am glad he is dead. It will be a warning<br> +To the wolves in the forest, far and wide.<p></p> + + <i>Max.</i> And I am going to have his hide!<br><p></p> + + <i>Bertha.</i> I wonder if this is the wolf that ate<br> +Little Red Ridinghood!<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> O, no!<br> +That wolf was killed a long while ago.<br> +Come, children, it is growing late.<p></p> + + <i>Max.</i> Ah, how I wish I were a man,<br> +As stout as Hans is, and as strong!<br> +I would do nothing else, the whole day long,<br> +But just kill wolves.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Then go to bed,<br> +And grow as fast as a little boy can.<br> +Bertha is half asleep already.<br> +See how she nods her heavy head,<br> +And her sleepy feet are so unsteady<br> +She will hardly be able to creep upstairs.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Good-night, my children. Here's the light.<br> +And do not forget to say your prayers<br> +Before you sleep.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Good-night!<br><p></p> + + <i>Max and Bertha.</i> Good-night!<br><p></p> + + (<i>They go out with</i> ELSIE.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula, (spinning).</i> She is a strange and wayward child,<br> +That Elsie of ours. She looks so old,<br> +And thoughts and fancies weird and wild<br> +Seem of late to have taken hold<br> +Of her heart, that was once so docile and mild!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> She is like all girls.<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Ah no, forsooth!<br> +Unlike all I have ever seen.<br> +For she has visions and strange dreams,<br> +And in all her words and ways, she seems<br> +Much older than she is in truth.<br> +Who would think her but fourteen?<br> +And there has been of late such a change!<br> +My heart is heavy with fear and doubt<br> +That she may not live till the year is out.<br> +She is so strange,--so strange,--so strange!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> I am not troubled with any such fear!<br> +She will live and thrive for many a year.<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<H2>ELSIE'S CHAMBER.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Night.</i> ELSIE <i>praying.</i><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> My Redeemer and my Lord,<br> +I beseech thee, I entreat thee,<br> +Guide me in each act and word,<br> +That hereafter I may meet thee,<br> +Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning,<br> +With my lamp well trimmed and burning!<p></p> + +Interceding<br> +With these bleeding<br> +Wounds upon thy hands and side,<br> +For all who have lived and erred<br> +Thou hast suffered, thou hast died,<br> +Scourged, and mocked, and crucified,<br> +And in the grave hast thou been buried!<p></p> + +If my feeble prayer can reach thee,<br> +O my Saviour, I beseech thee,<br> +Even as thou hast died for me,<br> +More sincerely<br> +Let me follow where thou leadest,<br> +Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest,<br> +Die, if dying I may give<br> +Life to one who asks to live,<br> +And more nearly,<br> +Dying thus, resemble thee!<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<H2>THE CHAMBER OF GOTTLIEB AND URSULA.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Midnight.</i> ELSIE <i>standing by their bedside, weeping.</i><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> The wind is roaring; the rushing rain<br> +Is loud upon roof and window-pane,<br> +As if the Wild Huntsman of Rodenstein,<br> +Boding evil to me and mine,<br> +Were abroad to-night with his ghostly train!<br> +In the brief lulls of the tempest wild,<br> +The dogs howl in the yard; and hark!<br> +Some one is sobbing in the dark,<br> +Here in the chamber!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> It is I.<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Elsie! what ails thee, my poor child?<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I am disturbed and much distressed,<br> +In thinking our dear Prince must die,<br> +I cannot close mine eyes, nor rest.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> What wouldst thou? In the Power Divine<br> +His healing lies, not in our own;<br> +It is in the hand of God alone.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Nay, he has put it into mine,<br> +And into my heart!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Thy words are wild!<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> What dost thou mean? my child! my child!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> That for our dear Prince Henry's sake<br> +I will myself the offering make,<br> +And give my life to purchase his.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula</i> Am I still dreaming, or awake?<br> +Thou speakest carelessly of death,<br> +And yet thou knowest not what it is.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> 'T is the cessation of our breath.<br> +Silent and motionless we lie;<br> +And no one knoweth more than this.<br> +I saw our little Gertrude die,<br> +She left off breathing, and no more<br> +I smoothed the pillow beneath her head.<br> +She was more beautiful than before.<br> +Like violets faded were her eyes;<br> +By this we knew that she was dead.<br> +Through the open window looked the skies<br> +Into the chamber where she lay,<br> +And the wind was like the sound of wings,<br> +As if angels came to bear her away.<br> +Ah! when I saw and felt these things,<br> +I found it difficult to stay;<br> +I longed to die, as she had died,<br> +And go forth with her, side by side.<br> +The Saints are dead, the Martyrs dead,<br> +And Mary, and our Lord, and I<br> +Would follow in humility<br> +The way by them illumined!<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> My child! my child! thou must not die!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> Why should I live? Do I not know<br> +The life of woman is full of woe?<br> +Toiling on and on and on,<br> +With breaking heart, and tearful eyes,<br> +And silent lips, and in the soul<br> +The secret longings that arise,<br> +Which this world never satisfies!<br> +Some more, some less, but of the whole<br> +Not one quite happy, no, not one!<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> It is the malediction of Eve!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> In place of it, let me receive<br> +The benediction of Mary, then.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Ah, woe is me! Ah, woe is me!<br> +Most wretched am I among men!<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Alas! that I should live to see<br> +Thy death, beloved, and to stand<br> +Above thy grave! Ah, woe the day!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Thou wilt not see it. I shall lie<br> +Beneath the flowers of another land,<br> +For at Salerno, far away<br> +Over the mountains, over the sea,<br> +It is appointed me to die!<br> +And it will seem no more to thee<br> +Than if at the village on market-day<br> +I should a little longer stay<br> +Than I am used.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Even as thou sayest!<br> +And how my heart beats, when thou stayest!<br> +I cannot rest until my sight<br> +Is satisfied with seeing thee.<br> +What, then, if thou wert dead?<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb</i> Ah me!<br> +Of our old eyes thou art the light!<br> +The joy of our old hearts art thou!<br> +And wilt thou die?<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Not now! not now!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> Christ died for me, and shall not I<br> +Be willing for my Prince to die?<br> +You both are silent; you cannot speak.<br> +This said I, at our Saviour's feast,<br> +After confession, to the priest,<br> +And even he made no reply.<br> +Does he not warn us all to seek<br> +The happier, better land on high,<br> +Where flowers immortal never wither,<br> +And could he forbid me to go thither?<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> In God's own time, my heart's delight!<br> +When he shall call thee, not before!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I heard him call. When Christ ascended<br> +Triumphantly, from star to star,<br> +He left the gates of heaven ajar.<br> +I had a vision in the night,<br> +And saw him standing at the door<br> +Of his Father's mansion, vast and splendid,<br> +And beckoning to me from afar.<br> +I cannot stay!<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> She speaks almost<br> +As if it were the Holy Ghost<br> +Spake through her lips, and in her stead!<br> +What if this were of God?<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Ah, then<br> +Gainsay it dare we not.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Amen!<br> +Elsie! the words that thou hast said<br> +Are strange and new for us to hear,<br> +And fill our hearts with doubt and fear.<br> +Whether it be a dark temptation<br> +Of the Evil One, or God's inspiration,<br> +We in our blindness cannot say.<br> +We must think upon it, and pray;<br> +For evil and good in both resembles.<br> +If it be of God, his will be done!<br> +May he guard us from the Evil One!<br> +How hot thy hand is! how it trembles!<br> +Go to thy bed, and try to sleep.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Kiss me. Good-night; and do not weep!<br><p></p> + + (ELSIE <i>goes out.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Ah, what an awful thing is this!<br> +I almost shuddered at her kiss.<br> +As if a ghost had touched my cheek,<br> +I am so childish and so weak!<br> +As soon as I see the earliest gray<br> +Of morning glimmer in the east,<br> +I will go over to the priest,<br> +And hear what the good man has to say!<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<H2>A VILLAGE CHURCH.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>A woman kneeling at the confessional.</i><p></p> + + <i>The Parish Priest (from within)</i>. Go, sin no<br> +more! Thy penance o'er,<br> +A new and better life begin!<br> +God maketh thee forever free<br> +From the dominion of thy sin!<br> +Go, sin no more! He will restore<br> +The peace that filled thy heart before,<br> +And pardon thine iniquity!<p></p> + + (<i>The woman goes out. The Priest comes forth, and +walks slowly up and down the church</i>.)<br><p></p> + +O blessed Lord! how much I need<br> +Thy light to guide me on my way!<br> +So many hands, that, without heed,<br> +Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed!<br> +So many feet, that, day by day,<br> +Still wander from thy fold astray!<br> +Unless thou fill me with thy light,<br> +I cannot lead thy flock aright;<br> +Nor, without thy support, can bear<br> +The burden of so great a care,<br> +But am myself a castaway!<p></p> + + (<i>A pause</i>.)<br><p></p> + +The day is drawing to its close;<br> +And what good deeds, since first it rose,<br> +Have I presented, Lord, to thee,<br> +As offerings of my ministry?<br> +What wrong repressed, what right maintained<br> +What struggle passed, what victory gained,<br> +What good attempted and attained?<br> +Feeble, at best, is my endeavor!<br> +I see, but cannot reach, the height<br> +That lies forever in the light,<br> +And yet forever and forever,<br> +When seeming just within my grasp,<br> +I feel my feeble hands unclasp,<br> +And sink discouraged into night!<br> +For thine own purpose, thou hast sent<br> +The strife and the discouragement!<p></p> + + (<i>A pause</i>.)<br><p></p> + +Why stayest thou, Prince of Hoheneck?<br> +Why keep me pacing to and fro<br> +Amid these aisles of sacred gloom,<br> +Counting my footsteps as I go,<br> +And marking with each step a tomb?<br> +Why should the world for thee make room,<br> +And wait thy leisure and thy beck?<br> +Thou comest in the hope to hear<br> +Some word of comfort and of cheer.<br> +What can I say? I cannot give<br> +The counsel to do this and live;<br> +But rather, firmly to deny<br> +The tempter, though his power is strong,<br> +And, inaccessible to wrong,<br> +Still like a martyr live and die!<p></p> + + (<i>A pause</i>.)<br><p></p> + +The evening air grows dusk and brown;<br> +I must go forth into the town,<br> +To visit beds of pain and death,<br> +Of restless limbs, and quivering breath,<br> +And sorrowing hearts, and patient eyes<br> +That see, through tears, the sun go down,<br> +But never more shall see it rise.<br> +The poor in body and estate,<br> +The sick and the disconsolate.<br> +Must not on man's convenience wait.<p></p> + + (<i>Goes out. Enter</i> LUCIFER, <i>as a Priest</i>. LUCIFER, +<i>with a genuflexion, mocking</i>.)<br><p></p> + +This is the Black Pater-noster.<br> +God was my foster,<br> +He fostered me<br> +Under the book of the Palm-tree!<br> +St. Michael was my dame.<br> +He was born at Bethlehem,<br> +He was made of flesh and blood.<br> +God send me my right food,<br> +My right food, and shelter too,<br> +That I may to yon kirk go,<br> +To read upon yon sweet book<br> +Which the mighty God of heaven shook.<br> +Open, open, hell's gates!<br> +Shut, shut, heaven's gates!<br> +All the devils in the air<br> +The stronger be, that hear the Black Prayer!<p></p> + + (<i>Looking round the church</i>.)<br><p></p> + +What a darksome and dismal place!<br> +I wonder that any man has the face<br> +To call such a hole the House of the Lord,<br> +And the Gate of Heaven,--yet such is the word.<br> +Ceiling, and walls, and windows old,<br> +Covered with cobwebs, blackened with mould;<br> +Dust on the pulpit, dust on the stairs,<br> +Dust on the benches, and stalls, and chairs!<br> +The pulpit, from which such ponderous sermons<br> +Have fallen down on the brains of the Germans,<br> +With about as much real edification<br> +As if a great Bible, bound in lead,<br> +Had fallen, and struck them on the head;<br> +And I ought to remember that sensation!<br> +Here stands the holy water stoup!<br> +Holy-water it may be to many,<br> +But to me, the veriest Liquor Gehennae!<br> +It smells like a filthy fast day soup!<br> +Near it stands the box for the poor;<br> +With its iron padlock, safe and sure,<br> +I and the priest of the parish know<br> +Whither all these charities go;<br> +Therefore, to keep up the institution,<br> +I will add my little contribution!<p></p> + + (<i>He puts in money.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Underneath this mouldering tomb,<br> +With statue of stone, and scutcheon of brass,<br> +Slumbers a great lord of the village.<br> +All his life was riot and pillage,<br> +But at length, to escape the threatened doom<br> +Of the everlasting, penal fire,<br> +He died in the dress of a mendicant friar,<br> +And bartered his wealth for a daily mass.<br> +But all that afterward came to pass,<br> +And whether he finds it dull or pleasant,<br> +Is kept a secret for the present,<br> +At his own particular desire.<p></p> + +And here, in a corner of the wall,<br> +Shadowy, silent, apart from all,<br> +With its awful portal open wide,<br> +And its latticed windows on either side,<br> +And its step well worn by the bended knees<br> +Of one or two pious centuries,<br> +Stands the village confessional!<br> +Within it, as an honored guest,<br> +I will sit me down awhile and rest!<p></p> + + (<i>Seats himself in the confessional</i>.)<br><p></p> + +Here sits the priest, and faint and low,<br> +Like the sighing of an evening breeze,<br> +Comes through these painted lattices<br> +The ceaseless sound of human woe,<br> +Here, while her bosom aches and throbs<br> +With deep and agonizing sobs,<br> +That half are passion, half contrition,<br> +The luckless daughter of perdition<br> +Slowly confesses her secret shame!<br> +The time, the place, the lover's name!<br> +Here the grim murderer, with a groan,<br> +From his bruised conscience rolls the stone,<br> +Thinking that thus he can atone<br> +For ravages of sword and flame!<br> +Indeed, I marvel, and marvel greatly,<br> +How a priest can sit here so sedately,<br> +Reading, the whole year out and in,<br> +Naught but the catalogue of sin,<br> +And still keep any faith whatever<br> +In human virtue! Never! never!<p></p> + +I cannot repeat a thousandth part<br> +Of the horrors and crimes and sins and woes<br> +That arise, when with palpitating throes<br> +The graveyard in the human heart<br> +Gives up its dead, at the voice of the priest,<br> +As if he were an archangel, at least.<br> +It makes a peculiar atmosphere,<br> +This odor of earthly passions and crimes,<br> +Such as I like to breathe, at times,<br> +And such as often brings me here<br> +In the hottest and most pestilential season.<br> +To-day, I come for another reason;<br> +To foster and ripen an evil thought<br> +In a heart that is almost to madness wrought,<br> +And to make a murderer out of a prince,<br> +A sleight of hand I learned long since!<br> +He comes In the twilight he will not see<br> +the difference between his priest and me!<br> +In the same net was the mother caught!<p></p> + + (<i>Prince Henry entering and kneeling at the confessional.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Remorseful, penitent, and lowly,<br> +I come to crave, O Father holy,<br> +Thy benediction on my head.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. The benediction shall be said<br> +After confession, not before!<br> +'T is a God speed to the parting guest,<br> +Who stands already at the door,<br> +Sandalled with holiness, and dressed<br> +In garments pure from earthly stain.<br> +Meanwhile, hast thou searched well thy breast?<br> +Does the same madness fill thy brain?<br> +Or have thy passion and unrest<br> +Vanished forever from thy mind?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. By the same madness still made blind,<br> +By the same passion still possessed,<br> +I come again to the house of prayer,<br> +A man afflicted and distressed!<br> +As in a cloudy atmosphere,<br> +Through unseen sluices of the air,<br> +A sudden and impetuous wind<br> +Strikes the great forest white with fear,<br> +And every branch, and bough, and spray<br> +Points all its quivering leaves one way,<br> +And meadows of grass, and fields of grain,<br> +And the clouds above, and the slanting rain,<br> +And smoke from chimneys of the town,<br> +Yield themselves to it, and bow down,<br> +So does this dreadful purpose press<br> +Onward, with irresistible stress,<br> +And all my thoughts and faculties,<br> +Struck level by the strength of this,<br> +From their true inclination turn,<br> +And all stream forward to Salem!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Alas! we are but eddies of dust,<br> +Uplifted by the blast, and whirled<br> +Along the highway of the world<br> +A moment only, then to fall<br> +Back to a common level all,<br> +At the subsiding of the gust!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. O holy Father! pardon in me<br> +The oscillation of a mind<br> +Unsteadfast, and that cannot find<br> +Its centre of rest and harmony!<br> +For evermore before mine eyes<br> +This ghastly phantom flits and flies,<br> +And as a madman through a crowd,<br> +With frantic gestures and wild cries,<br> +It hurries onward, and aloud<br> +Repeats its awful prophecies!<br> +Weakness is wretchedness! To be strong<br> +Is to be happy! I am weak,<br> +And cannot find the good I seek,<br> +Because I feel and fear the wrong!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Be not alarmed! The Church is kind--<br> +And in her mercy and her meekness<br> +She meets half-way her children's weakness,<br> +Writes their transgressions in the dust!<br> +Though in the Decalogue we find<br> +The mandate written, "Thou shalt not kill!"<br> +Yet there are cases when we must.<br> +In war, for instance, or from scathe<br> +To guard and keep the one true Faith!<br> +We must look at the Decalogue in the light<br> +Of an ancient statute, that was meant<br> +For a mild and general application,<br> +To be understood with the reservation,<br> +That, in certain instances, the Right<br> +Must yield to the Expedient!<br> +Thou art a Prince. If thou shouldst die,<br> +What hearts and hopes would prostrate he!<br> +What noble deeds, what fair renown,<br> +Into the grave with thee go down!<br> +What acts of valor and courtesy<br> +Remain undone, and die with thee!<br> +Thou art the last of all thy race!<br> +With thee a noble name expires,<br> +And vanishes from the earth's face<br> +The glorious memory of thy sires!<br> +She is a peasant. In her veins<br> +Flows common and plebeian blood;<br> +It is such as daily and hourly stains<br> +The dust and the turf of battle plains,<br> +By vassals shed, in a crimson flood,<br> +Without reserve, and without reward,<br> +At the slightest summons of their lord!<br> +But thine is precious, the fore-appointed<br> +Blood of kings, of God's anointed!<br> +Moreover, what has the world in store<br> +For one like her, but tears and toil?<br> +Daughter of sorrow, serf of the soil,<br> +A peasant's child and a peasant's wife,<br> +And her soul within her sick and sore<br> +With the roughness and barrenness of life!<br> +I marvel not at the heart's recoil<br> +From a fate like this, in one so tender,<br> +Nor at its eagerness to surrender<br> +All the wretchedness, want, and woe<br> +That await it in this world below,<br> +For the unutterable splendor<br> +Of the world of rest beyond the skies.<br> +So the Church sanctions the sacrifice:<br> +Therefore inhale this healing balm,<br> +And breathe this fresh life into thine;<br> +Accept the comfort and the calm<br> +She offers, as a gift divine,<br> +Let her fall down and anoint thy feet<br> +With the ointment costly and most sweet<br> +Of her young blood, and thou shall live.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> And will the righteous Heaven forgive?<br> +No action, whether foul or fair,<br> +Is ever done, but it leaves somewhere<br> +A record, written by fingers ghostly,<br> +As a blessing or a curse, and mostly<br> +In the greater weakness or greater strength<br> +Of the acts which follow it, till at length<br> +The wrongs of ages are redressed,<br> +And the justice of God made manifest!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i> In ancient records it is stated<br> +That, whenever an evil deed is done,<br> +Another devil is created<br> +To scourge and torment the offending one!<br> +But evil is only good perverted,<br> +And Lucifer, the Bearer of Light,<br> +But an angel fallen and deserted,<br> +Thrust from his Father's house with a curse<br> +Into the black and endless night.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> If justice rules the universe,<br> +From the good actions of good men<br> +Angels of light should be begotten,<br> +And thus the balance restored again.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Yes; if the world were not so rotten,<br> +And so given over to the Devil!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> But this deed, is it good or evil?<br> +Have I thine absolution free<br> +To do it, and without restriction?<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Ay; and from whatsoever sin<br> +Lieth around it and within,<br> +From all crimes in which it may involve thee,<br> +I now release thee and absolve thee!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Give me thy holy benediction.<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> (<i>stretching forth his hand and muttering</i>),<br> + Maledictione perpetua<br> + Maledicat vos<br> + Pater eternus!<br><p></p> + +<i>The Angel</i> (<i>with the æolian harp</i>). Take heed! take heed!<br> +Noble art thou in thy birth,<br> +By the good and the great of earth<br> +Hast thou been taught!<br> +Be noble in every thought<br> +And in every deed!<br> +Let not the illusion of thy senses<br> +Betray thee to deadly offences.<br> +Be strong! be good! be pure!<br> +The right only shall endure,<br> +All things else are but false pretences!<br> +I entreat thee, I implore,<br> +Listen no more<br> +To the suggestions of an evil spirit,<br> +That even now is there,<br> +Making the foul seem fair,<br> +And selfishness itself a virtue and a merit!<p></p> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<H2>A ROOM IN THE FARM-HOUSE.</H2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + + <i>Gottlieb</i>. It is decided! For many days,<br> +And nights as many, we have had<br> +A nameless terror in our breast,<br> +Making us timid, and afraid<br> +Of God, and his mysterious ways!<br> +We have been sorrowful and sad;<br> +Much have we suffered, much have prayed<br> +That he would lead us as is best,<br> +And show us what his will required.<br> +It is decided; and we give<br> +Our child, O Prince, that you may live!<p></p> + + <i>Ursula</i>. It is of God. He has inspired<br> +This purpose in her; and through pain,<br> +Out of a world of sin and woe,<br> +He takes her to himself again.<br> +The mother's heart resists no longer;<br> +With the Angel of the Lord in vain<br> +It wrestled, for he was the stronger.<p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb</i>. As Abraham offered long ago<br> +His son unto the Lord, and even<br> +The Everlasting Father in heaven<br> +Gave his, as a lamb unto the slaughter,<br> +So do I offer up my daughter!<p></p> + + (URSULA <i>hides her face</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i>. My life is little,<br> +Only a cup of water,<br> +But pure and limpid.<br> +Take it, O my Prince!<br> +Let it refresh you,<br> +Let it restore you.<br> +It is given willingly,<br> +It is given freely;<br> +May God bless the gift!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> And the giver!<br><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Amen!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I accept it!<br><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> Where are the children?<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> They are already asleep.<br><p></p> + + <i>Gottlieb.</i> What if they were dead?<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<H2>IN THE GARDEN.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I have one thing to ask of you.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> What is it?<br> +It is already granted.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Promise me,<br> +When we are gone from here, and on our way<br> +Are journeying to Salerno, you will not,<br> +By word or deed, endeavor to dissuade me<br> +And turn me from my purpose, but remember<br> +That as a pilgrim to the Holy City<br> +Walks unmolested, and with thoughts of pardon<br> +Occupied wholly, so would I approach<br> +The gates of Heaven, in this great jubilee,<br> +With my petition, putting off from me<br> +All thoughts of earth, as shoes from off my feet.<br> +Promise me this.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Thy words fall from thy lips<br> +Like roses from the lips of Angelo: and angels<br> +Might stoop to pick them up!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Will you not promise?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> If ever we depart upon this journey,<br> +So long to one or both of us, I promise.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Shall we not go, then? Have you lifted me<br> +Into the air, only to hurl me back<br> +Wounded upon the ground? and offered me<br> +The waters of eternal life, to bid me<br> +Drink the polluted puddles of this world?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> O Elsie! what a lesson thou dost teach me!<br> +The life which is, and that which is to come,<br> +Suspended hang in such nice equipoise<br> +A breath disturbs the balance; and that scale<br> +In which we throw our hearts preponderates,<br> +And the other, like an empty one, flies up,<br> +And is accounted vanity and air!<br> +To me the thought of death is terrible,<br> +Having such hold on life. To thee it is not<br> +So much even as the lifting of a latch;<br> +Only a step into the open air<br> +Out of a tent already luminous<br> +With light that shines through its transparent walls!<br> +O pure in heart! from thy sweet dust shall grow<br> +Lilies, upon whose petals will be written<br> +"Ave Maria" in characters of gold!<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br> +<h2>III.</h2> + +<H2>A STREET IN STRASBURG.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Night.</i> PRINCE HENRY <i>wandering alone, wrapped in a cloak.</i><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Still is the night. The sound of feet<br> +Has died away from the empty street,<br> +And like an artisan, bending down<br> +His head on his anvil, the dark town<br> +Sleeps, with a slumber deep and sweet.<br> +Sleepless and restless, I alone,<br> +In the dusk and damp of these wails of stone,<br> +Wander and weep in my remorse!<p></p> + + <i>Crier of the dead (ringing a bell).</i> Wake! wake!<br> + All ye that sleep!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Hark! with what accents loud and hoarse<br> +This warder on the walls of death<br> +Sends forth the challenge of his brerth!<br> +I see the dead that sleep in the grave!<br> +They rise up and their garments wave,<br> +Dimly and spectral, as they rise,<br> +With the light of another world in their eyes!<p></p> + + <i>Crier of the dead.</i> Wake! wake!<br> + All ye that sleep!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Why for the dead, who are at rest?<br> +Pray for the living, in whose breast<br> +The struggle between right and wrong<br> +Is raging terrible and strong,<br> +As when good angels war with devils!<br> +This is the Master of the Revels,<br> +Who, at Life's flowing feast, proposes<br> +The health of absent friends, and pledges,<br> +Not in bright goblets crowned with roses,<br> +And tinkling as we touch their edges,<br> +But with his dismal, tinkling bell,<br> +That mocks and mimics their funeral knell!<p></p> + + <i>Crier of the dead.</i> Wake! wake!<br> + All ye that sleep!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Wake not, beloved! be thy sleep<br> +Silent as night is, and as deep!<br> +There walks a sentinel at thy gate<br> +Whose heart is heavy and desolate,<br> +And the heavings of whose bosom number<br> +The respirations of thy slumber,<br> +As if some strange, mysterious fate<br> +Had linked two hearts in one, and mine<br> +Went madly wheeling about thine,<br> +Only with wider and wilder sweep!<p></p> + + <i>Crier of the dead (at a distance).</i> Wake! wake!<br> + All ye that sleep!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br> + Pray for the Dead!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Lo! with what depth of blackness thrown<br> +Against the clouds, far up the skies,<br> +The walls of the cathedral rise,<br> +Like a mysterious grove of stone,<br> +With fitful lights and shadows bleeding,<br> +As from behind, the moon, ascending,<br> +Lights its dim aisles and paths unknown!<br> +The wind is rising; but the boughs<br> +Rise not and fall not with the wind<br> +That through their foliage sobs and soughs;<br> +Only the cloudy rack behind,<br> +Drifting onward, wild and ragged,<br> +Gives to each spire and buttress jagged<br> +A seeming motion undefined.<br> +Below on the square, an armed knight,<br> +Still as a statue and as white,<br> +Sits on his steed, and the moonbeams quiver<br> +Upon the points of his armor bright<br> +As on the ripples of a river.<br> +He lifts the visor from his cheek,<br> +And beckons, and makes as he would speak.<p></p> + + <i>Walter the Minnesinger</i> Friend! can you tell me where alight<br> +Thuringia's horsemen for the night?<br> +For I have lingered in the rear,<br> +And wander vainly up and down.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> I am a stranger in the town,<br> +As thou art, but the voice I hear<br> +Is not a stranger to mine ear.<br> +Thou art Walter of the Vogelweid!<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i> Thou hast guessed rightly; and thy name<br> +Is Henry of Hoheneck!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Ay, the same.<br><p></p> + + <i>Walter</i> (<i>embracing him</i>). Come closer, closer to my side!<br> +What brings thee hither? What potent charm<br> +Has drawn thee from thy German farm<br> +Into the old Alsatian city?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. A tale of wonder and of pity!<br> +A wretched man, almost by stealth<br> +Dragging my body to Salern,<br> +In the vain hope and search for health,<br> +And destined never to return.<br> +Already thou hast heard the rest<br> +But what brings thee, thus armed and dight<br> +In the equipments of a knight?<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i>. Dost thou not see upon my breast<br> +The cross of the Crusaders shine?<br> +My pathway leads to Palestine.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. Ah, would that way were also mine!<br> +O noble poet! thou whose heart<br> +Is like a nest of singing birds<br> +Rocked on the topmost bough of life,<br> +Wilt thou, too, from our sky depart,<br> +And in the clangor of the strife<br> +Mingle the music of thy words?<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i>. My hopes are high, my heart is proud,<br> +And like a trumpet long and loud,<br> +Thither my thoughts all clang and ring!<br> +My life is in my hand, and lo!<br> +I grasp and bend it as a bow,<br> +And shoot forth from its trembling string<br> +An arrow, that shall be, perchance,<br> +Like the arrow of the Israelite king<br> +Shot from the window toward the east,<br> +That of the Lord's deliverance!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. My life, alas! is what thou seest!<br> +O enviable fate! to be<br> +Strong, beautiful, and armed like thee<br> +With lyre and sword, with song and steel;<br> +A hand to smite, a heart to feel!<br> +Thy heart, thy hand, thy lyre, thy sword,<br> +Thou givest all unto thy Lord,<br> +While I, so mean and abject grown,<br> +Am thinking of myself alone.<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i>. Be patient: Time will reinstate<br> +Thy health and fortunes.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. 'T is too late!<br> +I cannot strive against my fate!<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i>. Come with me; for my steed is weary;<br> +Our journey has been long and dreary,<br> +And, dreaming of his stall, he dints<br> +With his impatient hoofs the flints.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> (<i>aside</i>). I am ashamed, in my disgrace,<br> +To look into that noble face!<br> +To-morrow, Walter, let it be.<p></p> + + <i>Walter</i>. To-morrow, at the dawn of day,<br> +I shall again be on my way<br> +Come with me to the hostelry,<br> +For I have many things to say.<br> +Our journey into Italy<br> +Perchance together we may make;<br> +Wilt thou not do it for my sake?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. A sick man's pace would but impede<br> +Thine eager and impatient speed.<br> +Besides, my pathway leads me round<br> +To Hirsehau, in the forest's bound,<br> +Where I assemble man and steed,<br> +And all things for my journey's need.<p></p> + + (<i>They go out</i>. LUCIFER, <i>flying over the city</i>.)<br><p></p> + +Sleep, sleep, O city! till the light<br> +Wakes you to sin and crime again,<br> +Whilst on your dreams, like dismal rain,<br> +I scatter downward through the night<br> +My maledictions dark and deep.<br> +I have more martyrs in your walls<br> +Than God has; and they cannot sleep;<br> +They are my bondsmen and my thralls;<br> +Their wretched lives are full of pain,<br> +Wild agonies of nerve and brain;<br> +And every heart-beat, every breath,<br> +Is a convulsion worse than death!<br> +Sleep, sleep, O city! though within<br> +The circuit of your walls there lies<br> +No habitation free from sin,<br> +And all its nameless miseries;<br> +The aching heart, the aching head,<br> +Grief for the living and the dead,<br> +And foul corruption of the time,<br> +Disease, distress, and want, and woe,<br> +And crimes, and passions that may grow<br> +Until they ripen into, crime!<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<H2>SQUARE IN FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Easter Sunday</i>. FRIAR CUTHBERT <i>preaching to the +crowd from a pulpit in the open air</i>. PRINCE +HENRY <i>and</i> ELSIE <i>crossing the square</i>.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. This is the day, when from the dead<br> +Our Lord arose; and everywhere,<br> +Out of their darkness and despair,<br> +Triumphant over fears and foes,<br> +The hearts of his disciples rose,<br> +When to the women, standing near,<br> +The Angel in shining vesture said,<br> +"The Lord is risen; he is not here!"<br> +And, mindful that the day is come,<br> +On all the hearths in Christendom<br> +The fires are quenched, to be again<br> +Rekindled from the sun, that high<br> +Is dancing in the cloudless sky.<br> +The churches are all decked with flowers.<br> +The salutations among men<br> +Are but the Angel's words divine,<br> +"Christ is arisen!" and the bells<br> +Catch the glad murmur, as it swells,<br> +And chaunt together in their towers.<br> +All hearts are glad; and free from care<br> +The faces of the people shine.<br> +See what a crowd is in the square,<br> +Gaily and gallantly arrayed!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i>. Let us go back; I am afraid!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. Nay, let us mount the church-steps here,<br> +Under the doorway's sacred shadow;<br> +We can see all things, and be freer<br> +From the crowd that madly heaves and presses!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> What a gay pageant! what bright dresses!<br> +It looks like a flower besprinkled meadow.<br> +What is that yonder on the square?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> A pulpit in the open air,<br> +And a Friar, who is preaching to the crowd<br> +With a voice so deep and clear and loud,<br> +That, if we listen, and give heed,<br> +His lowest words will reach the ear.<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert (gesticulating and cracking a postilion's whip)</i> What ho! good people! do you not hear?<br> +Dashing along at the top of his speed,<br> +Booted and spurred, on his jaded steed,<br> +A courier comes with words of cheer.<br> +Courier! what is the news, I pray?<br> +"Christ is arisen!" Whence come you? "From court."<br> +Then I do not believe it; you say it in sport.<p></p> + + (<i>Cracks his whip again.</i>)<br><p></p> + +There comes another, riding this way;<br> +We soon shall know what he has to say.<br> +Courier! what are the tidings to-day?<br> +"Christ is arisen!" Whence come you? "From town."<br> +Then I do not believe it; away with you, clown.<p></p> + + (<i>Cracks his whip more violently.</i>)<br><p></p> + +And here comes a third, who is spurring amain;<br> +What news do you bring, with your loose-hanging rein,<br> +Your spurs wet with blood, and your bridle with foam?<br> +"Christ is arisen!" Whence come you? "From Rome."<br> +Ah, now I believe. He is risen, indeed.<br> +Ride on with the news, at the top of your speed!<p></p> + + (<i>Great applause among the crowd.</i>)<br><p></p> + +To come back to my text! When the news was first spread<br> +That Christ was arisen indeed from the dead,<br> +Very great was the joy of the angels in heaven;<br> +And as great the dispute as to who should carry<br> +The tidings, thereof to the Virgin Mary,<br> +Pierced to the heart with sorrows seven.<br> +Old Father Adam was first to propose,<br> +As being the author of all our woes;<br> +But he was refused, for fear, said they,<br> +He would stop to eat apples on the way!<br> +Abel came next, but petitioned in vain,<br> +Because he might meet with his brother Cain!<br> +Noah, too, was refused, lest his weakness for wine<br> +Should delay him at every tavern sign;<br> +And John the Baptist could not get a vote,<br> +On account of his old fashioned, camel's-hair coat;<br> +And the Penitent Thief, who died on the cross,<br> +Was reminded that all his bones were broken!<br> +Till at last, when each in turn had spoken,<br> +The company being still at a loss,<br> +The Angel, who had rolled away the stone,<br> +Was sent to the sepulchre, all alone,<br> +And filled with glory that gloomy prison,<br> +And said to the Virgin, "The Lord is arisen!"<p></p> + + (<i>The Cathedral bells ring</i>.)<br><p></p> + +But hark! the bells are beginning to chime;<br> +And I feel that I am growing hoarse.<br> +I will put an end to my discourse,<br> +And leave the rest for some other time.<br> +For the bells themselves are the best of preachers;<br> +Their brazen lips are learned teachers,<br> +From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,<br> +Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,<br> +Shriller than trumpets under the Law,<br> +Now a sermon and now a prayer.<br> +The clangorous hammer is the tongue,<br> +This way, that way, beaten and swung,<br> +That from mouth of brass, as from Mouth of Gold,<br> +May be taught the Testaments, New and Old.<br> +And above it the great crossbeam of wood<br> +Representeth the Holy Rood,<br> +Upon which, like the bell, our hopes are hung.<br> +And the wheel wherewith it is swayed and rung<br> +Is the mind of man, that round and round<br> +Sways, and maketh the tongue to sound!<br> +And the rope, with its twisted cordage three,<br> +Denoteth the Scriptural Trinity<br> +Of Morals, and Symbols, and History;<br> +And the upward and downward motions show<br> +That we touch upon matters high and low;<br> +And the constant change and transmutation<br> +Of action and of contemplation,<br> +Downward, the Scripture brought from on high,<br> +Upward, exalted again to the sky;<br> +Downward, the literal interpretation,<br> +Upward, the Vision and Mystery!<p></p> + +And now, my hearers, to make an end,<br> +I have only one word more to say;<br> +In the church, in honor of Easter day,<br> +Will be represented a Miracle Play;<br> +And I hope you will all have the grace to attend.<br> +Christ bring us at last So his felicity!<br> +Pax vobiscum! et Benedicite!<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<H2>IN THE CATHEDRAL.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + + CHAUNT.<br> + Kyrie Eleison!<br> + Christe Eleison!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I am at home here in my Father's house!<br> +These paintings of the Saints upon the walls<br> +Have all familiar and benignant faces.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> The portraits of the family of God!<br> +Thine own hereafter shall be placed among them.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> How very grand it is and wonderful!<br> +Never have I beheld a church so splendid!<br> +Such columns, and such arches, and such windows,<br> +So many tombs and statues in the chapels,<br> +And under them so many confessionals.<br> +They must be for the rich. I should not like<br> +To tell my sins in such a church as this.<br> +Who built it?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> A great master of his craft,<br> +Erwin von Steinbach; but not he alone,<br> +For many generations labored with him.<br> +Children that came to see these Saints in stone,<br> +As day by day out of the blocks they rose,<br> +Grew old and died, and still the work went on,<br> +And on, and on, and is not yet completed.<br> +The generation that succeeds our own<br> +Perhaps may finish it. The architect<br> +Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,<br> +And with him toiled his children, and their lives<br> +Were builded, with his own, into the walls,<br> +As offerings unto God. You see that statue<br> +Fixing its joyous, but deep-wrinkled eyes<br> +Upon the Pillar of the Angels yonder.<br> +That is the image of the master, carved<br> +By the fair hand of his own child, Sabina.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> How beautiful is the column that he looks at!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> That, too, she sculptured. At the base of it<br> +Stand the Evangelists; above their heads<br> +Four Angels blowing upon marble trumpets,<br> +And over them the blessed Christ, surrounded<br> +By his attendant ministers, upholding<br> +The instruments of his passion.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> O my Lord!<br> +Would I could leave behind me upon earth<br> +Some monument to thy glory, such as this!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> A greater monument than this thou leavest<br> +In thine own life, all purity and love!<br> +See, too, the Rose, above the western portal<br> +Flamboyant with a thousand gorgeous colors,<br> +The perfect flower of Gothic loveliness!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> And, in the gallery, the long line of statues,<br> +Christ with his twelve Apostles watching us.<p></p> + + (<i>A</i> BISHOP <i>in armor, booted and spurred, passes with +his train.</i>)<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> But come away; we have not time to look.<br> +The crowd already fills the church, and yonder<br> +Upon a stage, a herald with a trumpet,<br> +Clad like The Angel Gabriel, proclaims<br> +The Mystery that will now be represented.<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<h2>THE NATIVITY.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>A MIRACLE PLAY.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h3>THE NATIVITY.</h3> + +<h3>INTROITUS.</h3> + + <i>Præco.</i> Come, good people, all and each,<br> +Come and listen to our speech!<br> +In your presence here I stand,<br> +With a trumpet in my hand,<br> +To announce the Easter Play,<br> +Which we represent to-day!<br> +First of all we shall rehearse,<br> +In our action and our verse,<br> +The Nativity of our Lord,<br> +As written in the old record<br> +Of the Protevangelion,<br> +So that he who reads may run!<p></p> + + (<i>Blows his trumpet.</i>)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<p>I. HEAVEN.</p> + + <i>Mercy</i> (<i>at the feet of God</i>). Have pity, Lord be not afraid<br> +To save mankind, whom thou hast made,<br> +Nor let the souls that were betrayed<br> + Perish eternally!<p></p> + + <i>Justice.</i> It cannot be, it must not be!<br> +When in the garden placed by thee,<br> +The fruit of the forbidden tree<br> + He ate, and he must die!<p></p> + + <i>Mercy.</i> Have pity, Lord! let penitence<br> +Atone for disobedience,<br> +Nor let the fruit of man's offence<br> + Be endless misery!<p></p> + + <i>Justice.</i> What penitence proportionate<br> +Can e'er be felt for sin so great?<br> +Of the forbidden fruit he ate,<br> + And damned must he be!<p></p> + + <i>God.</i> He shall be saved, if that within<br> +The bounds of earth one free from sin<br> +Be found, who for his kith and kin<br> + Will suffer martyrdom.<p></p> + + <i>The Four Virtues.</i> Lord! we have searched the world around,<br> +From centre to the utmost bound,<br> +But no such mortal can be found;<br> + Despairing, back we come.<p></p> + + <i>Wisdom.</i> No mortal, but a God made man,<br> +Can ever carry out this plan,<br> +Achieving what none other can,<br> + Salvation unto all!<p></p> + + <i>God.</i> Go, then, O my beloved Son;<br> +It can by thee alone be done;<br> +By thee the victory shall be won<br> + O'er Satan and the Fall!<p></p> + + (<i>Here the</i> ANGEL GABRIEL <i>shall leave Paradise and +fly toward the earth; the jaws of Hell open below, +and the Devils walk about, making a great noise.</i>)<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<p>II. MARY AT THE WELL.</p> + + <i>Mary.</i> Along the garden walk, and thence<br> +Through the wicket in the garden fence,<br> + I steal with quiet pace,<br> +My pitcher at the well to fill,<br> +That lies so deep and cool and still<br> + In this sequestered place.<br> +These sycamores keep guard around;<br> +I see no face, I hear no sound,<br> + Save babblings of the spring,<br> +And my companions, who within<br> +The threads of gold and scarlet spin,<br> + And at their labor sing.<p></p> + + <i>The Angel Gabriel.</i> Hail, Virgin Mary, full of grace!<br><p></p> + + (<i>Here</i> MARY <i>looketh around her, trembling, and +then saith:</i>)<p></p> + + <i>Mary.</i> Who is it speaketh in this place,<br> +With such a gentle voice?<p></p> + + <i>Gabriel.</i> The Lord of heaven is with thee now!<br> +Blessed among all women thou,<br> + Who art his holy choice!<p></p> + + <i>Mary</i> (setting down the pitcher). What can this mean?<br> +No one is near,<br> +And yet, such sacred words I hear,<br> + I almost fear to stay.<p></p> + + (<i>Here the</i> ANGEL, <i>appearing to her, shall say:</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Gabriel.</i> Fear not, O Mary! but believe!<br> +For thou, a Virgin, shalt conceive<br> + A child this very day.<p></p> + +Fear not, O Mary! from the sky<br> +The majesty of the Most High<br> + Shall overshadow thee!<p></p> + + <i>Mary.</i> Behold the handmaid of the Lord!<br> +According to thy holy word,<br> + So be it unto me!<p></p> + + (<i>Here the Devils shall again make a great noise, under the stage.</i>)<br> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>III. THE ANGELS OF THE SEVEN PLANETS,</p> + <i>bearing the Star of Bethlehem.</i><br><p></p> + + <i>The Angels.</i> The Angels of the Planets Seven<br> +Across the shining fields of heaven<br> + The natal star we bring!<br> +Dropping our sevenfold virtues down,<br> +As priceless jewels in the crown<br> + Of Christ, our new-born King.<p></p> + + <i>Raphael.</i> I am the Angel of the Sun,<br> +Whose flaming wheels began to run<br> + When God's almighty breath<br> +Said to the darkness and the Night,<br> +Let there be light! and there was light!<br> + I bring the gift of Faith.<p></p> + + <i>Gabriel.</i> I am the Angel of the Moon,<br> +Darkened, to be rekindled soon<br> + Beneath the azure cope!<br> +Nearest to earth, it is my ray<br> +That best illumes the midnight way.<br> + I bring the gift of Hope!<p></p> + + <i>Anael.</i> The Angel of the Star of Love,<br> +The Evening Star, that shines above<br> + The place where lovers be,<br> +Above all happy hearths and homes,<br> +On roofs of thatch, or golden domes,<br> + I give him Charity!<p></p> + + <i>Zobiachel.</i> The Planet Jupiter is mine!<br> +The mightiest star of all that shine,<br> + Except the sun alone!<br> +He is the High Priest of the Dove,<br> +And sends, from his great throne above,<br> + Justice, that shall atone!<p></p> + + <i>Michael.</i> The Planet Mercury, whose place<br> +Is nearest to the sun in space,<br> + Is my allotted sphere!<br> +And with celestial ardor swift<br> +I bear upon my hands the gift<br> + Of heavenly Prudence here!<p></p> + + <i>Uriel.</i> I am the Minister of Mars,<br> +The strongest star among the stars!<br> + My songs of power prelude<br> +The march and battle of man's life,<br> +And for the suffering and the strife,<br> + I give him Fortitude!<p></p> + + <i>Anachiel.</i> The Angel of the uttermost<br> +Of all the shining, heavenly host,<br> + From the far-off expanse<br> +Of the Saturnian, endless space<br> +I bring the last, the crowning grace,<br> + The gift of Temperance!<p></p> + + (<i>A sudden light shines from the windows of the stable in the village below.</i>)<br><p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>IV. THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST.</p> + +<i>The stable of the Inn. The</i> VIRGIN <i>and</i> CHILD. <i>Three Gypsy Kings,</i> GASPAR, MELCHIOR, <i>and</i> BELSHAZZAR, <i>shall come in.</i><br><p></p> + + <i>Gaspar.</i> Hail to thee, Jesus of Nazareth!<br> +Though in a manger thou drawest thy breath,<br> +Thou art greater than Life and Death,<br> + Greater than Joy or Woe!<br> +This cross upon the line of life<br> +Portendeth struggle, toil, and strife,<br> +And through a region with dangers rife<br> + In darkness shall thou go!<p></p> + + <i>Melchior.</i> Hail to thee, King of Jerusalem<br> +Though humbly born in Bethlehem,<br> +A sceptre and a diadem<br> + Await thy brow and hand!<br> +The sceptre is a simple reed,<br> +The crown will make thy temples bleed,<br> +And in thy hour of greatest need,<br> + Abashed thy subjects stand!<p></p> + + <i>Belshazzar</i>. Hail to thee, Christ of Christendom!<br> +O'er all the earth thy kingdom come!<br> +From distant Trebizond to Rome<br> + Thy name shall men adore!<br> +Peace and good-will among all men,<br> +The Virgin has returned again,<br> +Returned the old Saturnian reign<br> + And Golden Age once more.<p></p> + +<i>The Child Christ</i>. Jesus, the Son of God, am I,<br> +Born here to suffer and to die<br> +According to the prophecy,<br> + That other men may live!<p></p> + +<i>The Virgin</i>. And now these clothes, that wrapped him, take<br> +And keep them precious, for his sake;<br> +For benediction thus we make,<br> + Naught else have we to give.<p></p> + + (<i>She gives them swaddling-clothes and they depart</i>.)<br><p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>V. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.</p> +<br> + +<i>Here shall</i> JOSEPH <i>come in, leading an ass, on which +are seated</i> MARY <i>and the</i> CHILD.<p></p> + + <i>Mary</i>. Here will we rest us, under these<br> +Underhanging branches of the trees,<br> +Where robins chant their Litanies,<br> + And canticles of joy.<p></p> + + <i>Joseph</i>. My saddle-girths have given way<br> +With trudging through the heat to-day<br> +To you I think it is but play<br> + To ride and hold the boy.<p></p> + + <i>Mary</i>. Hark! how the robins shout and sing,<br> +As if to hail their infant King!<br> +I will alight at yonder spring<br> + To wash his little coat.<p></p> + + <i>Joseph</i>. And I will hobble well the ass,<br> +Lest, being loose upon the grass,<br> +He should escape; for, by the mass.<br> + He is nimble as a goat.<p></p> + + (<i>Here</i> MARY <i>shall alight and go to the spring.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Mary</i>. O Joseph! I am much afraid,<br> +For men are sleeping in the shade;<br> +I fear that we shall be waylaid,<br> + And robbed and beaten sore!<p></p> + + (<i>Here a band of robbers shall be seen sleeping, two of whom shall rise and come forward</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Dumachus</i>. Cock's soul! deliver up your gold!<br><p></p> + + <i>Joseph</i>. I pray you, Sirs, let go your hold!<br> +Of wealth I have no store.<p></p> + + <i>Dumachus</i>. Give up your money!<br><p></p> + + <i>Titus</i>. Prithee cease!<br> +Let these good people go in peace!<p></p> + + <i>Dumachus</i>. First let them pay for their release,<br> +And then go on their way.<p></p> + + <i>Titus</i>. These forty groats I give in fee,<br> +If thou wilt only silent be.<p></p> + + <i>Mary</i>. May God be merciful to thee<br> +Upon the Judgment Day!<p></p> + + <i>Jesus</i>. When thirty years shall have gone by,<br> +I at Jerusalem shall die,<br> +By Jewish hands exalted high<br> + On the accursed tree.<br> +Then on my right and my left side,<br> +These thieves shall both be crucified<br> +And Titus thenceforth shall abide<br> + In paradise with me.<p></p> + + (<i>Here a great rumor of trumpets and horses, like the noise of a king with his army, and the robbers shall take flight.</i>)<br> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>VI. THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS.</p> + + <i>King Herod.</i> Potz-tausend! Himmel-sacrament!<br> +Filled am I with great wonderment<br> + At this unwelcome news!<br> +Am I not Herod? Who shall dare<br> +My crown to take, my sceptre bear,<br> + As king among the Jews?<p></p> + + (<i>Here he shall stride up and down and flourish his sword.</i>)<br><p></p> + +What ho! I fain would drink a can<br> +Of the strong wine of Canaan!<br> + The wine of Helbon bring,<br> +I purchased at the Fair of Tyre,<br> +As red as blood, as hot as fire,<br> + And fit for any king!<p></p> + + (<i>He quaffs great goblets of wine.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Now at the window will I stand,<br> +While in the street the armed band<br> + The little children slay:<br> +The babe just born in Bethlehem<br> +Will surely slaughtered be with them,<br> + Nor live another day!<p></p> + + (<i>Here a voice of lamentation shall be heard in the street.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Rachel.</i> O wicked king! O cruel speed!<br> +To do this most unrighteous deed!<br> + My children all are slain!<p></p> + + <i>Herod.</i> Ho seneschal! another cup!<br> +With wine of Sorek fill it up!<br> + I would a bumper drain!<p></p> + + <i>Rahab.</i> May maledictions fall and blast<br> +Thyself and lineage, to the last<br> + Of all thy kith and kin!<p></p> + + <i>Herod.</i> Another goblet! quick! and stir<br> +Pomegranate juice and drops of myrrh<br> + And calamus therein!<p></p> + + <i>Soldiers (in the street)</i>. Give up thy child into our hands!<br> +It is King Herod who commands<br> + That he should thus be slain!<p></p> + + <i>The Nurse Medusa.</i> O monstrous men! What have ye done!<br> +It is King Herod's only son<br> + That ye have cleft in twain!<p></p> + + <i>Herod.</i> Ah, luckless day! What words of fear<br> +Are these that smite upon my ear<br> + With such a doleful sound!<br> +What torments rack my heart and head!<br> +Would I were dead! would I were dead,<br> + And buried in the ground!<p></p> + + (<i>He falls down and writhes as though eaten by worms. +Hell opens, and</i> SATAN <i>and</i> ASTAROTH <i>come forth, +and drag him down.</i>)<br><p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>VII. JESUS AT PLAY WITH HIS SCHOOLMATES.</p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> The shower is over. Let us play,<br> +And make some sparrows out of clay,<br> + Down by the river's side.<p></p> + + <i>Judas.</i> See, how the stream has overflowed<br> +Its banks, and o'er the meadow road<br> + Is spreading far and wide!<p></p> + + (<i>They draw water out of the river by channels, and +form little pools</i> JESUS <i>makes twelve sparrows of +clay, and the other boys do the same.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> Look! look! how prettily I make<br> +These little sparrows by the lake<br> + Bend down their necks and drink!<br> +Now will I make them sing and soar<br> +So far, they shall return no more<br> + Into this river's brink.<p></p> + + <i>Judas.</i> That canst thou not! They are but clay,<br> +They cannot sing, nor fly away<br> + Above the meadow lands!<p></p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> Fly, fly! ye sparrows! you are free!<br> +And while you live, remember me,<br> + Who made you with my hands.<p></p> + + (<i>Here</i> JESUS <i>shall clap his hands, and the sparrows + shall fly away, chirruping.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Judas.</i> Thou art a sorcerer, I know;<br> +Oft has my mother told me so,<br> + I will not play with thee!<p></p> + + (<i>He strikes</i> JESUS <i>on the right side.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> Ah, Judas! thou has smote my side,<br> +And when I shall be crucified,<br> + There shall I pierced be!<p></p> + + (<i>Here</i> JOSEPH <i>shall come in, and say:</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Joseph.</i> Ye wicked boys! why do ye play,<br> +And break the holy Sabbath day?<br> +What, think ye, will your mothers say<br> + To see you in such plight!<br> +In such a sweat and such a heat,<br> +With all that mud-upon your feet!<br> +There's not a beggar in the street<br> + Makes such a sorry sight!<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>VIII. THE VILLAGE SCHOOL.</p> + +<i>The</i> RABBI BEN ISRAEL, <i>with a long beard, sitting on + a high stool, with a rod in his hand.</i><br><p></p> + + <i>Rabbi.</i> I am the Rabbi Ben Israel,<br> +Throughout this village known full well,<br> +And, as my scholars all will tell,<br> + Learned in things divine;<br> +The Kabala and Talmud hoar<br> +Than all the prophets prize I more,<br> +For water is all Bible lore,<br> + But Mishna is strong wine.<p></p> + +My fame extends from West to East,<br> +And always, at the Purim feast,<br> +I am as drunk as any beast<br> + That wallows in his sty;<br> +The wine it so elateth me,<br> +That I no difference can see<br> +Between "Accursed Haman be!"<br> + And "Blessed be Mordecai!"<p></p> + +Come hither, Judas Iscariot.<br> +Say, if thy lesson thou hast got<br> +From the Rabbinical Book or not.<br> + Why howl the dogs at night?<p></p> + + <i>Judas.</i> In the Rabbinical Book, it saith<br> +The dogs howl, when with icy breath<br> +Great Sammaël, the Angel of Death,<br> + Takes through the town his flight!<p></p> + + <i>Rabbi.</i> Well, boy! now say, if thou art wise,<br> +When the Angel of Death, who is full of eyes,<br> +Comes where a sick man dying lies,<br> + What doth he to the wight?<p></p> + + <i>Judas.</i> He stands beside him, dark and tall,<br> +Holding a sword, from which doth fall<br> +Into his mouth a drop of gall,<br> + And so he turneth white.<p></p> + + <i>Rabbi.</i> And now, my Judas, say to me<br> +What the great Voices Four may be,<br> +That quite across the world do flee,<br> + And are not heard by men?<p></p> + + <i>Judas.</i> The Voice of the Sun in heaven's dome,<br> +The Voice of the Murmuring of Rome,<br> +The Voice of a Soul that goeth home,<br> + And the Angel of the Rain!<p></p> + + <i>Rabbi.</i> Well have ye answered every one<br> +Now little Jesus, the carpenter's son,<br> +Let us see how thy task is done.<br> + Canst thou thy letters say?<p></p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> Aleph.<br><p></p> + + <i>Rabbi.</i> What next? Do not stop yet!<br> +Go on with all the alphabet.<br> +Come, Aleph, Beth; dost thou forget?<br> + Cock's soul! thou'dst rather play!<p></p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> What Aleph means I fain would know,<br> +Before I any farther go!<p></p> + + <i>Rabbi.</i> O, by Saint Peter! wouldst thou so?<br> +Come hither, boy, to me.<br> +And surely as the letter Jod<br> +Once cried aloud, and spake to God,<br> +So surely shalt thou feel this rod,<br> + And punished shalt thou be!<p></p> + + (<i>Here</i> RABBI BEN ISRAEL <i>shall lift up his rod to strike</i> JESUS, <i>and his right arm shall be paralyzed.</i>)<br><p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br><br> +<p>IX. CROWNED WITH FLOWERS.</p> + +JESUS <i>sitting among his playmates, crowned with +flowers as their King.</i><p></p> + + <i>Boys.</i> We spread our garments on the ground'<br> +With fragrant flowers thy head is crowned,<br> +While like a guard we stand around,<br> + And hail thee as our King!<br> +Thou art the new King of the Jews!<br> +Nor let the passers-by refuse<br> +To bring that homage which men use<br> + To majesty to bring.<p></p> + + (<i>Here a traveller shall go by, and the boys shall lay hold of his garments and say:</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Boys.</i> Come hither! and all reverence pay<br> +Unto our monarch, crowned to-day!<br> +Then go rejoicing on your way,<br> + In all prosperity!<p></p> + + <i>Traveller.</i> Hail to the King of Bethlehem,<br> +Who weareth in his diadem<br> +The yellow crocus for the gem<br> + Of his authority!<p></p> + + (<i>He passes by; and others come in, bearing on a litter a sick child.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Boys.</i> Set down the litter and draw near!<br> +The King of Bethlehem is here!<br> +What ails the child, who seems to fear<br> + That we shall do him harm?<p></p> + + <i>The Bearers.</i> He climbed up to the robin's nest,<br> +And out there darted, from his rest,<br> +A serpent with a crimson crest,<br> + And stung him in the arm.<p></p> + + <i>Jesus.</i> Bring him to me, and let me feel<br> +The wounded place; my touch can heal<br> +The sting of serpents, and can steal<br> + The poison from the bite!<p></p> + + (<i>He touches the wound, and the boy begins to cry.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Cease to lament! I can foresee<br> +That thou hereafter known shalt be,<br> +Among the men who follow me,<br> + As Simon the Canaanite!<p></p> + + * * * * *<br><p></p> + + + EPILOGUE.<br> + +In the after part of the day<br> +Will be represented another play,<br> +Of the Passion of our Blessed Lord,<br> +Beginning directly after Nones!<br> +At the close of which we shall accord,<br> +By way of benison and reward,<br> +The sight of a holy Martyr's bones!<p></p> + + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"> +<h2>IV.</H2> + +<H2> THE ROAD HIRSCHAU.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 35%;"> + +PRINCE HENRY <i>and</i> ELSIE, <i>with their attendants, on +horseback.</i><br><br> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Onward and onward the highway runs<br> + to the distant city, impatiently bearing<br> +Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of<br> + hate, of doing and daring!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> This life of ours is a wild aeolian<br> + harp of many a joyous strain,<br> +But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail,<br> + as of souls in pain.<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart<br> + that aches and bleeds with the stigma<br> +Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can<br> + comprehend its dark enigma.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Man is selfish, and seeketh pleasure<br> + with little care of what may betide;<br> +Else why am I travelling here beside thee, a demon<br> + that rides by an angel's side?<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> All the hedges are white with dust, and<br> + the great dog under the creaking wain<br> +Hangs his head in the lazy heat, while onward the<br> + horses toil and strain<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Now they stop at the wayside inn,<br> + and the wagoner laughs with the landlord's daughter,<br> +While out of the dripping trough the horses distend<br> + their leathern sides with water.<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> All through life there are wayside inns,<br> + where man may refresh his soul with love;<br> +Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets fed<br> + by springs from above.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Yonder, where rises the cross of<br> + stone, our journey along the highway ends,<br> +And over the fields, by a bridle path, down into the<br> + broad green valley descends.<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I am not sorry to leave behind the beaten<br> + road with its dust and heat;<br> +The air will be sweeter far, and the turf will be softer<br> + under our horses' feet.<br><p></p> + + (<i>They turn down a green lane.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Sweet is the air with the budding haws,<br> + and the valley stretching for miles below<br> +Is white with blossoming cheery trees, as if just covered<br> + with lightest snow.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Over our heads a white cascade is<br> + gleaming against the distant hill;<br> +We cannot hear it, nor see it move, but it hangs like<br> + a banner when winds are still.<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Damp and cool is this deep ravine, and<br> + cool the sound of the brook by our side!<br> +What is this castle that rises above us, and lords it<br> + over a land so wide?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> It is the home of the Counts of<br> + Calva; well have I known these scenes of old,<br> +Well I remember each tower and turret, remember the<br> + brooklet, the wood, and the wold.<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Hark! from the little village below us the<br> + bells of the church are ringing for rain!<br> +Priests and peasants in long procession come forth<br> + and kneel on the arid plain.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> They have not long to wait, for I<br> + see in the south uprising a little cloud,<br> +That before the sun shall be set will cover the sky<br> + above us as with a shroud.<br><p></p> + + (<i>They pass on.</i>)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE CONVENT OF HIRSCHAU IN THE +BLACK FOREST.</H2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>The Convent cellar.</i> FRIAR CLAUS <i>comes in with a +light and a basket of empty flagons.</i><p></p> + + <i>Friar Claus.</i> I always enter this sacred place<br> +With a thoughtful, solemn, and reverent pace,<br> +Pausing long enough on each stair<br> +To breathe an ejaculatory prayer,<br> +And a benediction on the vines<br> +That produce these various sorts of wines!<p></p> + +For my part, I am well content<br> +That we have got through with the tedious Lent!<br> +Fasting is all very well for those<br> +Who have to contend with invisible foes;<br> +But I am quite sure it does not agree<br> +With a quiet, peaceable man like me,<br> +Who am not of that nervous and meagre kind<br> +That are always distressed in body and mind!<br> +And at times it really does me good<br> +To come down among this brotherhood,<br> +Dwelling forever under ground,<br> +Silent, contemplative, round and sound;<br> +Each one old, and brown with mould,<br> +But filled to the lips with the ardor of youth,<br> +With the latent power and love of truth,<br> +And with virtues fervent and manifold.<p></p> + +I have heard it said, that at Easter-tide,<br> +When buds are swelling on every side,<br> +And the sap begins to move in the vine.<br> +Then in all the cellars, far and wide,<br> +The oldest, as well as the newest, wine<br> +Begins to stir itself, and ferment,<br> +With a kind of revolt and discontent<br> +At being so long in darkness pent,<br> +And fain would burst from its sombre tun<br> +To bask on the hillside in the sun;<br> +As in the bosom of us poor friars,<br> +The tumult of half-subdued desires<br> +For the world that we have left behind<br> +Disturbs at times all peace of mind!<br> +And now that we have lived through Lent,<br> +My duty it is, as often before,<br> +To open awhile the prison-door,<br> +And give these restless spirits vent.<p></p> + +Now here is a cask that stands alone,<br> +And has stood a hundred years or more,<br> +Its beard of cobwebs, long and hoar,<br> +Trailing and sweeping along the floor,<br> +Like Barbarossa, who sits in his cave,<br> +Taciturn, sombre, sedate, and grave,<br> +Till his beard has grown through the table of stone!<br> +It is of the quick and not of the dead!<br> +In its veins the blood is hot and red,<br> +And a heart still beats in those ribs of oak<br> +That time may have tamed, but has not broke;<br> +It comes from Bacharach on the Rhine,<br> +Is one of the three best kinds of wine,<br> +And costs some hundred florins the ohm;<br> +But that I do not consider dear,<br> +When I remember that every year<br> +Four butts are sent to the Pope of Rome.<br> +And whenever a goblet thereof I drain,<br> +The old rhyme keeps running in my brain:<p></p> + + At Bacharach on the Rhine,<br> + At Hochheim on the Main,<br> + And at Würzburg on the Stein,<br> + Grow the three best kinds of wine!<br><p></p> + +They are all good wines, and better far<br> +Than those of the Neckar, or those of the Ahr<br> +In particular, Würzburg well may boast<br> +Of its blessed wine of the Holy Ghost,<br> +Which of all wines I like the most.<br> +This I shall draw for the Abbot's drinking,<br> +Who seems to be much of my way of thinking.<p></p> + + (<i>Fills a flagon.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Ah! how the streamlet laughs and sings!<br> +What a delicious fragrance springs<br> +From the deep flagon, while it fills,<br> +As of hyacinths and daffodils!<br> +Between this cask and the Abbot's lips<br> +Many have been the sips and slips;<br> +Many have been the draughts of wine,<br> +On their way to his, that have stopped at mine;<br> +And many a time my soul has hankered<br> +For a deep draught out of his silver tankard,<br> +When it should have been busy with other affairs,<br> +Less with its longings and more with its prayers.<br> +But now there is no such awkward condition,<br> +No danger of death and eternal perdition;<br> +So here's to the Abbot and Brothers all,<br> +Who dwell in this convent of Peter and Paul!<p></p> + + (<i>He drinks.</i>)<br><p></p> + +O cordial delicious! O soother of pain!<br> +It flashes like sunshine into my brain!<br> +A benison rest on the Bishop who sends<br> +Such a fudder of wine as this to his friends!<p></p> + +And now a flagon for such as may ask<br> +A draught from the noble Bacharach cask,<br> +And I will be gone, though I know full well<br> +The cellar's a cheerfuller place than the cell.<br> +Behold where he stands, all sound and good,<br> +Brown and old in his oaken hood;<br> +Silent he seems externally<br> +As any Carthusian monk may be;<br> +But within, what a spirit of deep unrest!<br> +What a seething and simmering in his breast!<br> +As if the heaving of his great heart<br> +Would burst his belt of oak apart!<br> +Let me unloose this button of wood,<br> +And quiet a little his turbulent mood.<p></p> + + (<i>Sets it running.</i>)<br><p></p> + +See! how its currents gleam and shine,<br> +As if they had caught the purple hues<br> +Of autumn sunsets on the Rhine,<br> +Descending and mingling with the dews;<br> +Or as if the grapes were stained with the blood<br> +Of the innocent boy, who, some years back,<br> +Was taken and crucified by the Jews,<br> +In that ancient town of Bacharach;<br> +Perdition upon those infidel Jews,<br> +In that ancient town of Bacharach!<br> +The beautiful town, that gives us wine<br> +With the fragrant odor of Muscadine!<br> +I should deem it wrong to let this pass<br> +Without first touching my lips to the glass,<br> +For here in the midst of the current I stand,<br> +Like the stone Pfalz in the midst of the river<br> +Taking toll upon either hand,<br> +And much more grateful to the giver.<p></p> + + (<i>He drinks.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Here, now, is a very inferior kind,<br> +Such as in any town you may find,<br> +Such as one might imagine would suit<br> +The rascal who drank wine out of a boot,<br> +And, after all, it was not a crime,<br> +For he won thereby Dorf Hüffelsheim.<br> +A jolly old toper! who at a pull<br> +Could drink a postilion's jack boot full,<br> +And ask with a laugh, when that was done,<br> +If the fellow had left the other one!<br> +This wine is as good as we can afford<br> +To the friars, who sit at the lower board,<br> +And cannot distinguish bad from good,<br> +And are far better off than if they could,<br> +Being rather the rude disciples of beer<br> +Than of anything more refined and dear!<p></p> + + (<i>Fills the other flagon and departs.</i>)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE SCRIPTORIUM.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +FRIAR PACIFICUS <i>transcribing and illuminating.</i><p></p> + + <i>Friar Pacificus</i> It is growing dark! Yet one line more,<br> +And then my work for today is o'er.<br> +I come again to the name of the Lord!<br> +Ere I that awful name record,<br> +That is spoken so lightly among men,<br> +Let me pause awhile, and wash my pen;<br> +Pure from blemish and blot must it be<br> +When it writes that word of mystery!<p></p> + +Thus have I labored on and on,<br> +Nearly through the Gospel of John.<br> +Can it be that from the lips<br> +Of this same gentle Evangelist,<br> +That Christ himself perhaps has kissed,<br> +Came the dread Apocalypse!<br> +It has a very awful look,<br> +As it stands there at the end of the book,<br> +Like the sun in an eclipse.<br> +Ah me! when I think of that vision divine,<br> +Think of writing it, line by line,<br> +I stand in awe of the terrible curse,<br> +Like the trump of doom, in the closing verse!<br> +God forgive me! if ever I<br> +Take aught from the book of that Prophecy,<br> +Lest my part too should be taken away<br> +From the Book of Life on the Judgment Day.<p></p> + +This is well written, though I say it!<br> +I should not be afraid to display it,<br> +In open day, on the selfsame shelf<br> +With the writings of St Thecla herself,<br> +Or of Theodosius, who of old<br> +Wrote the Gospels in letters of gold!<br> +That goodly folio standing yonder,<br> +Without a single blot or blunder,<br> +Would not bear away the palm from mine,<br> +If we should compare them line for line.<p></p> + +There, now, is an initial letter!<br> +King René himself never made a better!<br> +Finished down to the leaf and the snail,<br> +Down to the eyes on the peacock's tail!<br> +And now, as I turn the volume over,<br> +And see what lies between cover and cover,<br> +What treasures of art these pages hold,<br> +All ablaze with crimson and gold,<br> +God forgive me! I seem to feel<br> +A certain satisfaction steal<br> +Into my heart, and into my brain,<br> +As if my talent had not lain<br> +Wrapped in a napkin, and all in vain.<br> +Yes, I might almost say to the Lord,<br> +Here is a copy of thy Word,<br> +Written out with much toil and pain;<br> +Take it, O Lord, and let it be<br> +As something I have done for thee!<p></p> + + (<i>He looks from the window.</i>)<br><p></p> + +How sweet the air is! How fair the scene!<br> +I wish I had as lovely a green<br> +To paint my landscapes and my leaves!<br> +How the swallows twitter under the eaves!<br> +There, now, there is one in her nest;<br> +I can just catch a glimpse of her head and breast,<br> +And will sketch her thus, in her quiet nook,<br> +In the margin of my Gospel book.<p></p> + + (<i>He makes a sketch.</i>)<br><p></p> + +I can see no more. Through the valley yonder<br> +A shower is passing; I hear the thunder<br> +Mutter its curses in the air,<br> +The Devil's own and only prayer!<br> +The dusty road is brown with rain,<br> +And speeding on with might and main,<br> +Hitherward rides a gallant train.<br> +They do not parley, they cannot wait,<br> +But hurry in at the convent gate.<br> +What a fair lady! and beside her<br> +What a handsome, graceful, noble rider!<br> +Now she gives him her hand to alight;<br> +They will beg a shelter for the night.<br> +I will go down to the corridor,<br> +And try to see that face once more;<br> +It will do for the face of some beautiful Saint,<br> +Or for one of the Maries I shall paint.<p></p> + + (<i>Goes out.</i>)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE CLOISTERS.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>The</i> ABBOT ERNESTUS <i>pacing to and fro.</i><p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> Slowly, slowly up the wall<br> +Steals the sunshine, steals the shade;<br> +Evening damps begin to fall,<br> +Evening shadows are displayed.<br> +Round me, o'er me, everywhere,<br> +All the sky is grand with clouds,<br> +And athwart the evening air<br> +Wheel the swallows home in crowds.<br> +Shafts of sunshine from the west<br> +Paint the dusky windows red;<br> +Darker shadows, deeper rest,<br> +Underneath and overhead.<br> +Darker, darker, and more wan,<br> +In my breast the shadows fall;<br> +Upward steals the life of man,<br> +As the sunshine from the wall.<br> +From the wall into the sky,<br> +From the roof along the spire;<br> +Ah, the souls of those that die<br> +Are but sunbeams lifted higher.<p></p> + + (<i>Enter</i> PRINCE HENRY.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Christ is arisen!<br><p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> Amen! he is arisen!<br> +His peace be with you!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Here it reigns forever!<br> +The peace of God, that passeth understanding,<br> +Reigns in these cloisters and these corridors,<br> +Are you Ernestus, Abbot of the convent?<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> I am.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> And I Prince Henry of Hoheneck,<br> +Who crave your hospitality to-night.<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> You are thrice welcome to our humble walls.<br> +You do us honor; and we shall requite it,<br> +I fear, but poorly, entertaining you<br> +With Paschal eggs, and our poor convent wine,<br> +The remnants of our Easter holidays.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> How fares it with the holy monks of Hirschau?<br> +Are all things well with them?<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> All things are well.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> A noble convent! I have known it long<br> +By the report of travellers. I now see<br> +Their commendations lag behind the truth.<br> +You lie here in the valley of the Nagold<br> +As in a nest: and the still river, gliding<br> +Along its bed, is like an admonition<br> +How all things pass. Your lands are rich and ample,<br> +And your revenues large. God's benediction<br> +Rests on your convent.<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> By our charities<br> +We strive to merit it. Our Lord and Master,<br> +When he departed, left us in his will,<br> +As our best legacy on earth, the poor!<br> +These we have always with us; had we not,<br> +Our hearts would grow as hard as are these stones.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> If I remember right, the Counts of Calva<br> +Founded your convent.<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> Even as you say.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> And, if I err not, it is very old.<br><p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> Within these cloisters lie already buried<br> +Twelve holy Abbots. Underneath the flags<br> +On which we stand, the Abbot William lies,<br> +Of blessed memory.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> And whose tomb is that,<br> +Which bears the brass escutcheon?<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> A benefactor's.<br> +Conrad, a Count of Calva, he who stood<br> +Godfather to our bells<p>.</p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Your monks are learned<br> +And holy men, I trust.<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> There are among them<br> +Learned and holy men. Yet in this age<br> +We need another Hildebrand, to shake<br> +And purify us like a mighty wind.<br> +The world is wicked, and sometimes I wonder<br> +God does not lose his patience with it wholly,<br> +And shatter it like glass! Even here, at times,<br> +Within these walls, where all should be at peace,<br> +I have my trials. Time has laid his hand<br> +Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it,<br> +But as a harper lays his open palm<br> +Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.<br> +Ashes are on my head, and on my lips<br> +Sackcloth, and in my breast a heaviness<br> +And weariness of life, that makes me ready<br> +To say to the dead Abbots under us,<br> +"Make room for me!" Only I see the dusk<br> +Of evening twilight coming, and have not<br> +Completed half my task; and so at times<br> +The thought of my shortcomings in this life<br> +Falls like a shadow on the life to come.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> We must all die, and not the old alone;<br> +The young have no exemption from that doom.<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> Ah, yes! the young may die, but the old must!<br> +That is the difference.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I have heard much laud<br> +Of your transcribers. Your Scriptorium<br> +Is famous among all, your manuscripts<br> +Praised for their beauty and their excellence.<p></p> + + <i>Abbot.</i> That is indeed our boast. If you desire it,<br> +You shall behold these treasures. And meanwhile<br> +Shall the Refectorarius bestow<br> +Your horses and attendants for the night.<p></p> + + (<i>They go in. The Vesper-bell rings.</i>)<br> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>THE CHAPEL.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Vespers; after which the monks retire, a chorister +leading an old monk who is blind</i>.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> They are all gone, save one who lingers,<br> +Absorbed in deep and silent prayer.<br> +As if his heart could find no rest,<br> +At times he beats his heaving breast<br> +With clenched and convulsive fingers,<br> +Then lifts them trembling in the air.<br> +A chorister, with golden hair,<br> +Guides hitherward his heavy pace.<br> +Can it be so? Or does my sight<br> +Deceive me in the uncertain light?<br> +Ah no! I recognize that face,<br> +Though Time has touched it in his flight,<br> +And changed the auburn hair to white.<br> +It is Count Hugo of the Rhine,<br> +The deadliest foe of all our race,<br> +And hateful unto me and mine!<p></p> + + <i>The Blind Monk</i>. Who is it that doth stand so near<br> +His whispered words I almost hear?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. I am Prince Henry of Hoheneck,<br> +And you, Count Hugo of the Rhine!<br> +I know you, and I see the scar,<br> +The brand upon your forehead, shine<br> +And redden like a baleful star!<p></p> + + <i>The Blind Monk</i>. Count Hugo once, but now the wreck<br> +Of what I was. O Hoheneck!<br> +The passionate will, the pride, the wrath<br> +That bore me headlong on my path,<br> +Stumbled and staggered into fear,<br> +And failed me in my mad career,<br> +As a tired steed some evil-doer,<br> +Alone upon a desolate moor,<br> +Bewildered, lost, deserted, blind,<br> +And hearing loud and close behind<br> +The o'ertaking steps of his pursuer.<br> +Then suddenly, from the dark there came<br> +A voice that called me by my name,<br> +And said to me, "Kneel down and pray!"<br> +And so my terror passed away,<br> +Passed utterly away forever.<br> +Contrition, penitence, remorse,<br> +Came on me, with o'erwhelming force;<br> +A hope, a longing, an endeavor,<br> +By days of penance and nights of prayer,<br> +To frustrate and defeat despair!<br> +Calm, deep, and still is now my heart.<br> +With tranquil waters overflowed;<br> +A lake whose unseen fountains start,<br> +Where once the hot volcano glowed.<br> +And you, O Prince of Hoheneck!<br> +Have known me in that earlier time,<br> +A man of violence and crime,<br> +Whose passions brooked no curb nor check.<br> +Behold me now, in gentler mood,<br> +One of this holy brotherhood.<br> +Give me your hand; here let me kneel;<br> +Make your reproaches sharp as steel;<br> +Spurn me, and smite me on each cheek;<br> +No violence can harm the meek,<br> +There is no wound Christ cannot heal!<br> +Yes; lift your princely hand, and take<br> +Revenge, if 't is revenge you seek,<br> +Then pardon me, for Jesus' sake!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Arise, Count Hugo! let there be<br> +No farther strife nor enmity<br> +Between us twain; we both have erred!<br> +Too rash in act, too wroth in word,<br> +From the beginning have we stood<br> +In fierce, defiant attitude,<br> +Each thoughtless of the other's right,<br> +And each reliant on his might.<br> +But now our souls are more subdued;<br> +The hand of God, and not in vain,<br> +Has touched us with the fire of pain.<br> +Let us kneel down, and side by side<br> +Pray, till our souls are purified,<br> +And pardon will not be denied!<p></p> + + (<i>They kneel.</i>)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>THE REFECTORY.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>Gaudiolum of Monks at midnight. LUCIFER disguised +as a Friar.</i><p></p> + +<i>Friar Paul (sings).</i> Ave! color vini clari,<br> + Dulcis potus, non aman,<br> + Tua nos inebriari<br> + Digneris potentia!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> Not so much noise, my worthy freres,<br> +You'll disturb the Abbot at his prayers.<p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul (sings).</i> O! quam placens in colore!<br> + O! quam fragrans in odore!<br> + O! quam sapidum in ore!<br> + Dulce linguse vinculum!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> I should think your tongue had<br> +broken its chain!<p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul (sings).</i> Felix venter quern intrabis!<br> + Felix guttur quod rigabis!<br> + Felix os quod tu lavabis!<br> + Et beata labia!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> Peace! I say, peace!<br> +Will you never cease!<br> +You will rouse up the Abbot, I tell you again!<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> No danger! to-night he will let us alone,<br> +As I happen to know he has guests of his own.<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> Who are they?<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> A German Prince and his train,<br> +Who arrived here just before the rain.<br> +There is with him a damsel fair to see,<br> +As slender and graceful as a reed!<br> +When she alighted from her steed,<br> +It seemed like a blossom blown from a tree.<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> None of your pale-faced girls for me!<br><p></p> + + + (<i>Kisses the girl at his side</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> Come, old fellow, drink down to your peg!<br> +do not drink any farther, I beg!<p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul (sings).</i> In the days of gold,<br> + The days of old,<br> + Cross of wood<br> + And bishop of gold!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert (to the girl).</i> What an infernal racket and din!<br> +No need not blush so, that's no sin.<br> +You look very holy in this disguise,<br> +Though there's something wicked in your eyes!<p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul (continues.)</i> Now we have changed<br> + That law so good,<br> + To cross of gold<br> + And bishop of wood!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> I like your sweet face under a hood.<br> +Sister! how came you into this way?<p></p> + + <i>Girl.</i> It was you, Friar Cuthbert, who led me astray.<br> +Have you forgotten that day in June,<br> +When the church was so cool in the afternoon,<br> +And I came in to confess my sins?<br> +That is where my ruin begins.<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> What is the name of yonder friar,<br> +With an eye that glows like a coal of fire,<br> +And such a black mass of tangled hair?<p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul.</i> He who is sitting there,<br> +With a rollicking,<br> +Devil may care,<br> +Free and easy look and air,<br> +As if he were used to such feasting and frollicking?<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> The same.<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul.</i> He's a stranger. You had better ask his name,<br> +And where he is going, and whence he came.<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> Hallo! Sir Friar!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul.</i> You must raise your voice a little higher,<br> +He does not seem to hear what you say.<br> +Now, try again! He is looking this way.<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> Hallo! Sir Friar,<br> +We wish to inquire<br> +Whence you came, and where you are going,<br> +And anything else that is worth the knowing.<br> +So be so good as to open your head.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> I am a Frenchman born and bred,<br> +Going on a pilgrimage to Rome.<br> +My home<br> +Is the convent of St. Gildas de Rhuys,<br> +Of which, very like, you never have heard.<p></p> + + <i>Monks.</i> Never a word!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> You must know, then, it is in the diocese<br> +Called the Diocese of Vannes,<br> +In the province of Brittany.<br> +From the gray rocks of Morbihan<br> +It overlooks the angry sea;<br> +The very seashore where,<br> +In his great despair,<br> +Abbot Abelard walked to and fro,<br> +Filling the night with woe,<br> +And wailing aloud to the merciless seas<br> +The name of his sweet Heloise!<br> +Whilst overhead<br> +The convent windows gleamed as red<br> +As the fiery eyes of the monks within,<br> +Who with jovial din<br> +Gave themselves up to all kinds of sin!<br> +Ha! that is a convent! that is an abbey!<br> +Over the doors,<br> +None of your death-heads carved in wood,<br> +None of your Saints looking pious and good,<br> +None of your Patriarchs old and shabby!<br> +But the heads and tusks of boars,<br> +And the cells<br> +Hung all round with the fells<br> +of the fallow-deer,<br> +And then what cheer!<br> +What jolly, fat friars,<br> +Sitting round the great, roaring fires,<br> +Roaring louder than they,<br> +With their strong wines,<br> +And their concubines,<br> +And never a bell,<br> +With its swagger and swell,<br> +Calling you up with a start of affright<br> +In the dead of night,<br> +To send you grumbling down dark stairs,<br> +To mumble your prayers,<br> +But the cheery crow<br> +Of cocks in the yard below,<br> +After daybreak, an hour or so,<br> +And the barking of deep-mouthed hounds,<br> +These are the sounds<br> +That, instead of bells, salute the ear.<br> +And then all day<br> +Up and away<br> +Through the forest, hunting the deer!<br> +Ah, my friends! I'm afraid that here<br> +You are a little too pious, a little too tame,<br> +And the more is the shame,<br> +It is the greatest folly<br> +Not to be jolly;<br> +That's what I think!<br> +Come, drink, drink,<br> +Drink, and die game!<p></p> + + <i>Monks,</i> And your Abbot What's-his-name?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Abelard!<br><p></p> + + <i>Monks.</i> Did he drink hard?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> O, no! Not he!<br> +He was a dry old fellow,<br> +Without juice enough to get thoroughly mellow.<br> +There he stood,<br> +Lowering at us in sullen mood,<br> +As if he had come into Brittany<br> +Just to reform our brotherhood!<p></p> + + (<i>A roar of laughter</i>.)<br><p></p> + +But you see<br> +It never would do!<br> +For some of us knew a thing or two,<br> +In the Abbey of St. Gildas de Rhuys!<br> +For instance, the great ado<br> +With old Fulbert's niece,<br> +The young and lovely Heloise!<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> Stop there, if you please,<br> +Till we drink to the fair Heloise.<p></p> + + <i>All (drinking and shouting).</i> Heloise! Heloise!<br><p></p> + + (<i>The Chapel-bell tolls</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (starting).</i> What is that bell for? Are you such asses<br> +As to keep up the fashion of midnight masses?<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> It is only a poor, unfortunate brother,<br> +Who is gifted with most miraculous powers<br> +Of getting up at all sorts of hours,<br> +And, by way of penance and Christian meekness,<br> +Of creeping silently out of his cell<br> +To take a pull at that hideous bell;<br> +So that all the monks who are lying awake<br> +May murmur some kind of prayer for his sake,<br> +And adapted to his peculiar weakness!<p></p> + + <i>Friar John.</i> From frailty and fall--<br><p></p> + + <i>All.</i> Good Lord, deliver us all!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> And before the bell for matins sounds,<br> +He takes his lantern, and goes the rounds,<br> +Flashing it into our sleepy eyes,<br> +Merely to say it is time to arise.<br> +But enough of that. Go on, if you please,<br> +With your story about St. Gildas de Rhuys.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Well, it finally came to pass<br> +That, half in fun and half in malice,<br> +One Sunday at Mass<br> +We put some poison into the chalice.<br> +But, either by accident or design,<br> +Peter Abelard kept away<br> +From the chapel that day,<br> +And a poor, young friar, who in his stead<br> +Drank the sacramental wine,<br> +Fell on the steps of the altar, dead!<br> +But look! do you see at the window there<br> +That face, with a look of grief and despair,<br> +That ghastly face, as of one in pain?<p></p> + + <i>Monks.</i> Who? where?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> As I spoke, it vanished away again.<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> It is that nefarious<br> +Siebald the Refectorarius.<br> +That fellow is always playing the scout,<br> +Creeping and peeping and prowling about;<br> +And then he regales<br> +The Abbot with Scandalous tales.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. A spy in the convent? One of the brothers<br> +Telling scandalous tales of the others?<br> +Out upon him, the lazy loon!<br> +I would put a stop to that pretty soon,<br> +In a way he should rue it.<p></p> + + <i>Monks</i>. How shall we do it?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Do you, brother Paul,<br> +Creep under the window, close to the wall,<br> +And open it suddenly when I call.<br> +Then seize the villain by the hair,<br> +And hold him there,<br> +And punish him soundly, once for all.<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert</i>. As St. Dustan of old,<br> +We are told,<br> +Once caught the Devil by the nose!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Ha! ha! that story is very clever,<br> +But has no foundation whatsoever.<br> +Quick! for I see his face again<br> +Glaring in at the window pane;<br> +Now! now! and do not spare your blows.<p></p> + + (FRIAR PAUL <i>opens the window suddenly, and seizes</i> SIEBALD. <i>They beat him.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Siebald</i>. Help! help! are you going to slay me?<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul</i>. That will teach you again to betray me!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Siebald</i>. Mercy! mercy!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Paul</i> (<i>shouting and beating</i>). Rumpas bellorum lorum,<br> + Vim confer amorum<br> + Morum verorum, rorun.<br> + Tu plena polorum!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. Who stands in the doorway yonder,<br> +Stretching out his trembling hand,<br> +Just as Abelard used to stand,<br> +The flash of his keen, black eyes<br> +Forerunning the thunder?<p></p> + + <i>The Monks (in confusion)</i>. The Abbot! the<br> +Abbot!<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert (to the girl)</i>. Put on your disguise!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Francis</i>. Hide the great flagon<br> +From the eyes of the dragon!<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert</i>. Pull the brown hood over your face,<br> +Lest you bring me into disgrace!<p></p> + + <i>Abbot</i>. What means this revel and carouse?<br> +Is this a tavern and drinking-house?<br> +Are you Christian monks, or heathen devils,<br> +To pollute this convent with your revels?<br> +Were Peter Damian still upon earth,<br> +To be shocked by such ungodly mirth,<br> +He would write your names, with pen of gall,<br> +In his Book of Gomorrah, one and all!<br> +Away, you drunkards! to your cells,<br> +And pray till you hear the matin-bells;<br> +You, Brother Francis, and you, Brother Paul!<br> +And as a penance mark each prayer<br> +With the scourge upon your shoulders bare;<br> +Nothing atones for such a sin<br> +But the blood that follows the discipline.<br> +And you, Brother Cuthbert, come with me<br> +Alone into the sacristy;<br> +You, who should be a guide to your brothers,<br> +And are ten times worse than all the others,<br> +For you I've a draught that has long been brewing<br> +You shall do a penance worth the doing!<br> +Away to your prayers, then, one and all!<br> +I wonder the very, convent wall<br> +Does not crumble and crush you in its fall!<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE NEIGHBORING NUNNERY.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>The</i> ABBESS IRMINGARD <i>sitting with</i> ELSIE <i>in the +moonlight.</i><p></p> + + <i>Irmingard</i> The night is silent, the wind is still,<br> +The moon is looking from yonder hill<br> +Down upon convent, and grove, and garden;<br> +The clouds have passed away from her face,<br> +Leaving behind them no sorrowful trace,<br> +Only the tender and quiet grace<br> +Of one, whose heart had been healed with pardon!<p></p> + +And such am I. My soul within<br> +Was dark with passion and soiled with sin.<br> +But now its wounds are healed again;<br> +Gone are the anguish, the terror, and pain;<br> +For across that desolate land of woe,<br> +O'er whose burning sands I was forced to go,<br> +A wind from heaven began to blow;<br> +And all my being trembled and shook,<br> +As the leaves of the tree, or the grass of the field,<br> +And I was healed, as the sick are healed,<br> +When fanned by the leaves of the Holy Book!<p></p> + +As thou sittest in the moonlight there,<br> +Its glory flooding thy golden hair,<br> +And the only darkness that which lies<br> +In the haunted chambers of thine eyes,<br> +I feel my soul drawn unto thee,<br> +Strangely, and strongly, and more and more,<br> +As to one I have known and loved before;<br> +For every soul is akin to me<br> +That dwells in the land of mystery!<br> +I am the Lady Irmingard,<br> +Born of a noble race and name!<br> +Many a wandering Suabian bard,<br> +Whose life was dreary, and bleak, and hard,<br> +Has found through me the way to fame.<br> +Brief and bright were those days, and the night<br> +Which followed was full of a lurid light.<br> +Love, that of every woman's heart<br> +Will have the whole, and not a part,<br> +That is to her, in Nature's plan,<br> +More than ambition is to man,<br> +Her light, her life, her very breath,<br> +With no alternative but death,<br> +Found me a maiden soft and young,<br> +Just from the convent's cloistered school,<br> +And seated on my lowly stool,<br> +Attentive while the minstrels sung.<p></p> + +Gallant, graceful, gentle, tall,<br> +Fairest, noblest, best of all,<br> +Was Walter of the Vogelweid,<br> +And, whatsoever may betide,<br> +Still I think of him with pride!<br> +His song was of the summer-time<br> +The very birds sang in his rhyme;<br> +The sunshine, the delicious air,<br> +The fragrance of the flowers, were there,<br> +And I grew restless as I heard,<br> +Restless and buoyant as a bird,<br> +Down soft, aërial currents sailing,<br> +O'er blossomed orchards, and fields in bloom,<br> +And through the momentary gloom<br> +Of shadows o'er the landscape trailing,<br> +Yielding and borne I knew not where,<br> +But feeling resistance unavailing.<p></p> + +And thus, unnoticed and apart,<br> +And more by accident than choice.<br> +I listened to that single voice<br> +Until the chambers of my heart<br> +Were filled with it by night and day,<br> +One night,--it was a night in May,--<br> +Within the garden, unawares,<br> +Under the blossoms in the gloom,<br> +I heard it utter my own name<br> +With protestations and wild prayers;<br> +And it rang through me, and became<br> +Like the archangel's trump of doom,<br> +Which the soul hears, and must obey;<br> +And mine arose as from a tomb.<br> +My former life now seemed to me<br> +Such as hereafter death may be,<br> +When in the great Eternity<br> +We shall awake and find it day.<p></p> + +It was a dream, and would not stay;<br> +A dream, that in a single night<br> +Faded and vanished out of sight.<br> +My father's anger followed fast<br> +This passion, as a freshening blast<br> +Seeks out and fans the fire, whose rage<br> +It may increase, but not assuage.<br> +And he exclaimed: "No wandering bard<br> +Shall win thy hand, O Irmingard!<br> +For which Prince Henry of Hoheneck<br> +By messenger and letter sues."<p></p> + +Gently, but firmly, I replied:<br> +"Henry of Hoheneck I discard!<br> +Never the hand of Irmingard<br> +Shall lie in his as the hand of a bride!"<br> +This said I, Walter, for thy sake:<br> +This said I, for I could not choose.<br> +After a pause, my father spake<br> +In that cold and deliberate tone<br> +Which turns the hearer into stone,<br> +And seems itself the act to be<br> +That follows with such dread certainty;<br> +"This, or the cloister and the veil!"<br> +No other words than these he said,<br> +But they were like a funeral wail;<br> +My life was ended, my heart was dead.<p></p> + +That night from the castle-gate went down,<br> +With silent, slow, and stealthy pace,<br> +Two shadows, mounted on shadowy steeds,<br> +Taking the narrow path that leads<br> +Into the forest dense and brown,<br> +In the leafy darkness of the place,<br> +One could not distinguish form nor face,<br> +Only a bulk without a shape,<br> +A darker shadow in the shade;<br> +One scarce could say it moved or stayed,<br> +Thus it was we made our escape!<br> +A foaming brook, with many a bound,<br> +Followed us like a playful hound;<br> +Then leaped before us, and in the hollow<br> +Paused, and waited for us to follow,<br> +And seemed impatient, and afraid<br> +That our tardy flight should be betrayed<br> +By the sound our horses' hoof-beats made,<br> +And when we reached the plain below,<br> +He paused a moment and drew rein<br> +To look back at the castle again;<br> +And we saw the windows all aglow<br> +With lights, that were passing to and fro;<br> +Our hearts with terror ceased to beat;<br> +The brook crept silent to our feet;<br> +We knew what most we feared to know.<br> +Then suddenly horns began to blow;<br> +And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp,<br> +And our horses snorted in the damp<br> +Night-air of the meadows green and wide,<br> +And in a moment, side by side,<br> +So close, they must have seemed but one,<br> +The shadows across the moonlight run,<br> +And another came, and swept behind,<br> +Like the shadow of clouds before the wind!<p></p> + +How I remember that breathless flight<br> +Across the moors, in the summer night!<br> +How under our feet the long, white road<br> +Backward like a river flowed,<br> +Sweeping with it fences and hedges,<br> +Whilst farther away, and overhead,<br> +Paler than I, with fear and dread,<br> +The moon fled with us, as we fled<br> +Along the forest's jagged edges!<p></p> + +All this I can remember well;<br> +But of what afterward befell<br> +I nothing farther can recall<br> +Than a blind, desperate, headlong fall;<br> +The rest is a blank and darkness all.<br> +When I awoke out of this swoon,<br> +The sun was shining, not the moon,<br> +Making a cross upon the wall<br> +With the bars of my windows narrow and tall;<br> +And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray,<br> +From early childhood, day by day,<br> +Each morning, as in bed I lay!<br> +I was lying again in my own room!<br> +And I thanked God, in my fever and pain,<br> +That those shadows on the midnight plain<br> +Were gone, and could not come again!<br> +I struggled no longer with my doom!<br> +This happened many years ago.<br> +I left my father's home to come<br> +Like Catherine to her martyrdom,<br> +For blindly I esteemed it so.<br> +And when I heard the convent door<br> +Behind me close, to ope no more,<br> +I felt it smite me like a blow,<br> +Through all my limbs a shudder ran,<br> +And on my bruised spirit fell<br> +The dampness of my narrow cell<br> +As night-air on a wounded man,<br> +Giving intolerable pain.<p></p> + +But now a better life began,<br> +I felt the agony decrease<br> +By slow degrees, then wholly cease,<br> +Ending in perfect rest and peace!<br> +It was not apathy, nor dulness,<br> +That weighed and pressed upon my brain,<br> +But the same passion I had given<br> +To earth before, now turned to heaven<br> +With all its overflowing fulness.<p></p> + +Alas! the world is full of peril!<br> +The path that runs through the fairest meads,<br> +On the sunniest side of the valley, leads<br> +Into a region bleak and sterile!<br> +Alike in the high-born and the lowly,<br> +The will is feeble, and passion strong.<br> +We cannot sever right from wrong;<br> +Some falsehood mingles with all truth;<br> +Nor is it strange the heart of youth<br> +Should waver and comprehend but slowly<br> +The things that are holy and unholy!<p></p> + +But in this sacred and calm retreat,<br> +We are all well and safely shielded<br> +From winds that blow, and waves that beat,<br> +From the cold, and rain, and blighting heat,<br> +To which the strongest hearts have yielded.<br> +Here we stand as the Virgins Seven,<br> +For our celestial bridegroom yearning;<br> +Our hearts are lamps forever burning,<br> +With a steady and unwavering flame,<br> +Pointing upward, forever the same,<br> +Steadily upward toward the Heaven!<p></p> + +The moon is hidden behind a cloud;<br> +A sudden darkness fills the room,<br> +And thy deep eyes, amid the gloom,<br> +Shine like jewels in a shroud.<br> +On the leaves is a sound of falling rain;<br> +A bird, awakened in its nest,<br> +Gives a faint twitter of unrest,<br> +Then smoothes its plumes and sleeps again.<p></p> + +No other sounds than these I hear;<br> +The hour of midnight must be near.<br> +Thou art o'erspent with the day's fatigue<br> +Of riding many a dusty league;<br> +Sink, then, gently to thy slumber;<br> +Me so many cares encumber,<br> +So many ghosts, and forms of fright,<br> +Have started from their graves to-night,<br> +They have driven sleep from mine eyes away:<br> +I will go down to the chapel and pray.<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>V.</h2><br><p></p> + +<h2>A COVERED BRIDGE AT LUCERNE.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. God's blessing on the architects who build<br> +The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses<br> +Before impassable to human feet,<br> +No less than on the builders of cathedrals,<br> +Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across<br> +The dark and terrible abyss of Death.<br> +Well has the name of Pontifex been given<br> +Unto the Church's head, as the chief builder<br> +And architect of the invisible bridge<br> +That leads from earth to heaven.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> How dark it grows!<br> +What are these paintings on the walls around us?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> The Dance Macaber!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> What?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> The Dance of Death!<br> +All that go to and fro must look upon it,<br> +Mindful of what they shall be, while beneath,<br> +Among the wooden piles, the turbulent river<br> +Rushes, impetuous as the river of life,<br> +With dimpling eddies, ever green and bright,<br> +Save where the shadow of this bridge falls on it.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> O, yes! I see it now!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> The grim musician<br> +Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,<br> +To different sounds in different measures moving;<br> +Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,<br> +To tempt or terrify.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> What is this picture?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> It is a young man singing to a nun,<br> +Who kneels at her devotions, but in kneeling<br> +Turns round to look at him, and Death, meanwhile,<br> +Is putting out the candles on the altar!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> Ah, what a pity 't is that she should listen<br> +to such songs, when in her orisons<br> +She might have heard in heaven the angels singing!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Here he has stolen a jester's cap and bells,<br> +And dances with the Queen.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> A foolish jest!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> And here the heart of the new-wedded wife,<br> +Coming from church with her beloved lord,<br> +He startles with the rattle of his drum.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> Ah, that is sad! And yet perhaps 't is best<br> +That she should die, with all the sunshine on her,<br> +And all the benedictions of the morning,<br> +Before this affluence of golden light<br> +Shall fade into a cold and clouded gray,<br> +Then into darkness!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Under it is written,<br> +"Nothing but death shall separate thee and me!"<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> And what is this, that follows close upon it?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Death, playing on a ducimer. Behind him,<br> +A poor old woman, with a rosary,<br> +Follows the sound, and seems to wish her feet<br> +Were swifter to o'ertake him. Underneath,<br> +The inscription reads, "Better is Death than Life."<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Better is Death than Life! Ah yes! to thousands<br> +Death plays upon a dulcimer, and sings<br> +That song of consolation, till the air<br> +Rings with it, and they cannot choose but follow<br> +Whither he leads. And not the old alone,<br> +But the young also hear it, and are still.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Yes, in their sadder moments. 'T is the sound<br> +Of their own hearts they hear, half full of tears,<br> +Which are like crystal cups, half filled with water.<br> +Responding to the pressure of a finger<br> +With music sweet and low and melancholy.<br> +Let us go forward, and no longer stay<br> +In this great picture-gallery of Death!<br> +I hate it! ay, the very thought of it!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Why is it hateful to you?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> For the reason<br> +That life, and all that speaks of life, is lovely,<br> +And death, and all that speaks of death, is hateful.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> The grave is but a covered bridge,<br> +leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry (emerging from the bridge).</i> I breathe again more<br> + freely! Ah, how pleasant<br> +To come once more into the light of day,<br> +Out of that shadow of death! To hear again<br> +The hoof-beats of our horses on firm ground,<br> +And not upon those hollow planks, resounding<br> +With a sepulchral echo, like the clods<br> +On coffins in a churchyard! Yonder lies<br> +The Lake of the Four Forest-Towns, apparelled<br> +In light, and lingering, like a village maiden,<br> +Hid in the bosom of her native mountains,<br> +Then pouring all her life into another's,<br> +Changing her name and being! Overhead,<br> +Shaking his cloudy tresses loose in air,<br> +Rises Pilatus, with his windy pines.<p></p> + + (<i>They pass on</i>.)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +PRINCE HENRY <i>and</i> ELSIE <i>crossing, with attendants.</i><p></p> + + <i>Guide.</i> This bridge is called the Devil's Bridge.<br> +With a single arch, from ridge to ridge,<br> +It leaps across the terrible chasm<br> +Yawning beneath us, black and deep,<br> +As if, in some convulsive spasm,<br> +the summits of the hills had cracked,<br> +and made a road for the cataract,<br> +That raves and rages down the steep!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (under the bridge).</i> Ha! ha!<br><p></p> + + <i>Guide.</i> Never any bridge but this<br> +Could stand across the wild abyss;<br> +All the rest, of wood or stone,<br> +By the Devil's hand were overthrown.<br> +He toppled crags from the precipice,<br> +And whatsoe'er was built by day<br> +In the night was swept away;<br> +None could stand but this alone.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (under the bridge).</i> Ha! ha!<br><p></p> + + <i>Guide.</i> I showed you in the valley a boulder<br> +Marked with the imprint of his shoulder;<br> +As he was bearing it up this way,<br> +A peasant, passing, cried, "Herr Jé!"<br> +And the Devil dropped it in his fright,<br> +And vanished suddenly out of sight!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (under the bridge).</i> Ha! ha!<br><p></p> + + <i>Guide.</i> Abbot Giraldus of Einsiedel,<br> +For pilgrims on their way to Rome,<br> +Built this at last, with a single arch,<br> +Under which, on its endless march,<br> +Runs the river, white with foam,<br> +Like a thread through the eye of a needle.<br> +And the Devil promised to let it stand,<br> +Under compact and condition<br> +That the first living thing which crossed<br> +Should be surrendered into his hand,<br> +And be beyond redemption lost.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (under the bridge).</i> Ha! ha! perdition!<br><p></p> + + <i>Guide.</i> At length, the bridge being all completed,<br> +The Abbot, standing at its head,<br> +Threw across it a loaf of bread,<br> +Which a hungry dog sprang after,<br> +And the rocks reechoed with peals of laughter<br> +To see the Devil thus defeated!<p></p> + + (<i>They pass on</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i> (<i>under the bridge</i>) Ha! ha! defeated!<br> +For journeys and for crimes like this<br> +To let the bridge stand o'er the abyss!<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE ST. GOTHARD PASS.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> This is the highest point. Two ways the rivers<br> +Leap down to different seas, and as they roll<br> +Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence<br> +Becomes a benefaction to the towns<br> +They visit, wandering silently among them,<br> +Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> How bleak and bare it is! Nothing but mosses<br> +Grow on these rocks.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Yet are they not forgotten;<br> +Beneficent Nature sends the mists to feed them.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft<br> +So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away<br> +Over the snowy peaks! It seems to me<br> +The body of St. Catherine, borne by angels!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Thou art St. Catherine, and invisible angels<br> +Bear thee across these chasms and precipices,<br> +Lest thou shouldst dash thy feet against a stone!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Would I were borne unto my grave, as she was,<br> +Upon angelic shoulders! Even now<br> +I Seem uplifted by them, light as air!<br> +What sound is that?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. The tumbling avalanches!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> How awful, yet how beautiful!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. These are<br> +The voices of the mountains! Thus they ope<br> +Their snowy lips, and speak unto each other,<br> +In the primeval language, lost to man.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i>. What land is this that spreads itself beneath us?<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Italy! Italy!<br><p></p> + + <i>Elsie</i> Land of the Madonna!<br> +How beautiful it is! It seems a garden<br> +Of Paradise!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. Nay, of Gethsemane<br> +To thee and me, of passion and of prayer!<br> +Yet once of Paradise. Long years ago<br> +I wandered as a youth among its bowers,<br> +And never from my heart has faded quite<br> +Its memory, that, like a summer sunset,<br> +Encircles with a ring of purple light<br> +All the horizon of my youth.<p></p> + + <i>Guide</i>. O friends!<br> +The days are short, the way before us long;<br> +We must not linger, if we think to reach<br> +The inn at Belinzona before vespers!<p></p> + + (<i>They pass on</i>.)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>AT THE FOOT OF THE ALPS.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>A halt under the trees at noon</i>.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i> Here let us pause a moment in the trembling<br> +Shadow and sunshine of the roadside trees,<br> +And, our tired horses in a group assembling,<br> +Inhale long draughts of this delicious breeze<br> +Our fleeter steeds have distanced our attendants;<br> +They lag behind us with a slower pace;<br> +We will await them under the green pendants<br> +Of the great willows in this shady place.<br> +Ho, Barbarossa! how thy mottled haunches<br> +Sweat with this canter over hill and glade!<br> +Stand still, and let these overhanging branches<br> +Fan thy hot sides and comfort thee with shade!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> What a delightful landscape spreads before us,<br> +Marked with a whitewashed cottage here and there!<br> +And, in luxuriant garlands drooping o'er us,<br> +Blossoms of grapevines scent the sunny air.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Hark! what sweet sounds are those, whose accents holy<br> +Fill the warm noon with music sad and sweet!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> It is a band of pilgrims, moving slowly<br> +On their long journey, with uncovered feet.<p></p> + + <i>Pilgrims (chaunting the Hymn of St. Hildebert)</i><br> + Me receptet Sion illa,<br> + Sion David, urbs tranquilla,<br> + Cujus faber auctor lucis,<br> + Cujus portae lignum crucis,<br> + Cujus claves lingua Petri,<br> + Cujus cives semper laeti,<br> + Cujus muri lapis vivus,<br> + Cujus custos Rex festivus!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (as a Friar in the procession).</i> Here am I, too, in the<br> + pious band,<br> +In the garb of a barefooted Carmelite dressed!<br> +The soles of my feet are as hard and tanned<br> +As the conscience of old Pope Hildebrand,<br> +The Holy Satan, who made the wives<br> +Of the bishops lead such shameful lives.<br> +All day long I beat my breast,<br> +And chaunt with a most particular zest<br> +The Latin hymns, which I understand<br> +Quite as well, I think, as the rest.<br> +And at night such lodging in barns and sheds,<br> +Such a hurly-burly in country inns,<br> +Such a clatter of tongues in empty heads,<br> +Such a helter-skelter of prayers and sins!<br> +Of all the contrivances of the time<br> +For sowing broadcast the seeds of crime,<br> +There is none so pleasing to me and mine<br> +As a pilgrimage to some far-off shrine!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> If from the outward man we judge the inner,<br> +And cleanliness is godliness, I fear<br> +A hopeless reprobate, a hardened sinner,<br> +Must be that Carmelite now passing near.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> There is my German Prince again,<br> +Thus far on his journey to Salern,<br> +And the lovesick girl, whose heated brain<br> +Is sowing the cloud to reap the rain;<br> +But it's a long road that has no turn!<br> +Let them quietly hold their way,<br> +I have also a part in the play.<br> +But first I must act to my heart's content<br> +This mummery and this merriment,<br> +And drive this motley flock of sheep<br> +Into the fold, where drink and sleep<br> +The jolly old friars of Benevent.<br> +Of a truth, it often provokes me to laugh<br> +To see these beggars hobble along,<br> +Lamed and maimed, and fed upon chaff,<br> +Chanting their wonderful piff and paff,<br> +And, to make up for not understanding the song,<br> +Singing it fiercely, and wild, and strong!<br> +Were it not for my magic garters and staff,<br> +And the goblets of goodly wine I quaff,<br> +And the mischief I make in the idle throng,<br> +I should not continue the business long.<p></p> + + <i>Pilgrims (chaunting).</i> In hâc uibe, lux solennis,<br> + Ver aeternum, pax perennis,<br> + In hâc odor implens caelos,<br> + In hâc semper festum melos!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Do you observe that monk among the train,<br> +Who pours from his great throat the roaring bass,<br> +As a cathedral spout pours out the rain,<br> +And this way turns his rubicund, round face?<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> It is the same who, on the Strasburg square,<br> +Preached to the people in the open air.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> And he has crossed o'er mountain, field, and fell,<br> +On that good steed, that seems to bear him well,<br> +The hackney of the Friars of Orders Gray,<br> +His own stout legs! He, too, was in the play,<br> +Both as King Herod and Ben Israel.<br> +Good morrow, Friar!<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> Good morrow, noble Sir!<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I speak in German, for, unless I err,<br> +You are a German.<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> I cannot gainsay you.<br> +But by what instinct, or what secret sign,<br> +Meeting me here, do you straightway divine<br> +That northward of the Alps my country lies?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Your accent, like St, Peter's, would betray you,<br> +Did not your yellow beard and your blue eyes,<br> +Moreover, we have seen your face before,<br> +And heard you preach at the Cathedral door<br> +On Easter Sunday, in the Strasburg square<br> +We were among the crowd that gathered there,<br> +And saw you play the Rabbi with great skill,<br> +As if, by leaning o'er so many years<br> +To walk with little children, your own will<br> +Had caught a childish attitude from theirs,<br> +A kind of stooping in its form and gait,<br> +And could no longer stand erect and straight.<br> +Whence come you now?<p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> From the old monastery<br> +Of Hirschau, in the forest; being sent<br> +Upon a pilgrimage to Benevent,<br> +To see the image of the Virgin Mary,<br> +That moves its holy eyes, and sometimes speaks,<br> +And lets the piteous tears run down its cheeks,<br> +To touch the hearts of the impenitent.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> O, had I faith, as in the days gone by,<br> +That knew no doubt, and feared no mystery!<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (at a distance).</i> Ho, Cuthbert! Friar Cuthbert!<br><p></p> + + <i>Friar Cuthbert.</i> Farewell, Prince!<br> +I cannot stay to argue and convince.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> This is indeed the blessed Mary's land,<br> +Virgin and Mother of our dear Redeemer!<br> +All hearts are touched and softened at her name;<br> +Alike the bandit, with the bloody hand,<br> +The priest, the prince, the scholar, and the peasant,<br> +The man of deeds, the visionary dreamer,<br> +Pay homage to her as one ever present!<br> +And even as children, who have much offended<br> +A too indulgent father, in great shame,<br> +Penitent, and yet not daring unattended<br> +To go into his presence, at the gate<br> +Speak with their sister, and confiding wait<br> +Till she goes in before and intercedes;<br> +So men, repenting of their evil deeds,<br> +And yet not venturing rashly to draw near<br> +With their requests an angry father's ear,<br> +Offer to her their prayers and their confession,<br> +And she for them in heaven makes intercession.<br> +And if our Faith had given us nothing more<br> +Than this example of all womanhood,<br> +So mild, so merciful, so strong, so good,<br> +So patient, peaceful, loyal, loving, pure,<br> +This were enough to prove it higher and truer<br> +Than all the creeds the world had known before.<p></p> + +<i>Pilgrims (chaunting afar off)</i>. Urbs ccelestis, urbs beata,<br> + Supra petram collocata,<br> + Urbs in portu satis tuto<br> + De longinquo te saluto,<br> + Te saluto, te suspiro,<br> + Te affecto, te requiro!<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE INN AT GENOA.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<i>A terrace overlooking the sea. Night.</i><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> It is the sea, it is the sea,<br> +In all its vague immensity,<br> +Fading and darkening in the distance!<br> +Silent, majestical, and slow,<br> +The white ships haunt it to and fro,<br> +With all their ghostly sails unfurled,<br> +As phantoms from another world<br> +Haunt the dim confines of existence!<br> +But ah! how few can comprehend<br> +Their signals, or to what good end<br> +From land to land they come and go!<br> +Upon a sea more vast and dark<br> +The spirits of the dead embark,<br> +All voyaging to unknown coasts.<br> +We wave our farewells from the shore,<br> +And they depart, and come no more,<br> +Or come as phantoms and as ghosts.<p></p> + +Above the darksome sea of death<br> +Looms the great life that is to be,<br> +A land of cloud and mystery,<br> +A dim mirage, with shapes of men<br> +Long dead, and passed beyond our ken.<br> +Awe-struck we gaze, and hold our breath<br> +Till the fair pageant vanisheth,<br> +Leaving us in perplexity,<br> +And doubtful whether it has been<br> +A vision of the world unseen,<br> +Or a bright image of our own<br> +Against the sky in vapors thrown.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer (singing from the sea)</i>. Thou didst not make it, thou<br> + canst not mend it,<br> +But thou hast the power to end it!<br> +The sea is silent, the sea is discreet,<br> +Deep it lies at thy very feet;<br> +There is no confessor like unto Death!<br> +Thou canst not see him, but he is near;<br> +Thou needest not whisper above thy breath,<br> +And he will hear;<br> +He will answer the questions,<br> +The vague surmises and suggestions,<br> +That fill thy soul with doubt and fear!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry</i>. The fisherman, who lies afloat,<br> +With shadowy sail, in yonder boat,<br> +Is singing softly to the Night!<br> +But do I comprehend aright<br> +The meaning of the words he sung<br> +So sweetly in his native tongue?<br> +Ah, yes! the sea is still and deep.<br> +All things within its bosom sleep!<br> +A single step, and all is o'er;<br> +A plunge, a bubble, and no more;<br> +And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be free<br> +From martyrdom and agony.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie (coming from her chamber upon the terrace).</i><br> +The night is calm and cloudless,<br> +And still as still can be,<br> +And the stars come forth to listen<br> +To the music of the sea.<br> +They gather, and gather, and gather,<br> +Until they crowd the sky,<br> +And listen, in breathless silence,<br> +To the solemn litany.<br> +It begins in rocky caverns,<br> +As a voice that chaunts alone<br> +To the pedals of the organ<br> +In monotonous undertone;<br> +And anon from shelving beaches,<br> +And shallow sands beyond,<br> +In snow-white robes uprising<br> +The ghostly choirs respond.<br> +And sadly and unceasing<br> +The mournful voice sings on,<br> +And the snow-white choirs still answer<br> +Christe eleison!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Angel of God! thy finer sense perceives<br> +Celestial and perpetual harmonies!<br> +Thy purer soul, that trembles and believes,<br> +Hears the archangel's trumpet in the breeze,<br> +And where the forest rolls, or ocean heaves,<br> +Cecilia's organ sounding in the seas,<br> +And tongues of prophets speaking in the leaves.<br> +But I hear discord only and despair,<br> +And whispers as of demons in the air!<p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>AT SEA.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + + <i>Il Padrone.</i> The wind upon our quarter lies,<br> +And on before the freshening gale,<br> +That fills the snow-white lateen sail,<br> +Swiftly our light felucca flies.<br> +Around, the billows burst and foam;<br> +They lift her o'er the sunken rock,<br> +They beat her sides with many a shock,<br> +And then upon their flowing dome<br> +They poise her, like a weathercock!<br> +Between us and the western skies<br> +The hills of Corsica arise;<br> +Eastward, in yonder long, blue line,<br> +The summits of the Apennine,<br> +And southward, and still far away,<br> +Salerno, on its sunny bay.<br> +You cannot see it, where it lies.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Ah, would that never more mine eyes<br> +Might see its towers by night or day!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Behind us, dark and awfully,<br> +There comes a cloud out of the sea,<br> +That bears the form of a hunted deer,<br> +With hide of brown, and hoofs of black,<br> +And antlers laid upon its back,<br> +And fleeing fast and wild with fear,<br> +As if the hounds were on its track!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Lo! while we gaze, it breaks and falls<br> +In shapeless masses, like the walls<br> +Of a burnt city. Broad and red<br> +The fires of the descending sun<br> +Glare through the windows, and o'erhead,<br> +Athwart the vapors, dense and dun,<br> +Long shafts of silvery light arise,<br> +Like rafters that support the skies!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> See! from its summit the lurid levin<br> +Flashes downward without warning,<br> +As Lucifer, son of the morning,<br> +Fell from the battlements of heaven!<p></p> + + <i>Il Padrone.</i> I must entreat you, friends, below!<br> +The angry storm begins to blow,<br> +For the weather changes with the moon.<br> +All this morning, until noon,<br> +We had baffling winds, and sudden flaws<br> +Struck the sea with their cat's-paws.<br> +Only a little hour ago<br> +I was whistling to Saint Antonio<br> +For a capful of wind to fill our sail,<br> +And instead of a breeze he has sent a gale.<br> +Last night I saw St. Elmo's stars,<br> +With their glimmering lanterns, all at play<br> +On the tops of the masts and the tips of the spars,<br> +And I knew we should have foul weather to-day.<br> +Cheerily, my hearties! yo heave ho!<br> +Brail up the mainsail, and let her go<br> +As the winds will and Saint Antonio!<p></p> + +Do you see that Livornese felucca,<br> +That vessel to the windward yonder,<br> +Running with her gunwale under?<br> +I was looking when the wind o'ertook her,<br> +She had all sail set, and the only wonder<br> +Is that at once the strength of the blast<br> +Did not carry away her mast.<br> +She is a galley of the Gran Duca,<br> +That, through the fear of the Algerines,<br> +Convoys those lazy brigantines,<br> +Laden with wine and oil from Lucca.<br> +Now all is ready, high and low;<br> +Blow, blow, good Saint Antonio!<p></p> + +Ha! that is the first dash of the rain,<br> +With a sprinkle of spray above the rails,<br> +Just enough to moisten our sails,<br> +And make them ready for the strain.<br> +See how she leaps, as the blasts o'ertake her,<br> +And speeds away with a bone in her mouth!<br> +Now keep her head toward the south,<br> +And there is no danger of bank or breaker.<br> +With the breeze behind us, on we go;<br> +Not too much, good Saint Antonio!<p></p> + + + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br> +<h2>VI.</h2> +<br> + +<h2>THE SCHOOL OF SALERNO.</h2> + +<br><br><hr style="width: 35%;"><br> +<i>A traveling Scholastic affixing his Theses to the gate +of the College.</i><p></p> + + <i>Scholastic.</i> There, that is my gauntlet, my banner, my shield,<br> +Hung up as a challenge to all the field!<br> +One hundred and twenty-five propositions,<br> +Which I will maintain with the sword of the tongue<br> +Against all disputants, old and young.<br> +Let us see if doctors or dialecticians<br> +Will dare to dispute my definitions,<br> +Or attack any one of my learned theses.<br> +Here stand I; the end shall be as God pleases.<br> +I think I have proved, by profound research<br> +The error of all those doctrines so vicious<br> +Of the old Areopagite Dionysius,<br> +That are making such terrible work in the churches,<br> +By Michael the Stammerer sent from the East,<br> +And done into Latin by that Scottish beast,<br> +Erigena Johannes, who dares to maintain,<br> +In the face of the truth, the error infernal,<br> +That the universe is and must be eternal;<br> +At first laying down, as a fact fundamental,<br> +That nothing with God can be accidental;<br> +Then asserting that God before the creation<br> +Could not have existed, because it is plain<br> +That, had he existed, he would have created;<br> +Which is begging the question that should be debated,<br> +And moveth me less to anger than laughter.<br> +All nature, he holds, is a respiration<br> +Of the Spirit of God, who, in breathing, hereafter<br> +Will inhale it into his bosom again,<br> +So that nothing but God alone will remain.<br> +And therein he contradicteth himself;<br> +For he opens the whole discussion by stating,<br> +That God can only exist in creating.<br> +That question I think I have laid on the shelf!<p></p> + + (<i>He goes out. Two Doctors come in disputing, and followed by pupils.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Doctor Serafino.</i> I, with the Doctor Seraphic, maintain,<br> +That a word which is only conceived in the brain<br> +Is a type of eternal Generation;<br> +The spoken word is the Incarnation.<p></p> + + <i>Doctor Cherubino.</i> What do I care for the Doctor Seraphic,<br> +With all his wordy chaffer and traffic?<p></p> + + <i>Doctor Serafino.</i> You make but a paltry show of resistance;<br> +Universals have no real existence!<p></p> + + <i>Doctor Cherubino.</i> Your words are but idle and empty chatter;<br> +Ideas are eternally joined to matter!<p></p> + + <i>Doctor Serafino</i>. May the Lord have mercy on your position,<br> +You wretched, wrangling culler of herbs!<p></p> + + <i>Doctor Cherubino</i>. May he send your soul to eternal perdition,<br> +For your Treatise on the Irregular Verbs!<p></p> + + (<i>They rush out fighting. Two Scholars come in.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>First Scholar</i>. Monte Cassino, then, is your College.<br> +What think you of ours here at Salern?<p></p> + + <i>Second Scholar</i>. To tell the truth, I arrived so lately,<br> +I hardly yet have had time to discern.<br> +So much, at least, I am bound to acknowledge:<br> +The air seems healthy, the buildings stately,<br> +And on the whole I like it greatly.<p></p> + + <i>First Scholar</i>. Yes, the air is sweet; the Calabrian hills<br> +Send us down puffs of mountain air;<br> +And in summer time the sea-breeze fills<br> +With its coolness cloister, and court, and square.<br> +Then at every season of the year<br> +There are crowds of guests and travellers here;<br> +Pilgrims, and mendicant friars, and traders<br> +From the Levant, with figs and wine,<br> +And bands of wounded and sick Crusaders,<br> +Coming back from Palestine.<p></p> + + <i>Second Scholar</i>. And what are the studies you pursue?<br> +What is the course you here go through?<p></p> + + <i>First Scholar</i>. The first three years of the college course<br> +Are given to Logic alone, as the source<br> +Of all that is noble, and wise, and true.<p></p> + + <i>Second Scholar</i>. That seems rather strange, I must confess.<br> +In a Medical School; yet, nevertheless,<br> +You doubtless have reasons for that.<p></p> + + <i>First Scholar</i>. Oh yes!<br> +For none but a clever dialectician<br> +Can hope to become a great physician;<br> +That has been settled long ago.<br> +Logic makes an important part<br> +Of the mystery of the healing art;<br> +For without it how could you hope to show<br> +That nobody knows so much as you know?<br> +After this there are five years more<br> +Devoted wholly to medicine,<br> +With lectures on chirurgical lore,<br> +And dissections of the bodies of swine,<br> +As likest the human form divine.<p></p> + + <i>Second Scholar</i>. What are the books now most in vogue?<br><p></p> + + <i>First Scholar</i>. Quite an extensive catalogue;<br> +Mostly, however, books of our own;<br> +As Gariopontus' Passionarius,<br> +And the writings of Matthew Platearius;<br> +And a volume universally known<br> +As the Regimen of the School of Salern,<br> +For Robert of Normandy written in terse<br> +And very elegant Latin verse.<br> +Each of these writings has its turn.<br> +And when at length we have finished these,<br> +Then comes the struggle for degrees,<br> +With all the oldest and ablest critics;<br> +The public thesis and disputation,<br> +Question, and answer, and explanation<br> +Of a passage out of Hippocrates,<br> +Or Aristotle's Analytics.<br> +There the triumphant Magister stands!<br> +A book is solemnly placed in his hands,<br> +On which he swears to follow the rule<br> +And ancient forms of the good old School;<br> +To report if any confectionarius<br> +Mingles his drugs with matters various,<br> +And to visit his patients twice a day,<br> +And once in the night, if they live in town,<br> +And if they are poor, to take no pay.<br> +Having faithfully promised these,<br> +His head is crowned with a laurel crown;<br> +A kiss on his cheek, a ring on his hand,<br> +The Magister Artium et Physices<br> +Goes forth from the school like a lord of the land.<br> +And now, as we have the whole morning before us<br> +Let us go in, if you make no objection,<br> +And listen awhile to a learned prelection<br> +On Marcus Aurelius Cassiodorus.<p></p> + + (<i>They go in. Enter</i> LUCIFER <i>as a Doctor.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer</i>. This is the great School of Salern!<br> +A land of wrangling and of quarrels,<br> +Of brains that seethe, and hearts that burn,<br> +Where every emulous scholar hears,<br> +In every breath that comes to his ears,<br> +The rustling of another's laurels!<br> +The air of the place is called salubrious;<br> +The neighborhood of Vesuvius lends it<br> +An odor volcanic, that rather mends it,<br> +And the buildings have an aspect lugubrious,<br> +That inspires a feeling of awe and terror<br> +Into the heart of the beholder,<br> +And befits such an ancient homestead of error,<br> +Where the old falsehoods moulder and smoulder,<br> +And yearly by many hundred hands<br> +Are carried away, in the zeal of youth,<br> +And sown like tares in the field of truth,<br> +To blossom and ripen in other lands.<br> +What have we here, affixed to the gate?<br> +The challenge of some scholastic wight,<br> +Who wishes to hold a public debate<br> +On sundry questions wrong or right!<br> +Ah, now this is my great delight!<br> +For I have often observed of late<br> +That such discussions end in a fight.<br> +Let us see what the learned wag maintains<br> +With such a prodigal waste of brains.<p></p> + + (<i>Reads.</i>)<br><p></p> + +"Whether angels in moving from place to place<br> +Pass through the intermediate space.<br> +Whether God himself is the author of evil,<br> +Or whether that is the work of the Devil.<br> +When, where, and wherefore Lucifer fell,<br> +And whether he now is chained in hell."<p></p> + +I think I can answer that question well!<br> +So long as the boastful human mind<br> +Consents in such mills as this to grind,<br> +I sit very firmly upon my throne!<br> +Of a truth it almost makes me laugh,<br> +To see men leaving the golden grain<br> +To gather in piles the pitiful chaff<br> +That old Peter Lombard thrashed with his brain,<br> +To have it caught up and tossed again<br> +On the horns of the Dumb Ox of Cologne!<p></p> + +But my guests approach! there is in the air<br> +A fragrance, like that of the Beautiful Garden<br> +Of Paradise, in the days that were!<br> +An odor of innocence, and of prayer,<br> +And of love, and faith that never fails,<br> +Which as the fresh-young heart exhales<br> +Before it begins to wither and harden!<br> +I cannot breathe such an atmosphere!<br> +My soul is filled with a nameless fear,<br> +That, after all my trouble and pain,<br> +After all my restless endeavor,<br> +The youngest, fairest soul of the twain,<br> +The most ethereal, most divine,<br> +Will escape from my hands forever and ever.<br> +But the other is already mine!<br> +Let him live to corrupt his race,<br> +Breathing among them, with every breath,<br> +Weakness, selfishness, and the base<br> +And pusillanimous fear of death.<br> +I know his nature, and I know<br> +That of all who in my ministry<br> +Wander the great earth to and fro,<br> +And on my errands come and go,<br> +The safest and subtlest are such as he.<p></p> + + (<i>Enter</i> PRINCE HENRY <i>and</i> ELSIE <i>with attendants</i>.)<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Can you direct us to Friar Angelo?<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> He stands before you.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Then you know our purpose.<br> +I am Prince Henry of Hoheneck, and this<br> +The maiden that I spake of in my letters.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> It is a very grave and solemn business!<br> +We must not be precipitate. Does she<br> +Without compulsion, of her own free will,<br> +Consent to this?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Against all opposition,<br> +Against all prayers, entreaties, protestations.<br> +She will not be persuaded.<p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> That is strange!<br> +Have you thought well of it?<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> I come not here<br> +To argue, but to die. Your business is not<br> +to question, but to kill me. I am ready.<br> +I am impatient to be gone from here<br> +Ere any thoughts of earth disturb again<br> +The spirit of tranquillity within me.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Would I had not come here<br> + Would I were dead,<br> +And thou wert in thy cottage in the forest,<br> +And hadst not known me! Why have I done this?<br> +Let me go back and die.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> It cannot be;<br> +Not if these cold, flat stones on which we tread<br> +Were coulters heated white, and yonder gateway<br> +Flamed like a furnace with a sevenfold heat.<br> +I must fulfil my purpose.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> I forbid it!<br> +Not one step farther. For I only meant<br> +To put thus far thy courage to the proof.<br> +It is enough. I, too, have courage to die,<br> +For thou hast taught me!<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> O my Prince! remember<br> +Your promises. Let me fulfill my errand.<br> +You do not look on life and death as I do.<br> +There are two angels, that attend unseen<br> +Each one of us, and in great books record<br> +Our good and evil deeds. He who writes down<br> +The good ones, after every action closes<br> +His volume, and ascends with it to God.<br> +The other keeps his dreadful day-book open<br> +Till sunset, that we may repent; which doing,<br> +The record of the action fades away,<br> +And leaves a line of white across the page.<br> +Now if my act be good, as I believe it,<br> +It cannot be recalled. It is already<br> +Sealed up in heaven, as a good deed accomplished.<br> +The rest is yours. Why wait you? I am ready.<p></p> + + (<i>To her attendants.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Weep not, my friends! rather rejoice with me.<br> +I shall not feel the pain, but shall be gone,<br> +And you will have another friend in heaven.<br> +Then start not at the creaking of the door<br> +Through which I pass. I see what lies beyond it.<p></p> + + (<i>To</i> PRINCE HENRY.)<br><p></p> + +And you, O Prince! bear back my benison<br> +Unto my father's house, and all within it.<br> +This morning in the church I prayed for them,<br> +After confession, after absolution,<br> +When my whole soul was white, I prayed for them.<br> +God will take care of them, they need me not.<br> +And in your life let my remembrance linger,<br> +As something not to trouble and disturb it,<br> +But to complete it, adding life to life.<br> +And if at times beside the evening fire<br> +You see my face among the other faces,<br> +Let it not be regarded as a ghost<br> +That haunts your house, but as a guest that loves you.<br> +Nay, even as one of your own family,<br> +Without whose presence there were something wanting.<br> +I have no more to say. Let us go in.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Friar Angelo! I charge you on your life,<br> +Believe not what she says, for she is mad,<br> +And comes here not to die, but to be healed.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Alas! Prince Henry!<br><p></p> + + <i>Lucifer.</i> Come with me; this way.<br><p></p> + + (ELSIE <i>goes in with</i> LUCIFER, <i>who thrusts</i> PRINCE HENRY <i>back and closes the door.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Gone! and the light of all my life gone with her!<br> +A sudden darkness falls upon the world!<p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> News from the Prince!<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Of death or life?<br><p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> You put your questions eagerly!<br><p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Answer me, then! How is the Prince?<br><p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> I left him only two hours since<br> +Homeward returning down the river,<br> +As strong and well as if God, the Giver,<br> +Had given him back in his youth again.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula (despairing).</i> Then Elsie, my poor child, is dead!<br><p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> That, my good woman, I have not said.<br> +Don't cross the bridge till you come to it,<br> +Is a proverb old, and of excellent wit.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Keep me no longer in this pain!<br><p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> It is true your daughter is no more;--<br> +That is, the peasant she was before.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Alas! I am simple and lowly bred<br> +I am poor, distracted, and forlorn.<br> +And it is not well that you of the court<br> +Should mock me thus, and make a sport<br> +Of a joyless mother whose child is dead,<br> +For you, too, were of mother, born!<p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> Your daughter lives, and the Prince is well!<br> +You will learn ere long how it all befell.<br> +Her heart for a moment never failed;<br> +But when they reached Salerno's gate,<br> +The Prince's nobler self prevailed,<br> +And saved her for a nobler fate,<br> +And he was healed, in his despair,<br> +By the touch of St. Matthew's sacred bones;<br> +Though I think the long ride in the open air,<br> +That pilgrimage over stocks and stones,<br> +In the miracle must come in for a share!<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Virgin! who lovest the poor and lonely,<br> +If the loud cry of a mother's heart<br> +Can ever ascend to where thou art,<br> +Into thy blessed hands and holy<br> +Receive my prayer of praise and thanksgiving!<br> +Let the hands that bore our Saviour bear it<br> +Into the awful presence of God;<br> +For thy feet with holiness are shod,<br> +And if thou bearest it he will hear it.<br> +Our child who was dead again is living!<p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> I did not tell you she was dead;<br> +If you thought so 'twas no fault of mine;<br> +At this very moment, while I speak,<br> +They are sailing homeward down the Rhine,<br> +In a splendid barge, with golden prow,<br> +And decked with banners white and red<br> +As the colors on your daughter's cheek.<br> +They call her the Lady Alicia now;<br> +For the Prince in Salerno made a vow<br> +That Elsie only would he wed.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> Jesu Maria! what a change!<br> +All seems to me so weird and strange!<p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> I saw her standing on the deck,<br> +Beneath an awning cool and shady;<br> +Her cap of velvet could not hold<br> +The tresses of her hair of gold,<br> +That flowed and floated like the stream,<br> +And fell in masses down her neck.<br> +As fair and lovely did she seem<br> +As in a story or a dream<br> +Some beautiful and foreign lady.<br> +And the Prince looked so grand and proud,<br> +And waved his hand thus to the crowd<br> +That gazed and shouted from the shore,<br> +All down the river, long and loud.<p></p> + + <i>Ursula.</i> We shall behold our child once more;<br> +She is not dead! She is not dead!<br> +God, listening, must have overheard<br> +The prayers, that, without sound or word,<br> +Our hearts in secrecy have said!<br> +O, bring me to her; for mine eyes<br> +Are hungry to behold her face;<br> +My very soul within me cries;<br> +My very hands seem to caress her,<br> +To see her, gaze at her, and bless her;<br> +Dear Elsie, child of God and grace!<p></p> + + (<i>Goes out toward the garden.</i>)<br><p></p> + + <i>Forester.</i> There goes the good woman out of her head;<br> +And Gottlieb's supper is waiting here;<br> +A very capacious flagon of beer,<br> +And a very portentous loaf of bread.<br> +One would say his grief did not much oppress him.<br> +Here's to the health of the Prince, God bless him!<p></p> + + (<i>He drinks.</i>)<br><p></p> + +Ha! it buzzes and stings like a hornet!<br> +And what a scene there, through the door!<br> +The forest behind and the garden before,<br> +And midway an old man of threescore,<br> +With a wife and children that caress him.<br> +Let me try still further to cheer and adorn it<br> +With a merry, echoing blast of my cornet!<p></p> + + (<i>Goes out blowing his horn.</i>)<br> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>THE CASTLE OF VAUTSBERG ON THE RHINE.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +PRINCE HENRY <i>and</i> ELSIE <i>standing on the terrace at +evening. The sound of bells heard from a distance.</i><p></p> + + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> We are alone. The wedding guests<br> +Ride down the hill, with plumes and cloaks,<br> +And the descending dark invests<br> +The Niederwald, and all the nests<br> +Among its hoar and haunted oaks.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> What bells are those, that ring so slow,<br> +So mellow, musical, and low?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> They are the bells of Geisenheim,<br> +That with their melancholy chime<br> +Ring out the curfew of the sun.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Listen, beloved.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> They are done!<br> +Dear Elsie! many years ago<br> +Those same soft bells at eventide<br> +Rang in the ears of Charlemagne,<br> +As, seated by Fastrada's side<br> +At Ingelheim, in all his pride<br> +He heard their sound with secret pain.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Their voices only speak to me<br> +Of peace and deep tranquillity,<br> +And endless confidence in thee!<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Thou knowest the story of her ring,<br> +How, when the court went back to Aix,<br> +Fastrada died; and how the king<br> +Sat watching by her night and day,<br> +Till into one of the blue lakes,<br> +That water that delicious land,<br> +They cast the ring, drawn from her hand;<br> +And the great monarch sat serene<br> +And sad beside the fated shore,<br> +Nor left the land forever more.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> That was true love.<br><p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> For him the queen<br> +Ne'er did what thou hast done for me.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Wilt thou as fond and faithful be?<br> +Wilt thou so love me after death?<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> In life's delight, in death's dismay,<br> +In storm and sunshine, night and day,<br> +In health, in sickness, in decay,<br> +Here and hereafter, I am thine!<br> +Thou hast Fastrada's ring. Beneath<br> +The calm, blue waters of thine eyes<br> +Deep in thy steadfast soul it lies,<br> +And, undisturbed by this world's breath,<br> +With magic light its jewels shine!<br> +This golden ring, which thou hast worn<br> +Upon thy finger since the morn,<br> +Is but a symbol and a semblance,<br> +An outward fashion, a remembrance,<br> +Of what thou wearest within unseen,<br> +O my Fastrada, O my queen!<br> +Behold! the hilltops all aglow<br> +With purple and with amethyst;<br> +While the whole valley deep below<br> +Is filled, and seems to overflow,<br> +With a fast-rising tide of mist.<br> +The evening air grows damp and chill;<br> +Let us go in.<p></p> + + <i>Elsie.</i> Ah, not so soon.<br> +See yonder fire! It is the moon<br> +Slow rising o'er the eastern hill.<br> +It glimmers on the forest tips,<br> +And through the dewy foliage drips<br> +In little rivulets of light,<br> +And makes the heart in love with night.<p></p> + + <i>Prince Henry.</i> Oft on this terrace, when the day<br> +Was closing, have I stood and gazed,<br> +And seen the landscape fade away,<br> +And the white vapors rise and drown<br> +Hamlet and vineyard, tower and town<br> +While far above the hilltops blazed.<br> +But men another hand than thine<br> +Was gently held and clasped in mine;<br> +Another head upon my breast<br> +Was laid, as thine is now, at rest.<br> +Why dost thou lift those tender eyes<br> +With so much sorrow and surprise?<br> +A minstrel's, not a maiden's hand,<br> +Was that which in my own was pressed.<br> +A manly form usurped thy place,<br> +A beautiful, but bearded face,<br> +That now is in the Holy Land,<br> +Yet in my memory from afar<br> +Is shining on us like a star.<br> +But linger not. For while I speak,<br> +A sheeted spectre white and tall,<br> +The cold mist climbs the castle wall,<br> +And lays his hand upon thy cheek!<p></p> + + (<i>They go in.</i>)<br><p></p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> + +<h2>EPILOGUE.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<h2>THE TWO RECORDING ANGELS ASCENDING.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + <i>The Angel of Good Deeds</i> (<i>with closed book</i>). God sent his<br> + messenger the rain,<br> +And said unto the mountain brook,<br> +"Rise up, and from thy caverns look<br> +And leap, with naked, snow-white feet.<br> +From the cool hills into the heat<br> +Of the broad, arid plain."<p></p> + +God sent his messenger of faith,<br> +And whispered in the maiden's heart,<br> +"Rise up, and look from where thou art,<br> +And scatter with unselfish hands<br> +Thy freshness on the barren sands<br> +And solitudes of Death."<br> +O beauty of holiness,<br> +Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness!<br> +O power of meekness,<br> +Whose very gentleness and weakness<br> +Are like the yielding, but irresistible air!<br> +Upon the pages<br> +Of the sealed volume that I bear,<br> +The deed divine<br> +Is written in characters of gold,<br> +That never shall grow old,<br> +But all through ages<br> +Burn and shine,<br> +With soft effulgence!<br> +O God! it is thy indulgence<br> +That fills the world with the bliss<br> +Of a good deed like this!<p></p> + + <i>The Angel of Evil Deeds (with open book).</i> Not yet, not yet<br> +Is the red sun wholly set,<br> +But evermore recedes,<br> +While open still I bear<br> +The Book of Evil Deeds,<br> +To let the breathings of the upper air<br> +Visit its pages and erase<br> +The records from its face!<br> +Fainter and fainter as I gaze<br> +On the broad blaze<br> +The glimmering landscape shines,<br> +And below me the black river<br> +Is hidden by wreaths of vapor!<br> +Fainter and fainter the black lines<br> +Begin to quiver<br> +Along the whitening surface of the paper;<br> +Shade after shade<br> +The terrible words grow faint and fade,<br> +And in their place<br> +Runs a white space!<p></p> + +Down goes the sun!<br> +But the soul of one,<br> +Who by repentance<br> +Has escaped the dreadful sentence,<br> +Shines bright below me as I look.<br> +It is the end!<br> +With closed Book<br> +To God do I ascend.<p></p> + +Lo! over the mountain steeps<br> +A dark, gigantic shadow sweeps<br> +Beneath my feet;<br> +A blackness inwardly brightening<br> +With sullen heat,<br> +As a storm-cloud lurid with lightning.<br> +And a cry of lamentation,<br> +Repeated and again repeated,<br> +Deep and loud<br> +As the reverberation<br> +Of cloud answering unto cloud,<br> +Swells and rolls away in the distance,<br> +As if the sheeted<br> +Lightning retreated,<br> +Baffled and thwarted by the wind's resistance.<p></p> + +It is Lucifer,<br> +The son of mystery;<br> +And since God suffers him to be,<br> +He, too, is God's minister,<br> +And labors for some good<br> +By us not understood!<p></p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10490 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + + |