Section 4

s; He gave us the farm, the house, and the grange, He gave us the horses and the carts, And the great oxen in the stall, The vineyard, and the forest range! We have nothing to give him but our love!

Bertha. Did he give us the beautiful stork above On the chimney-top, with its large, round nest?

Gottlieb. No, not the stork; by God in heaven, As a blessing, the dear, white stork was given; But the Prince has given us all the rest. God bless him, and make him well again.

Elsie. Would I could do something for his sake, Something to cure his sorrow and pain!

Gottlieb. That no one can; neither thou nor I, Nor any one else.

Elsie. And must he die?

Ursula. Yes; if the dear God does not take Pity upon him, in his distress, And work a miracle!

Gottlieb. Or unless Some maiden, of her own accord, Offers her life for that of her lord, And is willing to die in his stead.

Elsie. I will!

Ursula. Prithee, thou foolish child, be still! Thou shouldst not say what thou dost not mean!

Elsie. I mean it truly!

Max. O father! this morning, Down by the mill, in the ravine, Hans killed a wolf, the very same That in the night to the sheepfold came, And ate up my lamb, that was left outside.

Gottlieb. I am glad he is dead. It will be a warning To the wolves in the forest, far and wide.

Max. And I am going to have his hide!

Bertha. I wonder if this is the wolf that ate Little Red Ridinghood!

Ursula. O, no! That wolf was killed a long while ago. Come, children, it is growing late.

Max. Ah, how I wish I were a man, As stout as Hans is, and as strong! I would do nothing else, the whole day long, But just kill wolves.

Gottlieb. Then go to bed, And grow as fast as a little boy can. Bertha is half asleep already. See how she nods her heavy head, And her sleepy feet are so unsteady She will hardly be able to creep upstairs.

Ursula. Good-night, my children. Here's the light. And do not forget to say your prayers Before you sleep.

Gottlieb. Good-night!

Max and Bertha. Good-night!

      (_They go out with_ ELSIE.)

Ursula, (spinning). She is a strange and wayward child, That Elsie of ours. She looks so old, And thoughts and fancies weird and wild Seem of late to have taken hold Of her heart, that was once so docile and mild!

Gottlieb. She is like all girls.

Ursula. Ah no, forsooth! Unlike all I have ever seen. For she has visions and strange dreams, And in all her words and ways, she seems Much older than she is in truth. Who would think her but fourteen? And there has been of late such a change! My heart is heavy with fear and doubt That she may not live till the year is out. She is so strange,--so strange,--so strange!

Gottlieb. I am not troubled with any such fear! She will live and thrive for many a year.

   *       *       *       *       *

ELSIE'S CHAMBER.

   *       *       *       *       *

Night. ELSIE praying.

Elsie. My Redeemer and my Lord, I beseech thee, I entreat thee, Guide me in each act and word, That hereafter I may meet thee, Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning, With my lamp well trimmed and burning!

Interceding With these bleeding Wounds upon thy hands and side, For all who have lived and erred Thou hast suffered, thou hast died, Scourged, and mocked, and crucified, And in the grave hast thou been buried!

If my feeble prayer can reach thee, O my Saviour, I beseech thee, Even as thou hast died for me, More sincerely Let me follow where thou leadest, Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest, Die, if dying I may give Life to one who asks to live, And more nearly, Dying thus, resemble thee!

   *       *       *       *       *

THE CHAMBER OF GOTTLIEB AND URSULA.

   *       *       *       *       *

Midnight. ELSIE standing by their bedside, weeping.

Gottlieb. The wind is roaring; the rushing rain Is loud upon roof and window-pane, As if the Wild Huntsman of Rodenstein, Boding evil to me and mine, Were abroad to-night with his ghostly train! In the brief lulls of the tempest wild, The dogs howl in the yard; and hark! Some one is sobbing in the dark, Here in the chamber!

Elsie. It is I.

Ursula. Elsie! what ails thee, my poor child?

Elsie. I am disturbed and much distressed, In thinking our dear Prince must die, I cannot close mine eyes, nor rest.

Gottlieb. What wouldst thou? In the Power Divine His healing lies, not in our own; It is in the hand of God alone.

Elsie. Nay, he has put it into mine, And into my heart!

Gottlieb. Thy words are wild!

Ursula. What dost thou mean? my child! my child!

Elsie. That for our dear Prince Henry's sake I will myself the offering make, And give my life to purchase his.

Ursula Am I still dreaming, or awake? Thou speakest carelessly of death, And yet thou knowest not what it is.

Elsie. 'T is the cessation of our breath. Silent and motionless we lie; And no one knoweth more than this. I saw our little Gertrude die, She left off breathing, and no more I smoothed the pillow beneath her head. She was more beautiful than before. Like violets faded were her eyes; By this we knew that she was dead. Through the open window looked the skies Into the chamber where she lay, And the wind was like the sound of wings, As if angels came to bear her away. Ah! when I saw and felt these things, I found it difficult to stay; I longed to die, as she had died, And go forth with her, side by side. The Saints are dead, the Martyrs dead, And Mary, and our Lord, and I Would follow in humility The way by them illumined!

Ursula. My child! my child! thou must not die!

Elsie Why should I live? Do I not know The life of woman is full of woe? Toiling on and on and on, With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, And silent lips, and in the soul The secret longings that arise, Which this world never satisfies! Some more, some less, but of the whole Not one quite happy, no, not one!

Ursula. It is the malediction of Eve!

Elsie. In place of it, let me receive The benediction of Mary, then.

Gottlieb. Ah, woe is me! Ah, woe is me! Most wretched am I among men!

Ursula. Alas! that I should live to see Thy death, beloved, and to stand Above thy grave! Ah, woe the day!

Elsie. Thou wilt not see it. I shall lie Beneath the flowers of another land, For at Salerno, far away Over the mountains, over the sea, It is appointed me to die! And it will seem no more to thee Than if at the village on market-day I should a little longer stay Than I am used.

Ursula. Even as thou sayest! And how my heart beats, when thou stayest! I cannot rest until my sight Is satisfied with seeing thee. What, then, if thou wert dead?

Gottlieb Ah me! Of our old eyes thou art the light! The joy of our old hearts art thou! And wilt thou die?

Ursula. Not now! not now!

Elsie Christ died for me, and shall not I Be willing for my Prince to die? You both are silent; you cannot speak. This said I, at our Saviour's feast, After confession, to the priest, And even he made no reply. Does he not warn us all to seek The happier, better land on high, Where flowers immortal never wither, And could he forbid me to go thither?

Gottlieb. In God's own time, my heart's delight! When he shall call thee, not before!

Elsie. I heard him call. When Christ ascended Triumphantly, from star to star, He left the gates of heaven ajar. I had a vision in the night, And saw him standing at the door Of his Father's mansion, vast and splendid, And beckoning to me from afar. I cannot stay!

Gottlieb. She speaks almost As if it were the Holy Ghost Spake through her lips, and in her stead! What if this were of God?

Ursula. Ah, then Gainsay it dare we not.

Gottlieb. Amen! Elsie! the words that thou hast said Are strange and new for us to hear, And fill our hearts with doubt and fear. Whether it be a dark temptation Of the Evil One, or God's inspiration, We in our blindness cannot say. We must think upon it, and pray; For evil and good in both resembles. If it be of God, his will be done! May he guard us from the Evil One! How hot thy hand is! how it trembles! Go to thy bed, and try to sleep.

Ursula. Kiss me. Good-night; and do not weep!

      (ELSIE _goes out._)

Ah, what an awful thing is this! I almost shuddered at her kiss. As if a ghost had touched my cheek, I am so childish and so weak! As soon as I see the earliest gray Of morning glimmer in the east, I will go over to the priest, And hear what the good man has to say!

   *       *       *       *       *

A VILLAGE CHURCH.

   *       *       *       *       *

_A woman kneeling at the confessional.

The Parish Priest (from within)_. Go, sin no more! Thy penance o'er, A new and better life begin! God maketh thee forever free From the dominion of thy sin! Go, sin no more! He will restore The peace that filled thy heart before, And pardon thine iniquity!

(The woman goes out. The Priest comes forth, and walks slowly up and down the church.)

O blessed Lord! how much I need Thy light to guide me on my way! So many hands, that, without heed, Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed! So many feet, that, day by day, Still wander from thy fold astray! Unless thou fill me with thy light, I cannot lead thy flock aright; Nor, without thy support, can bear The burden of so great a care, But am myself a castaway!

      (_A pause_.)

The day is drawing to its close; And what good deed