Section 7

elite king Shot from the window toward the east, That of the Lord's deliverance!

Prince Henry. My life, alas! is what thou seest! O enviable fate! to be Strong, beautiful, and armed like thee With lyre and sword, with song and steel; A hand to smite, a heart to feel! Thy heart, thy hand, thy lyre, thy sword, Thou givest all unto thy Lord, While I, so mean and abject grown, Am thinking of myself alone.

Walter. Be patient: Time will reinstate Thy health and fortunes.

Prince Henry. 'T is too late! I cannot strive against my fate!

Walter. Come with me; for my steed is weary; Our journey has been long and dreary, And, dreaming of his stall, he dints With his impatient hoofs the flints.

Prince Henry (aside). I am ashamed, in my disgrace, To look into that noble face! To-morrow, Walter, let it be.

Walter. To-morrow, at the dawn of day, I shall again be on my way Come with me to the hostelry, For I have many things to say. Our journey into Italy Perchance together we may make; Wilt thou not do it for my sake?

Prince Henry. A sick man's pace would but impede Thine eager and impatient speed. Besides, my pathway leads me round To Hirsehau, in the forest's bound, Where I assemble man and steed, And all things for my journey's need.

      (_They go out_. LUCIFER, _flying over the city_.)

Sleep, sleep, O city! till the light Wakes you to sin and crime again, Whilst on your dreams, like dismal rain, I scatter downward through the night My maledictions dark and deep. I have more martyrs in your walls Than God has; and they cannot sleep; They are my bondsmen and my thralls; Their wretched lives are full of pain, Wild agonies of nerve and brain; And every heart-beat, every breath, Is a convulsion worse than death! Sleep, sleep, O city! though within The circuit of your walls there lies No habitation free from sin, And all its nameless miseries; The aching heart, the aching head, Grief for the living and the dead, And foul corruption of the time, Disease, distress, and want, and woe, And crimes, and passions that may grow Until they ripen into, crime!

SQUARE IN FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL.

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Easter Sunday. FRIAR CUTHBERT preaching to the crowd from a pulpit in the open air. PRINCE HENRY and ELSIE crossing the square.

Prince Henry. This is the day, when from the dead Our Lord arose; and everywhere, Out of their darkness and despair, Triumphant over fears and foes, The hearts of his disciples rose, When to the women, standing near, The Angel in shining vesture said, 「The Lord is risen; he is not here!「 And, mindful that the day is come, On all the hearths in Christendom The fires are quenched, to be again Rekindled from the sun, that high Is dancing in the cloudless sky. The churches are all decked with flowers. The salutations among men Are but the Angel's words divine, 「Christ is arisen!「 and the bells Catch the glad murmur, as it swells, And chaunt together in their towers. All hearts are glad; and free from care The faces of the people shine. See what a crowd is in the square, Gaily and gallantly arrayed!

Elsie. Let us go back; I am afraid!

Prince Henry. Nay, let us mount the church-steps here, Under the doorway's sacred shadow; We can see all things, and be freer From the crowd that madly heaves and presses!

Elsie. What a gay pageant! what bright dresses! It looks like a flower besprinkled meadow. What is that yonder on the square?

Prince Henry A pulpit in the open air, And a Friar, who is preaching to the crowd With a voice so deep and clear and loud, That, if we listen, and give heed, His lowest words will reach the ear.

Friar Cuthbert (gesticulating and cracking a postilion's whip) What ho! good people! do you not hear? Dashing along at the top of his speed, Booted and spurred, on his jaded steed, A courier comes with words of cheer. Courier! what is the news, I pray? 「Christ is arisen!「 Whence come you? 「From court.「 Then I do not believe it; you say it in sport.

      (_Cracks his whip again._)

There comes another, riding this way; We soon shall know what he has to say. Courier! what are the tidings to-day? 「Christ is arisen!「 Whence come you? 「From town.「 Then I do not believe it; away with you, clown.

      (_Cracks his whip more violently._)

And here comes a third, who is spurring amain; What news do you bring, with your loose-hanging rein, Your spurs wet with blood, and your bridle with foam? 「Christ is arisen!「 Whence come you? 「From Rome.「 Ah, now I believe. He is risen, indeed. Ride on with the news, at the top of your speed!

      (_Great applause among the crowd._)

To come back to my text! When the news was first spread That Christ was arisen indeed from the dead, Very great was the joy of the angels in heaven; And as great the dispute as to who should carry The tidings, thereof to the Virgin Mary, Pierced to the heart with sorrows seven. Old Father Adam was first to propose, As being the author of all our woes; But he was refused, for fear, said they, He would stop to eat apples on the way! Abel came next, but petitioned in vain, Because he might meet with his brother Cain! Noah, too, was refused, lest his weakness for wine Should delay him at every tavern sign; And John the Baptist could not get a vote, On account of his old fashioned, camel's-hair coat; And the Penitent Thief, who died on the cross, Was reminded that all his bones were broken! Till at last, when each in turn had spoken, The company being still at a loss, The Angel, who had rolled away the stone, Was sent to the sepulchre, all alone, And filled with glory that gloomy prison, And said to the Virgin, 「The Lord is arisen!「

      (_The Cathedral bells ring_.)

But hark! the bells are beginning to chime; And I feel that I am growing hoarse. I will put an end to my discourse, And leave the rest for some other time. For the bells themselves are the best of preachers; Their brazen lips are learned teachers, From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air, Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw, Shriller than trumpets under the Law, Now a sermon and now a prayer. The clangorous hammer is the tongue, This way, that way, beaten and swung, That from mouth of brass, as from Mouth of Gold, May be taught the Testaments, New and Old. And above it the great crossbeam of wood Representeth the Holy Rood, Upon which, like the bell, our hopes are hung. And the wheel wherewith it is swayed and rung Is the mind of man, that round and round Sways, and maketh the tongue to sound! And the rope, with its twisted cordage three, Denoteth the Scriptural Trinity Of Morals, and Symbols, and History; And the upward and downward motions show That we touch upon matters high and low; And the constant change and transmutation Of action and of contemplation, Downward, the Scripture brought from on high, Upward, exalted again to the sky; Downward, the literal interpretation, Upward, the Vision and Mystery!

And now, my hearers, to make an end, I have only one word more to say; In the church, in honor of Easter day, Will be represented a Miracle Play; And I hope you will all have the grace to attend. Christ bring us at last So his felicity! Pax vobiscum! et Benedicite!

IN THE CATHEDRAL.

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CHAUNT. Kyrie Eleison! Christe Eleison!

Elsie. I am at home here in my Father's house! These paintings of the Saints upon the walls Have all familiar and benignant faces.

Prince Henry. The portraits of the family of God! Thine own hereafter shall be placed among them.

Elsie. How very grand it is and wonderful! Never have I beheld a church so splendid! Such columns, and such arches, and such windows, So many tombs and statues in the chapels, And under them so many confessionals. They must be for the rich. I should not like To tell my sins in such a church as this. Who built it?

Prince Henry. A great master of his craft, Erwin von Steinbach; but not he alone, For many generations labored with him. Children that came to see these Saints in stone, As day by day out of the blocks they rose, Grew old and died, and still the work went on, And on, and on, and is not yet completed. The generation that succeeds our own Perhaps may finish it. The architect Built his great heart into these sculptured stones, And with him toiled his children, and their lives Were builded, with his own, into the walls, As offerings unto God. You see that statue Fixing its joyous, but deep-wrinkled eyes Upon the Pillar of the Angels yonder. That is the image of the master, carved By the fair hand of his own child, Sabina.

Elsie. How beautiful is the column that he looks at!

Prince Henry. That, too, she sculptured. At the base of it Stand the Evangelists; above their heads Four Angels blowing upon marble trumpets, And over them the blessed Christ, surrounded By his attendant ministers, upholding The instruments of his passion.

Elsie. O my Lord! Would I could leave behind me upon earth Some monument to thy glory, such as this!

Prince Henry. A greater monument than this thou leavest In thine own life, all purity and love! See, too, the Rose, above the western portal Flamboyant with a thousand gorgeous colors, The perfect flower of Gothic loveliness!

Elsie. And, in the gallery, the long line of statues, Christ with his twelve Apostles watching us.

(A BISHOP _in armor, booted and spurred, passes