The wrongs of ages are redressed, 275
And the justice of God made manifest!
LUCIFER.
In ancient records it is stated
That, whenever an evil deed is done,
Another devil is created
To scourge and torment the offending one! 280
But evil is only good perverted,
And Lucifer, the bearer of Light,
But an angel fallen and deserted,
Thrust from his Father’s house with a curse
Into the black and endless night. 285
PRINCE HENRY.
If justice rules the universe,
From the good actions of good men
Angels of light should be begotten,
And thus the balance restored again.
LUCIFER.
Yes; if the world were not so rotten, 290
And so given over to the Devil!
PRINCE HENRY.
But this deed, is it good or evil?
Have I thine absolution free
To do it, and without restriction?
LUCIFER.
Ay; and from whatsoever sin 295
Lieth around it and within,
From all crimes in which it may involve thee,
I now release thee and absolve thee!
PRINCE HENRY.
Give me thy holy benediction.
LUCIFER, stretching forth his hand and muttering.
Maledictione perpetua 300
Maledicat vos
Pater eternus!
THE ANGEL, with the æolian harp.
Take heed! take heed!
Noble art thou in thy birth,
By the good and the great of earth 305
Hast thou been taught!
Be noble in every thought
And in every deed!
Let not the illusion of thy senses
Betray thee to deadly offences. 310
Be strong! be good! be pure!
The right only shall endure,
All things else are but false pretences.
I entreat thee, I implore,
Listen no more 315
To the suggestions of an evil spirit,
That even now is there,
Making the foul seem fair,
And selfishness itself a virtue and a merit.
II.
VI. A Room in the Farm-House
GOTTLIEB.
IT is decided! For many days,
And nights as many, we have had
A nameless terror in our breast,
Making us timid, and afraid
Of God, and his mysterious ways! 5
We have been sorrowful and sad;
Much have we suffered, much have prayed
That he would lead us as is best,
And show us what his will required.
It is decided; and we give 10
Our child, O Prince, that you may live!
URSULA.
It is of God. He has inspired
This purpose in her; and through pain,
Out of a world of sin and woe,
He takes her to Himself again. 15
The mother’s heart resists no longer;
With the Angel of the Lord in vain
It wrestled, for he was the stronger.
GOTTLIEB.
As Abraham offered long ago
His son unto the Lord, and even 20
The Everlasting Father in heaven
Gave his, as a lamb unto the slaughter,
So do I offer up my daughter!
URSULA hides her face.
ELSIE.
My life is little,
Only a cup of water, 25
But pure and limpid.
Take it, O my Prince!
Let it refresh you,
Let it restore you.
It is given willingly, 30
It is given freely;
May God bless the gift!
PRINCE HENRY.
And the giver!
GOTTLIEB.
Amen!
PRINCE HENRY.
I accept it! 35
GOTTLIEB.
Where are the children?
URSULA.
They are already asleep.
GOTTLIEB.
What if they were dead?
II.
VII. In the Garden
ELSIE.
I HAVE one thing to ask of you.
PRINCE HENRY.
What is it?
It is already granted.
ELSIE.
Promise me,
When we are gone from here, and on our way
Are journeying to Salerno, you will not,
By word or deed, endeavor to dissuade me 5
And turn me from my purpose; but remember
That as a pilgrim to the Holy City
Walks unmolested, and with thoughts of pardon
Occupied wholly, so would I approach
The gates of Heaven, in this great jubilee, 10
With my petition, putting off from me
All thoughts of earth, as shoes from off my feet.
Promise me this.
PRINCE HENRY.
Thy words fall from thy lips
Like roses from the lips of Angelo: and angels
Might stoop to pick them up!
ELSIE.
Will you not promise? 15
PRINCE HENRY.
If ever we depart upon this journey,
So long to one or both of us, I promise.
ELSIE.
Shall we not go, then? Have you lifted me
Into the air, only to hurl me back
Wounded upon the ground? and offered me 20
The waters of eternal life, to bid me
Drink the polluted puddles of this world?
PRINCE HENRY.
O Elsie! what a lesson thou dost teach me!
The life which is, and that which is to come,
Suspended hang in such nice equipoise 25
A breath disturbs the balance; and that scale
In which we throw our hearts preponderates,
And the other, like and empty one, flies up,
And is accounted vanity and air!
To me the thought of death is terrible, 30
Having such hold on life. To thee it is not
So much even as the lifting of a latch;
Only a step into the open air
Out of a tent already luminous
With light that shines through its transparent walls! 35
O pure in heart! from thy sweet dust shall grow
Lilies, upon whose petals will be written
“Ave Maria” in characters of gold!
III.
I. A Street in Strasburg
Night. PRINCE HENRY wandering alone, wrapped in a cloak.
PRINCE HENRY.
STILL is the night. The sound of feet
Has died away from the empty street,
And like an artisan, bending down
His head on his anvil, the dark town
Sleeps, with a slumber deep and sweet. 5
Sleepless and restless, I alone,
In the dusk and damp of these walls of stone,
Wander and weep in my remorse!
CRIER OF THE DEAD, ringing a bell.
Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep! 10
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
PRINCE HENRY.
Hark! with what accents loud and hoarse
This warder on the walls of death
Sends forth the challenge of his breath! 15
I see the dead that sleep in the grave!
They rise up and their garments wave,
Dimly and spectral, as they rise,
With the light of another world in their eyes!
CRIER OF THE DEAD.
Wake! wake! 20
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
PRINCE
HENRY.
Why for the dead, who are at rest?
Pray for the living, in whose breast 25
The struggle between right and wrong
Is raging terrible and strong,
As when good angels war with devils!
This is the Master of the Revels,
Who, at Life’s flowing feast, proposes 30
The health of absent friends, and pledges,
Not in bright goblets crowned with roses,
And tinkling as we touch their edges,
But with his dismal, tinkling bell,
That mocks and mimics their funeral knell! 35
CRIER OF THE DEAD.
Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
PRINCE HENRY.
Wake not, beloved! be thy sleep 40
Silent as night is, and as deep!
There walks a sentinel at thy gate
Whose heart is heavy and desolate,
And the heavings of whose bosom number
The respirations of thy slumber, 45
As if some strange, mysterious fate
Had linked two hearts in one, and mine
Went madly wheeling about thine,
Only with wider and wilder sweep!
CRIER OF THE DEAD, at a distance.
Wake! wake! 50
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
PRINCE HENRY.
Lo! with what depth of blackness thrown
Against the clouds, far up the skies 55
The walls of the cathedral rise,
Like a mysterious grove of stone,
With fitful lights and shadows blending,
As from behind, the moon, ascending,
Lights its dim aisles and paths unknown! 60
The wind is rising; but the boughs
Rise not and fall not with the wind,
That through their foliage sobs and soughs;
Only the cloudy rack behind,
Drifting onward, wild and ragged, 65
Gives to each spire and buttress jagged
A seeming motion undefined.
Below on the square, an armàd knight,
Still as a statue and as white,
Sits on his steed, and the moonbeams quiver 70
Upon the points of his armor bright
As on the ripples of a river.
He lifts the visor from his cheek,
And beckons, and makes as he would speak.
WALTER the Minnesinger.
Friend! can you tell me where alight 75
Thuringia’s horsemen for the night?
For I have lingered in the rear,
And wander vainly up and down.
PRINCE HENRY.
I am a stranger in the town,
As thou art; but the voice I hear 80
Is not a stranger to mine ear.
Thou art Walter of the Vogelweid!
WALTER.
Thou hast guessed rightly; and thy name
Is Henry of Hoheneck!
PRINCE HENRY.
Ay, the same.
WALTER, embracing him.
Come closer, closer to my side! 85
What brings thee hither? What potent charm
Has drawn thee from thy German farm
Into the old Alsatian city?
PRINCE HENRY.
A tale of wonder and of pity!
A wretched man, almost by stealth 90
Dragging my body to Salern,
In the vain hope and search for health,
And destined never to return.
Already thou hast heard the rest.
But what brings thee, thus armed and dight 95
In the equipments of a knight?
WALTER.
Dost thou not see upon my breast
The cross of the Crusaders shine?
My pathway leads to Palestine.
PRINCE HENRY.
Ah, would that way were also mine! 100
O noble poet! thou whose heart
Is like a nest of singing-birds
Rocked on the topmost bough of life,
Wilt thou, too, from our sky depart,
And in the clangor of the strife 105
Mingle the music of thy words?
WALTER.
My hopes are high, my heart is proud,
And like a trumpet long and loud,
Thither my thoughts all clang and ring!
My life is in my hand, and lo! 110
I grasp and bend it as a bow,
And shoot forth from its trembling string
An arrow, that shall be, perchance,
Like the arrow of the Israelite king
Shot from the window toward the east, 115
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; 120
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. 125
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, 130
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. 135
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 140
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 145
To Hirschau, 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
Wake you to sin and crime again, 150
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; 155
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! 160
Sleep, sleep, O city! though within
The circuit of your walls there be
No habitation free from sin,
And all its nameless misery;
The aching heart, the aching head, 165
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! 170
III.
II. Square in Front of the Cathedral
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, w
hen 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, 5
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 10
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 15
Are but the Angel’s words divine,
“Christ is arisen!” and the bells
Catch the glad murmur, as it swells,
And chant together in their towers.
All hearts are glad; and free from care 20
The faces of the people shine.
See what a crowd is in the square,
Gayly and gallantly arrayed!
ELSIE.
Let us go back; I am afraid!
PRINCE HENRY.
Nay, let us mount the church-steps here, 25
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. 30
What is that yonder on the square?
PRINCE HENRY.
A pulpit in the open air,
And a Friar, who is preaching to the crowd
In a voice so deep and clear and loud,
That, if we listen, and give heed, 35
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. 40
Courier! what is the news, I pray?
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 101
