Part 9 (2/2)

_Walter_ (_embracing him_). Come closer, closer to my side!

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 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 In the equipments of a knight?

_Walter_. Dost thou not see upon my breast The cross of the Crusaders s.h.i.+ne?

My pathway leads to Palestine.

_Prince Henry_. Ah, would that way were also mine!

O n.o.ble 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 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!

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, 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 n.o.ble 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 a.s.semble 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sions that may grow Until they ripen into, crime!

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, 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 s.h.i.+ning 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.

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