Thus it was we made our escape!
A foaming brook, with many a bound, Followed us like a playful hound;Then leaped before us, and in the hollow Paused, and waited for us to follow, And seemed impatient, and afraid That our tardy flight should be betrayed By the sound our horses' hoof-beats made.
And when we reached the plain below, We paused a moment and drew rein To look back at the castle again;And we saw the windows all aglow With lights, that were passing to and fro;Our hearts with terror ceased to beat;
The brook crept silent to our feet;
We knew what most we feared to know.
Then suddenly horns began to blow;
And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp, And our horses snorted in the damp Night-air of the meadows green and wide, And in a moment, side by side, So close, they must have seemed but one, The shadows across the moonlight run, And another came, and swept behind, Like the shadow of clouds before the wind!
How I remember that breathless flight Across the moors, in the summer night!
How under our feet the long, white road Backward like a river flowed, Sweeping with it fences and hedges, Whilst farther away and overhead, Paler than I, with fear and dread, The moon fled with us as we fled Along the forest's jagged edges!
All this I can remember well;
But of what afterwards befell I nothing further can recall Than a blind, desperate, headlong fall;The rest is a blank and darkness all.
When I awoke out of this swoon, The sun was shining, not the moon, Making a cross upon the wall With the bars of my windows narrow and tall;And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray From early childhood, day by day, Each morning, as in bed I lay!
I was lying again in my own room!
And I thanked God, in my fever and pain, That those shadows on the midnight plain Were gone, and could not come again!
I struggled no longer with my doom!
This happened many years ago.
I left my father's home to come Like Catherine to her martyrdom, For blindly I esteemed it so.
And when I heard the convent door Behind me close, to ope no more, I felt it smite me like a blow.
Through all my limbs a shudder ran, And on my bruised spirit fell The dampness of my narrow cell As night-air on a wounded man, Giving intolerable pain.
But now a better life began.
I felt the agony decrease By slow degrees, then wholly cease, Ending in perfect rest and peace!
It was not apathy, nor dulness, That weighed and pressed upon my brain, But the same passion I had given To earth before, now turned to heaven With all its overflowing fulness.
Alas! the world is full of peril!
The path that runs through the fairest meads, On the sunniest side of the valley, leads Into a region bleak and sterile!
Alike in the high-born and the lowly, The will is feeble, and passion strong.
We cannot sever right from wrong;
Some falsehood mingles with all truth;
Nor is it strange the heart of youth Should waver and comprehend but slowly The things that are holy and unholy!
But in this sacred, calm retreat, We are all well and safely shielded From winds that blow, and waves that beat, From the cold, and rain, and blighting heat, To which the strongest hearts have yielded.
Here we stand as the Virgins Seven, For our celestial bridegroom yearning;Our hearts are lamps forever burning, With a steady and unwavering flame, Pointing upward, forever the same, Steadily upward toward the heaven!
The moon is hidden behind a cloud;
A sudden darkness fills the room, And thy deep eyes, amid the gloom, Shine like jewels in a shroud.
On the leaves is a sound of falling rain;A bird, awakened in its nest, Gives a faint twitter of unrest, Then smooths its plumes and sleeps again.
No other sounds than these I hear;
The hour of midnight must be near.
Thou art o'erspent with the day's fatigue Of riding many a dusty league;Sink, then, gently to thy slumber;
Me so many cares encumber, So many ghosts, and forms of fright, Have started from their graves to-night, They have driven sleep from mine eyes away:
I will go down to the chapel and pray.
V.
A COVERED BRIDGE AT LUCERNE
PRINCE HENRY.
God's blessing on the architects who build The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses Before impassable to human feet, No less than on the builders of cathedrals, Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across The dark and terrible abyss of Death.
Well has the name of Pontifex been given Unto the Church's head, as the chief builder And architect of the invisible bridge That leads from earth to heaven.
ELSIE.
How dark it grows!
What are these paintings on the walls around us?
PRINCE HENRY.
The Dance Macaber!
ELSIE.
What?
PRINCE HENRY.
The Dance of Death!
All that go to and fro must look upon it, Mindful of what they shall be, while beneath, Among the wooden piles, the turbulent river Rushes, impetuous as the river of life, With dimpling eddies, ever green and bright, Save where the shadow of this bridge falls on it.
ELSIE.
Oh yes! I see it now!
PRINCE HENRY.
The grim musician Leads all men through the mazes of that dance, To different sounds in different measures moving;Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum, To tempt or terrify.
ELSIE.
What is this picture?
PRINCE HENRY.
It is a young man singing to a nun, Who kneels at her devotions, but in kneeling Turns round to look at him; and Death, meanwhile, Is putting out the candles on the altar!
ELSIE.
Ah, what a pity 't is that she should listen Unto such songs, when in her orisons She might have heard in heaven the angels singing!
PRINCE HENRY.
Here he has stolen a jester's cap and bells And dances with the Queen.
ELSIE.
A foolish jest!
PRINCE HENRY.
And here the heart of the new-wedded wife, Coming from church with her beloved lord, He startles with the rattle of his drum.
ELSIE.
Ah, that is sad! And yet perhaps 't is best That she should die, with all the sunshine on her, And all the benedictions of the morning, Before this affluence of golden light Shall fade into a cold and clouded gray, Then into darkness!
PRINCE HENRY.
Under it is written, "Nothing but death shall separate thee and me!"ELSIE.
And what is this, that follows close upon it?
PRINCE HENRY.
