II.

As one with pestilence infected!

Hubert.

Then was the family tomb unsealed,

And broken helmet, sword and shield,

Buried together, in common wreck,

As is the custom, when the last

Of any princely house has passed,

And thrice, as with a trumpet-blast,

A herald shouted down the stair

The words of warning and despair,--

"O Hoheneck! O Hoheneck!"

Walter

. Still in my soul that cry goes on,--

Forever gone! forever gone!

Ah, what a cruel sense of loss,

Like a black shadow, would fall across

The hearts of all, if he should die!

His gracious presence upon earth

Was as a fire upon a hearth;

As pleasant songs, at morning sung,

The words that dropped from his sweet tongue

Strengthened our hearts; or, heard at night,

Made all our slumbers soft and light.

Where is he?

Hubert.

In the Odenwald.

Some of his tenants, unappalled

By fear of death, or priestly word,--

A holy family, that make

Each meal a Supper of the Lord,--

Have him beneath their watch and ward,

For love of him, and Jesus' sake!

Pray you come in. For why should I

With outdoor hospitality

My prince's friend thus entertain?

Walter.

I would a moment here remain.

But you, good Hubert, go before,

Fill me a goblet of May-drink,

As aromatic as the May

From which it steals the breath away,

And which he loved so well of yore;

It is of him that I would think

You shall attend me, when I call,

In the ancestral banquet hall.

Unseen companions, guests of air,

You cannot wait on, will be there;

They taste not food, they drink not wine,

But their soft eyes look into mine,

And their lips speak to me, and all

The vast and shadowy banquet-hall

Is full of looks and words divine!

(

Leaning over the parapet

.)

The day is done; and slowly from the scene

The stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts,

And puts them back into his golden quiver!

Below me in the valley, deep and green

As goblets are, from which in thirsty draughts

We drink its wine, the swift and mantling river

Flows on triumphant through these lovely regions,

Etched with the shadows of its sombre margent,

And soft, reflected clouds of gold and argent!

Yes, there it flows, forever, broad and still,

As when the vanguard of the Roman legions

First saw it from the top of yonder hill!

How beautiful it is! Fresh fields of wheat,

Vineyard, and town, and tower with fluttering flag,

The consecrated chapel on the crag,

And the white hamlet gathered round its base,

Like Mary sitting at her Saviour's feet,

And looking up at his beloved face!

O friend! O best of friends! Thy absence more

Than the impending night darkens the landscape o'er!

A garden; morning;

PRINCE HENRY

seated, with a book

. ELSIE,

at a distance, gathering flowers.

Prince Henry (reading).

One morning, all alone,

Out of his convent of gray stone,

Into the forest older, darker, grayer,

His lips moving as if in prayer,

His head sunken upon his breast

As in a dream of rest,

Walked the Monk Felix. All about

The broad, sweet sunshine lay without,

Filling the summer air;

And within the woodlands as he trod,

The twilight was like the Truce of God

With worldly woe and care;

Under him lay the golden moss;

And above him the boughs of hemlock-tree

Waved, and made the sign of the cross,

And whispered their Benedicites;

And from the ground

Rose an odor sweet and fragrant

Of the wild flowers and the vagrant

Vines that wandered,

Seeking the sunshine, round and round.

These he heeded not, but pondered

On the volume in his hand,

A volume of Saint Augustine;

Wherein he read of the unseen

Splendors of God's great town

In the unknown land,

And, with his eyes cast down

In humility, he said:

"I believe, O God,

What herein I have read,

But alas! I do not understand!"

And lo! he heard

The sudden singing of a bird,

A snow-white bird, that from a cloud

Dropped down,

And among the branches brown

Sat singing

So sweet, and clear, and loud,

It seemed a thousand harp strings ringing.

And the Monk Felix closed his book,

And long, long,

With rapturous look,

He listened to the song,

And hardly breathed or stirred,

Until he saw, as in a vision,

The land Elysian,

And in the heavenly city heard

Angelic feet

Fall on the golden flagging of the street.

And he would fain

Have caught the wondrous bird,

But strove in vain;

For it flew away, away,

Far over hill and dell,

And instead of its sweet singing

He heard the convent bell

Suddenly in the silence ringing

For the service of noonday.

And he retraced

His pathway homeward sadly and in haste.

In the convent there was a change!

He looked for each well known face,

But the faces were new and strange;

New figures sat in the oaken stalls,

New voices chaunted in the choir,

Yet the place was the same place,

The same dusky walls

Of cold, gray stone,

The same cloisters and belfry and spire.

A stranger and alone

Among that brotherhood

The Monk Felix stood

"Forty years," said a Friar.

"Have I been Prior

Of this convent in the wood,

But for that space

Never have I beheld thy face!"

The heart of the Monk Felix fell:

And he answered with submissive tone,

"This morning, after the hour of Prime,

I left my cell,

And wandered forth alone,

Listening all the time

To the melodious singing

Of a beautiful white bird,

Until I heard

The bells of the convent ringing

Noon from their noisy towers,

It was as if I dreamed;

For what to me had seemed

Moments only, had been hours!"

"Years!" said a voice close by.

It was an aged monk who spoke,

From a bench of oak

Fastened against the wall;--

He was the oldest monk of all.

For a whole century

Had he been there,

Serving God in prayer,

The meekest and humblest of his creatures.

He remembered well the features

Of Felix, and he said,

Speaking distinct and slow:

"One hundred years ago,

When I was a novice in this place,

There was here a monk, full of God's grace,

Who bore the name

Of Felix, and this man must be the same."

And straightway

They brought forth to the light of day

A volume old and brown,

A huge tome, bound

With brass and wild-boar's hide,

Therein were written down

The names of all who had died

In the convent, since it was edified.

And there they found,

Just as the old monk said,

That on a certain day and date,

One hundred years before,

Had gone forth from the convent gate

The Monk Felix, and never more

Had entered that sacred door.

He had been counted among the dead!

And they knew, at last,

That, such had been the power

Of that celestial and immortal song,

A hundred years had passed,

And had not seemed so long

As a single hour!

(ELSIE

comes in with flowers.

)

Elsie.

Here are flowers for you,

But they are not all for you.

Some of them are for the Virgin

And for Saint Cecilia.

Prince Henry.

As thou standest there,

Thou seemest to me like the angel

That brought the immortal roses

To Saint Cecilia's bridal chamber.

Elsie.

But these will fade.

Prince Henry.

Themselves will fade,

But not their memory,

And memory has the power

To re-create them from the dust.

They remind me, too,

Of martyred Dorothea,

Who from celestial gardens sent

Flowers as her witnesses

To him who scoffed and doubted.

Elsie.

Do you know the story

Of Christ and the Sultan's daughter?

That is the prettiest legend of them all.

Prince Henry.

Then tell it to me.

But first come hither.

Lay the flowers down beside me.

And put both thy hands in mine.

Now tell me the story.

Elsie.

Early in the morning

The Sultan's daughter

Walked in her father's garden,

Gathering the bright flowers,

All full of dew.

Prince Henry.

Just as thou hast been doing

This morning, dearest Elsie.

Elsie.

And as she gathered them,

She wondered more and more

Who was the Master of the Flowers,

And made them grow

Out of the cold, dark earth.

"In my heart," she said,

"I love him; and for him

Would leave my father's palace,

To labor in his garden."

Prince Henry.

Dear, innocent child!

How sweetly thou recallest

The long-forgotten legend,

That in my early childhood

My mother told me!

Upon my brain

It reappears once more,

As a birth-mark on the forehead

When a hand suddenly

Is laid upon it, and removed!

Elsie.

And at midnight,

As she lay upon her bed,

She heard a voice

Call to her from the garden,

And, looking forth from her window,

She saw a beautiful youth

Standing among the flowers.

It was the Lord Jesus;

And she went down to him,

And opened the door for him;

And he said to her, "O maiden!

Thou hast thought of me with love,

And for thy sake


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