(He pauses a moment, then proceeds with more and more animation.)
(He pauses a moment, then proceeds with more and more animation.)
A gale had risen and the clouds that hungGray in the heavens when the chase began,Foamed, and, flying black before the winds,Grappled the woods and threw his thick, green hairInto the swirling rack of livid sky.Lightnings and thunders, winds and tumbling rocksCharged on the pack of dogs as though they wereDevils come up from Hell, and hurled them downInto the pit again. Under the beechWhere the white talbot had pulled down the buckBehold the miracle the Virgin wrought!Out of a dallop of green boughs that hungClose to the haunches of the hart appearedA pair of small pink hands that with one wrenchTore the hound's jaws apart. The deer rose upAs from a sleep, shook his brown coat and browsedThe succulent green twigs, then wandered offUp the dark mountain side, whilst like a starBetween the dim, dissolving antlers shoneA crucifix of silver, dripping blood.
A gale had risen and the clouds that hungGray in the heavens when the chase began,Foamed, and, flying black before the winds,Grappled the woods and threw his thick, green hairInto the swirling rack of livid sky.Lightnings and thunders, winds and tumbling rocksCharged on the pack of dogs as though they wereDevils come up from Hell, and hurled them downInto the pit again. Under the beechWhere the white talbot had pulled down the buckBehold the miracle the Virgin wrought!Out of a dallop of green boughs that hungClose to the haunches of the hart appearedA pair of small pink hands that with one wrenchTore the hound's jaws apart. The deer rose upAs from a sleep, shook his brown coat and browsedThe succulent green twigs, then wandered offUp the dark mountain side, whilst like a starBetween the dim, dissolving antlers shoneA crucifix of silver, dripping blood.
(Several shutters in the second story have opened and facesare seen white in the glare of the torch. Old Andrew,frightened, has drawn back in the shadow against thewall.)
(Several shutters in the second story have opened and facesare seen white in the glare of the torch. Old Andrew,frightened, has drawn back in the shadow against thewall.)
Lo, then a sight such as I hope our LordWill visit to these dying eyes of mineIn their last hour. The louring mountain browsBrightened beneath a drift of golden feet,And wings waved in the air, and faces bloomedIn the edding sky, and the dark towering ridge,Lifting its weight of crags above the storm,Sloughed off its shadow, and the field of pines,Like a green army climbing to the cloudsOut of the darkness of the dale below,Shook their victorious plumes, and every rock,Tree, bush, and vine, and weed, and flower sent upVoices of joy till all the mountains rang.
Lo, then a sight such as I hope our LordWill visit to these dying eyes of mineIn their last hour. The louring mountain browsBrightened beneath a drift of golden feet,And wings waved in the air, and faces bloomedIn the edding sky, and the dark towering ridge,Lifting its weight of crags above the storm,Sloughed off its shadow, and the field of pines,Like a green army climbing to the cloudsOut of the darkness of the dale below,Shook their victorious plumes, and every rock,Tree, bush, and vine, and weed, and flower sent upVoices of joy till all the mountains rang.
Leo—"I say unto you that joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that returneth."
Leo—"I say unto you that joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that returneth."
Voice—(From the second story.)Who is the sinner?Macias—(Calling up.) Are all the brothers in?Voice—(Calling.) Oswald!Another— Ask Pierre.Another—(Far within.) He has not returned. (A pause.)Another—He may have stayed with Father Benedict.He finishes to-morrow.Soloman— Tell this dreamTo the Abbot.(The hunter disappears round the corner.)A Voice— Let us hear what Father says.Another—Oswald is girt about with prophesy.Another—Fiends cannot harm him.Another— Jesus is with him.
Voice—(From the second story.)Who is the sinner?
Macias—(Calling up.) Are all the brothers in?
Voice—(Calling.) Oswald!
Another— Ask Pierre.
Another—(Far within.) He has not returned. (A pause.)
Another—He may have stayed with Father Benedict.He finishes to-morrow.
Soloman— Tell this dreamTo the Abbot.(The hunter disappears round the corner.)
A Voice— Let us hear what Father says.
Another—Oswald is girt about with prophesy.
Another—Fiends cannot harm him.
Another— Jesus is with him.
(The shutters are closed hurriedly.)
(The shutters are closed hurriedly.)
Andrew—(Alone.)The Devil is a big, long-legged crane,Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs,Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray.
Andrew—(Alone.)The Devil is a big, long-legged crane,Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs,Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray.
(He shields his flickering taper with his gown and makeshis way across the court toward the chapel.)
(He shields his flickering taper with his gown and makeshis way across the court toward the chapel.)
SCENE FOUR—A desolate mountain road along the topof a cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood.Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, andupon the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro.From the left, past some bushes which almost hide theroad from view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying themonk, Oswald, limp in his arms. The latter's face is soemaciated that one would never recognize him as thesame person as was seen in the forest some three yearsago. His feet, upon which are heavy wooden shoes, dragalong the road. Suddenly from somewhere in his clothingthe large silver crucifix falls to the ground. The dwarfstoops, and, resting the monk upon his knee, reaches downand secures the crucifix, which he puts between his teeth.Then, having gotten a new hold, he rises and, with difficulty,makes his way up the road.
SCENE FOUR—A desolate mountain road along the topof a cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood.Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, andupon the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro.From the left, past some bushes which almost hide theroad from view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying themonk, Oswald, limp in his arms. The latter's face is soemaciated that one would never recognize him as thesame person as was seen in the forest some three yearsago. His feet, upon which are heavy wooden shoes, dragalong the road. Suddenly from somewhere in his clothingthe large silver crucifix falls to the ground. The dwarfstoops, and, resting the monk upon his knee, reaches downand secures the crucifix, which he puts between his teeth.Then, having gotten a new hold, he rises and, with difficulty,makes his way up the road.
SCENE ONE—A grassy ledge far up on the mountainside. Tall pine trunks rise here and there. Down theslope, to the left, are russet tops of small oaks newlyleaved. To the right, a rocky acclivity of about thirtydegrees elevation with scattered bushes and a sheep pathwinding back and up. In the distance, a blue range ofmountains with their bases buried in the white mists ofearly morning.Some distance back from where the path comes downupon the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals.Brown feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upona rock near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, withhis face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with ashepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comesa tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side.TIME—Two days later.
SCENE ONE—A grassy ledge far up on the mountainside. Tall pine trunks rise here and there. Down theslope, to the left, are russet tops of small oaks newlyleaved. To the right, a rocky acclivity of about thirtydegrees elevation with scattered bushes and a sheep pathwinding back and up. In the distance, a blue range ofmountains with their bases buried in the white mists ofearly morning.
Some distance back from where the path comes downupon the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals.Brown feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upona rock near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, withhis face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with ashepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comesa tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side.
TIME—Two days later.
Fritz—I was with Canzler when the boy climbed upAmong the rocks and handed it to him.Conrad—What does it look like?Fritz— It's as long as that,
Fritz—I was with Canzler when the boy climbed upAmong the rocks and handed it to him.
Conrad—What does it look like?
Fritz— It's as long as that,
(Indicating on his staff.)
(Indicating on his staff.)
And blue as the waters of the tarn down there.Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' headsAnd, twisted round the blade in coil on coil,A serpent in the talons of the birdsForms the cross piece upon the lower haft.On the blade between the coils what may be runesAre cut in characters of some unknown tongue;At least, no man has ever made them out.Conrad—Where could the boy have gotten it?Fritz— No one knows.Turn the bird over.Conrad— It is not brown yet.Fritz—There is something magical about it all.In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand,But when the sky is overcast with cloudsOr in the shade of rock or tree no manWith all his might can bend it, and it slipsThrough tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf.Conrad—The boy himself, what did he say?Fritz— He vanished.Conrad— Eh?Fritz—When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone.Conrad—And have you seen him since?Fritz— Where is your bread?Conrad—I have some here.(He reaches up into the bag.)Has no one seen him since?Fritz—He was out on the mountains every dayBefore, either by the abbey over thereOr climbing in the vines above the tarn,But always in the shade of rock or tree.When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud.No one has seen him since he disappeared.Conrad—(Laying the bread upon the grass.)You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing,Of how Val-father wanders over the earthIn human form—Fritz— That is what Rudolph says;Val-father turns his dark side to the earth.Conrad—And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees.Fritz—Rudolph insists that Oswald will return.He says that Selma learned it from the trees.She listens in the forest all day longAnd when the wind is loud and the boughs sway—Conrad—How could he ever find us here?Fritz— I seeHow that could be; Woden knows where we are,And where he turns his face the way is clear.Conrad—Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face.Fritz—Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell,And he came back, for Woden in his mindDirected him and—Here comes Canzler now.Conrad—Is that the sword.Fritz— Yes.Conrad— What was that he said?Fritz—He must be going down to see the priest.
And blue as the waters of the tarn down there.Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' headsAnd, twisted round the blade in coil on coil,A serpent in the talons of the birdsForms the cross piece upon the lower haft.On the blade between the coils what may be runesAre cut in characters of some unknown tongue;At least, no man has ever made them out.
Conrad—Where could the boy have gotten it?
Fritz— No one knows.Turn the bird over.
Conrad— It is not brown yet.
Fritz—There is something magical about it all.In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand,But when the sky is overcast with cloudsOr in the shade of rock or tree no manWith all his might can bend it, and it slipsThrough tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf.
Conrad—The boy himself, what did he say?
Fritz— He vanished.
Conrad— Eh?
Fritz—When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone.
Conrad—And have you seen him since?
Fritz— Where is your bread?
Conrad—I have some here.(He reaches up into the bag.)Has no one seen him since?
Fritz—He was out on the mountains every dayBefore, either by the abbey over thereOr climbing in the vines above the tarn,But always in the shade of rock or tree.When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud.No one has seen him since he disappeared.
Conrad—(Laying the bread upon the grass.)You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing,Of how Val-father wanders over the earthIn human form—
Fritz— That is what Rudolph says;Val-father turns his dark side to the earth.
Conrad—And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees.
Fritz—Rudolph insists that Oswald will return.He says that Selma learned it from the trees.She listens in the forest all day longAnd when the wind is loud and the boughs sway—
Conrad—How could he ever find us here?
Fritz— I seeHow that could be; Woden knows where we are,And where he turns his face the way is clear.
Conrad—Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face.
Fritz—Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell,And he came back, for Woden in his mindDirected him and—Here comes Canzler now.
Conrad—Is that the sword.
Fritz— Yes.
Conrad— What was that he said?
Fritz—He must be going down to see the priest.
(With the sword at his side and wearing a cap made of awild-cat's skin, its head upon his head and the rest ofthe skin hanging down his back, Canzler comes downthe sheep path, followed by Rudolph.)
(With the sword at his side and wearing a cap made of awild-cat's skin, its head upon his head and the rest ofthe skin hanging down his back, Canzler comes downthe sheep path, followed by Rudolph.)
Canzler—More than two years have passed and not a wordWas ever said to throw the claim in doubt;But now that Hartzel is about to dieThey think to get the whole tract for the Church,Upon the ground that he who sold the landTo Hartzel was apostate to their Faith.Rudolph—They don't deny that the man owned the land?Canzler—He owned the land till he disowned the FaithAnd by that act he dispossessed himself,And then, they say, the land reverted to God.Rudolph—And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert?Canzler—That is a matter between infidels,And proves, when they rob one another so,There is no honesty outside the Faith.Rudolph—The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh?Canzler—If knavery is all outside the Faith.Conrad—Will you men have some breakfast?Rudolph— And did theyTell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land?Canzler—"All land is God's, and pagans have no rightTo own it," was the answer that he got.That was a month ago, though. When they foundThat the wind passed and still the fruit hung on,Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight.They waited until yesterday and thenUnexpectedly they bumped the tree.Hartzel should hold possession during life—He is about to die—and at his deathThe Church should take the burden of the estateFrom his dead shoulders, and carry it without chargeAnd with it save his soul from Hell.Rudolph— And saveHis children—?Canzler— From the path that leads to Hell.Rudolph—Is that their proposition?Canzler— That is it.The old man in despair appealed to me.Rudolph—What are you going to tell them, Canzler?Canzler—What am I going to tell them? Tell them whatVal-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks,The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live.Woden, who made all things, made each to beDifferent from the rest. He made the oakTo bear its acorns and the pine its cones.The mole to burrow and the fox to run,The eagle to hatch her brood upon the cragUnder the sun, the bat, in the dark cave.The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh,And each to go its own particular wayUpon a path as separate and clearAs are the curves and risings of the stars.
Canzler—More than two years have passed and not a wordWas ever said to throw the claim in doubt;But now that Hartzel is about to dieThey think to get the whole tract for the Church,Upon the ground that he who sold the landTo Hartzel was apostate to their Faith.
Rudolph—They don't deny that the man owned the land?
Canzler—He owned the land till he disowned the FaithAnd by that act he dispossessed himself,And then, they say, the land reverted to God.
Rudolph—And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert?
Canzler—That is a matter between infidels,And proves, when they rob one another so,There is no honesty outside the Faith.
Rudolph—The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh?
Canzler—If knavery is all outside the Faith.
Conrad—Will you men have some breakfast?
Rudolph— And did theyTell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land?
Canzler—"All land is God's, and pagans have no rightTo own it," was the answer that he got.That was a month ago, though. When they foundThat the wind passed and still the fruit hung on,Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight.They waited until yesterday and thenUnexpectedly they bumped the tree.Hartzel should hold possession during life—He is about to die—and at his deathThe Church should take the burden of the estateFrom his dead shoulders, and carry it without chargeAnd with it save his soul from Hell.
Rudolph— And saveHis children—?
Canzler— From the path that leads to Hell.
Rudolph—Is that their proposition?
Canzler— That is it.The old man in despair appealed to me.
Rudolph—What are you going to tell them, Canzler?
Canzler—What am I going to tell them? Tell them whatVal-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks,The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live.Woden, who made all things, made each to beDifferent from the rest. He made the oakTo bear its acorns and the pine its cones.The mole to burrow and the fox to run,The eagle to hatch her brood upon the cragUnder the sun, the bat, in the dark cave.The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh,And each to go its own particular wayUpon a path as separate and clearAs are the curves and risings of the stars.
(Fritz and Conrad come forward.)
(Fritz and Conrad come forward.)
He made no bell to ring all things that liveTo sameness in their lives or in their thought.To keep them, as he made them, different,He gave to each an individual tasteAnd matched the taste within with that withoutWhich, when the two meet, the result is joy.Joy is the voice of each thing as it movesToward Woden on the path that he laid out.The eagle finds its way without a guideTo Woden, and the stars without a guide,Each in its own light, and all things that live,From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun,Follow their joy and come at last to him.The eagle's right to go the eagle's wayIs not conditioned by another thingSave by the fact alone that it is so:That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings.And so with man. To what man has a right,He has a right because he is a manAnd not because he is a kind of man.Val-father's bells have each a different tone.You cannot make the million aisles that leadTo him one aisle and drive all things through that,Or make the right of each to be and to haveRest on its answering a particular bell.If we admit their principle that Faith,Or anything outside the fact that oneIs a man, is the basis of the rights of man,We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and diedFor a lie, if this be true. For when the SouthPushed through the Frankish forest with her swordBetween her teeth, and stained with blood, and heldHer hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this,"Our fathers chose the darkness of the graveFrom the red hand, and left the black hand filledWith that which now to keep itself aliveEats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us.When the great night came on and they laid downUnder their battered shields and broken swords,The trees have told us what their last word was:"The northern air will kill the southern lie;Then we will come again. Remember this."Fritz—And here we are.Canzler— It may not be dawn yet,But some are up before the light.Fritz— And allThe dead will rise when Balder comes.Rudolph— But nowVal-father has his dark side to the earth,And works in his own shadow.Fritz— But the dawnWill reach down and lift Balder out of Hell.Conrad—(Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt.)If we concede to every man the right,As you say, Canzler, to his own belief,We must concede to the villagers the rightTo their belief that they own Hartzel's land.Canzler—We do concede it.Rudolph— Their right to their belief.But not their right to Hartzel's land.Canzler— With themMen are God's vassals, and the land they hold,They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith.Rudolph—And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land.Fritz—And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land.Conrad—(Walking aside.)And when they have no Faith, they have no land.
He made no bell to ring all things that liveTo sameness in their lives or in their thought.To keep them, as he made them, different,He gave to each an individual tasteAnd matched the taste within with that withoutWhich, when the two meet, the result is joy.Joy is the voice of each thing as it movesToward Woden on the path that he laid out.The eagle finds its way without a guideTo Woden, and the stars without a guide,Each in its own light, and all things that live,From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun,Follow their joy and come at last to him.The eagle's right to go the eagle's wayIs not conditioned by another thingSave by the fact alone that it is so:That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings.And so with man. To what man has a right,He has a right because he is a manAnd not because he is a kind of man.Val-father's bells have each a different tone.You cannot make the million aisles that leadTo him one aisle and drive all things through that,Or make the right of each to be and to haveRest on its answering a particular bell.If we admit their principle that Faith,Or anything outside the fact that oneIs a man, is the basis of the rights of man,We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and diedFor a lie, if this be true. For when the SouthPushed through the Frankish forest with her swordBetween her teeth, and stained with blood, and heldHer hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this,"Our fathers chose the darkness of the graveFrom the red hand, and left the black hand filledWith that which now to keep itself aliveEats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us.When the great night came on and they laid downUnder their battered shields and broken swords,The trees have told us what their last word was:"The northern air will kill the southern lie;Then we will come again. Remember this."
Fritz—And here we are.
Canzler— It may not be dawn yet,But some are up before the light.
Fritz— And allThe dead will rise when Balder comes.
Rudolph— But nowVal-father has his dark side to the earth,And works in his own shadow.
Fritz— But the dawnWill reach down and lift Balder out of Hell.
Conrad—(Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt.)If we concede to every man the right,As you say, Canzler, to his own belief,We must concede to the villagers the rightTo their belief that they own Hartzel's land.
Canzler—We do concede it.
Rudolph— Their right to their belief.But not their right to Hartzel's land.
Canzler— With themMen are God's vassals, and the land they hold,They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith.
Rudolph—And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land.
Fritz—And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land.
Conrad—(Walking aside.)And when they have no Faith, they have no land.
(He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in the sunlight.)
(He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in the sunlight.)
Canzler—Try that one in the shade there.
Canzler—Try that one in the shade there.
(The sword passes deeply into the second trunk.)
(The sword passes deeply into the second trunk.)
Fritz— Is it through?Conrad—(Looking behind the trunk.)More than a hand's breadth.Fritz— If the village dogsSnap at you as they are wont to—Canzler— I shall haveNo trouble with them.Fritz— And yet you expectTo tell them what you said just—Canzler— I expectHartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad.Rudolph—The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man.Canzler—I have no business with the Bailiff.Rudolph— Still,To reach the church, you must pass through the street.Canzler—Is it too narrow for two men to pass?
Fritz— Is it through?
Conrad—(Looking behind the trunk.)More than a hand's breadth.
Fritz— If the village dogsSnap at you as they are wont to—
Canzler— I shall haveNo trouble with them.
Fritz— And yet you expectTo tell them what you said just—
Canzler— I expectHartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad.
Rudolph—The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man.
Canzler—I have no business with the Bailiff.
Rudolph— Still,To reach the church, you must pass through the street.
Canzler—Is it too narrow for two men to pass?
(He receives the sword and goes left.)
(He receives the sword and goes left.)
Rudolph—For two such men as you two are, it is.Fritz—With swords on thighs.Conrad—(Walking back toward the fire.)The hilts might knock.Fritz—(Following him.) Or blades.Voice of Selma—(Above.)I'm going with you, Father!Canzler— No, Selma;You—Selma—(Who comes running down the path.)Just to the dingle; the faries sayThe heather-bells are out.Rudolph— Let her go, Canzler.Canzler—Throw the white blooms away.Selma—(Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood.)Now may I go?Canzler—They make you sad.(He starts down the slope.)Selma— I'll not cry any more.I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go.
Rudolph—For two such men as you two are, it is.
Fritz—With swords on thighs.
Conrad—(Walking back toward the fire.)The hilts might knock.
Fritz—(Following him.) Or blades.
Voice of Selma—(Above.)I'm going with you, Father!
Canzler— No, Selma;You—
Selma—(Who comes running down the path.)Just to the dingle; the faries sayThe heather-bells are out.
Rudolph— Let her go, Canzler.
Canzler—Throw the white blooms away.
Selma—(Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood.)Now may I go?
Canzler—They make you sad.(He starts down the slope.)
Selma— I'll not cry any more.I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go.
(She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph, who nods toher. Then, skipping forward, she takes hold of the hiltof her father's sword and steadies herself with it as theygo down the slope.)
(She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph, who nods toher. Then, skipping forward, she takes hold of the hiltof her father's sword and steadies herself with it as theygo down the slope.)
Conrad—Come back and have a woodcock.
Conrad—Come back and have a woodcock.
(Rudolph walks back.)
(Rudolph walks back.)
Fritz— There he goes.(Shouting.)O Canzler!Conrad— He don't hear you.Rudolph— Who?Conrad— The Priest.Rudolph—Which way is he?Fritz— Riding down toward town.
Fritz— There he goes.(Shouting.)O Canzler!
Conrad— He don't hear you.
Rudolph— Who?
Conrad— The Priest.
Rudolph—Which way is he?
Fritz— Riding down toward town.
(Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand looking offleft.)
(Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand looking offleft.)
Conrad—(Directing Rudolph.)Up that way from the Abbey.Fritz— I bet he's beenBack to see Hartzel. (Shouting.) Canzler!Conrad— He can't hear.
Conrad—(Directing Rudolph.)Up that way from the Abbey.
Fritz— I bet he's beenBack to see Hartzel. (Shouting.) Canzler!
Conrad— He can't hear.
SCENE TWO—The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scenethree of the second act. The large crucifix which wasseen in the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door ofthe chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glasswindow, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration,the nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer withblood dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behindthe saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood uponits tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presentingthe saint with golden cups. The deer is watching them.Several rude benches of stone are ranged alongside of thedormitory. In the rear, about ten feet back from thebuilding, a low stone wall extends across, passing behindthe dormitory on the one side and the chapel on the other.To the left, far back, is seen the side of the mountain onwhich the abbey stands. The upper part is thickly wooded,and below, where the timber is sparse, a road winds downthe cliff to the village. Farther down, the slope becomesmore precipitous and is covered with bowlders andstunted evergreens, some of which have been broken offby rocks tumbling from the cliff above. Off to the right,a space of sky with the snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight.To the left in the last Scene, they are now far tothe right.From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely andPierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspendedfrom his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a smallwooden crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra.They come out talking.
SCENE TWO—The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scenethree of the second act. The large crucifix which wasseen in the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door ofthe chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glasswindow, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration,the nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer withblood dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behindthe saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood uponits tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presentingthe saint with golden cups. The deer is watching them.Several rude benches of stone are ranged alongside of thedormitory. In the rear, about ten feet back from thebuilding, a low stone wall extends across, passing behindthe dormitory on the one side and the chapel on the other.To the left, far back, is seen the side of the mountain onwhich the abbey stands. The upper part is thickly wooded,and below, where the timber is sparse, a road winds downthe cliff to the village. Farther down, the slope becomesmore precipitous and is covered with bowlders andstunted evergreens, some of which have been broken offby rocks tumbling from the cliff above. Off to the right,a space of sky with the snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight.To the left in the last Scene, they are now far tothe right.
From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely andPierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspendedfrom his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a smallwooden crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra.They come out talking.
Ely—For he was old and he had come four miles.Pierre—A cripple too! When was this?Ely— Yesterday.And when I showed him this and said: "Good man,Here is a rood he carved with his own hands,"Light filled his eyes.Pierre— And had he come so far?
Ely—For he was old and he had come four miles.
Pierre—A cripple too! When was this?
Ely— Yesterday.And when I showed him this and said: "Good man,Here is a rood he carved with his own hands,"Light filled his eyes.
Pierre— And had he come so far?
(Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of thedormitory.)
(Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of thedormitory.)
Ely—(Turning back.)I must be at the gate when father comes—Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up.He must have seen a wing flash in the sky,For his face brightened with the light of faith,And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower.Pierre—What did you do?Ely— I asked him to kneel down.Oh, what a power there is in holy things!No sooner had I touched him with the roodThan like a plant he rose up from the stonesAnd blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!"And down the mountain ran shouting for joy.Pierre—The Holy Virgin bless us!Ely— Yes, he did;Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared,Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stoodFrightened as though an angel hovered nearIn the blue sky.Pierre— Oh, I have felt it too!These two days have to me been like a dreamAnd I am dizzy as on some high place.At night I feel the stars are not far off,And when I wake, it seems to me the dawnIs breaking far below us on the world.So near we are to that which lights the sun,(He holds up the candelabra.)These candles, if I should dare to speak the word,Would burst out into flame.Ely— Pierre!Pierre—(Still looking up.) Oh, surely,Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up,Lifted our abbey too, and we are closeTo heaven. Perhaps about us in the airAre voices and the wings of those that hearOur very whispers,—martyrs, saints, Saint Giles.Ely—You make it terrible to live in flesh.Pierre—Oh, terrible! It is terrible to liveWhere every word drops in an angel's ear.I feel that every breath should be a prayer.Ely—I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace—Pierre—Are but the sparks of power.
Ely—(Turning back.)I must be at the gate when father comes—Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up.He must have seen a wing flash in the sky,For his face brightened with the light of faith,And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower.
Pierre—What did you do?
Ely— I asked him to kneel down.Oh, what a power there is in holy things!No sooner had I touched him with the roodThan like a plant he rose up from the stonesAnd blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!"And down the mountain ran shouting for joy.
Pierre—The Holy Virgin bless us!
Ely— Yes, he did;Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared,Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stoodFrightened as though an angel hovered nearIn the blue sky.
Pierre— Oh, I have felt it too!These two days have to me been like a dreamAnd I am dizzy as on some high place.At night I feel the stars are not far off,And when I wake, it seems to me the dawnIs breaking far below us on the world.So near we are to that which lights the sun,(He holds up the candelabra.)These candles, if I should dare to speak the word,Would burst out into flame.
Ely— Pierre!
Pierre—(Still looking up.) Oh, surely,Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up,Lifted our abbey too, and we are closeTo heaven. Perhaps about us in the airAre voices and the wings of those that hearOur very whispers,—martyrs, saints, Saint Giles.
Ely—You make it terrible to live in flesh.
Pierre—Oh, terrible! It is terrible to liveWhere every word drops in an angel's ear.I feel that every breath should be a prayer.
Ely—I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace—
Pierre—Are but the sparks of power.
(He starts toward the chapel.)
(He starts toward the chapel.)
Ely— Mere sparks, you think?These healings and this rescue from the gulch,Mere sparks?Pierre— Simply the scattered beams.Ely— And yet,The same great light hath kindled one and all.Is it not so?Pierre— All these will vanish when—Ely—Tell me. Go on.Pierre— When the full orb shall burst.Ely—What do you mean?Pierre—(Mounting the steps.) I dare not speak it.Ely— Brother!Pierre—Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb,And little beams flash on us from the chinks,But the full glory, flooding all the vault,Awaits the angel.Ely— Is it the dream you mean?Pierre—No one must ever tell him, Father says.Ely—You think then that the dream will be fulfilled?That it is Oswald whom the hounds of HellWill chase up some vast mountain of the soul?Pierre—Soon the stone will stir.(He enters the chapel.)Ely— Pierre!
Ely— Mere sparks, you think?These healings and this rescue from the gulch,Mere sparks?
Pierre— Simply the scattered beams.
Ely— And yet,The same great light hath kindled one and all.Is it not so?
Pierre— All these will vanish when—
Ely—Tell me. Go on.
Pierre— When the full orb shall burst.
Ely—What do you mean?
Pierre—(Mounting the steps.) I dare not speak it.
Ely— Brother!
Pierre—Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb,And little beams flash on us from the chinks,But the full glory, flooding all the vault,Awaits the angel.
Ely— Is it the dream you mean?
Pierre—No one must ever tell him, Father says.
Ely—You think then that the dream will be fulfilled?That it is Oswald whom the hounds of HellWill chase up some vast mountain of the soul?
Pierre—Soon the stone will stir.(He enters the chapel.)
Ely— Pierre!
(While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will reappear, loudlaughter breaks from the open door of the dormitory,and Simon and Basil come sprawling out. The formeris pulling at a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger,and he starts left.)
(While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will reappear, loudlaughter breaks from the open door of the dormitory,and Simon and Basil come sprawling out. The formeris pulling at a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger,and he starts left.)
Basil— His crutches!
Basil— His crutches!
(He laughs aloud.)
(He laughs aloud.)
Simon—Here he is now. Ely!Basil—(Calling through the door.) Hear that, Rene?The beggar left his crutches for his gift.
Simon—Here he is now. Ely!
Basil—(Calling through the door.) Hear that, Rene?The beggar left his crutches for his gift.
(Laughter within.)
(Laughter within.)
Simon—You ask him. Ely!
Simon—You ask him. Ely!
(Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out.)
(Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out.)
Basil— Bring the crutches, man!Simon's got the gout.
Basil— Bring the crutches, man!Simon's got the gout.
(Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back in the court. Basil whispers to Rene.)
(Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back in the court. Basil whispers to Rene.)
Rene— When was it, Simon?Simon—Yesterday. I was sleeping on the benchWhen the old codger's shouting waked me up.And there he was.(He points up to the road.)I thought the man was mad,Or had been in the gables robbing nests,For his white hair fluttering in the windLooked like a pair of pigeons on his poll.He must have thought the Devil—(He sits down on a bench.)Basil— Or else Ely.Rene—Yes, chasing him for his pay.Basil—(Indignantly.) His crutches!Simon—(Drolly.)He left his sole support.
Rene— When was it, Simon?
Simon—Yesterday. I was sleeping on the benchWhen the old codger's shouting waked me up.And there he was.(He points up to the road.)I thought the man was mad,Or had been in the gables robbing nests,For his white hair fluttering in the windLooked like a pair of pigeons on his poll.He must have thought the Devil—(He sits down on a bench.)
Basil— Or else Ely.
Rene—Yes, chasing him for his pay.
Basil—(Indignantly.) His crutches!
Simon—(Drolly.)He left his sole support.
(They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward, peeps roundthe corner of the dormitory. Withdrawing quickly, hehurries back toward the door.)
(They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward, peeps roundthe corner of the dormitory. Withdrawing quickly, hehurries back toward the door.)
Basil—(Excitedly, in an underbreath.) Rene!
Basil—(Excitedly, in an underbreath.) Rene!
(He points back over his shoulder with his thumb.)
(He points back over his shoulder with his thumb.)
Rene—(Huskily.) Simon!
Rene—(Huskily.) Simon!
(Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping his mouthwith his sleeve, hurries after the others into the dormitory.From the right, the Abbot enters followed by atrain of monks. He wears a miter and a flowing copeof scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end of a rosaryabout his neck dangles an ivory crucifix. The monksare all in black and wear their hoods. Upon reachingthe center of the court, the Abbot raises his staff and theprocession stops.)
(Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping his mouthwith his sleeve, hurries after the others into the dormitory.From the right, the Abbot enters followed by atrain of monks. He wears a miter and a flowing copeof scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end of a rosaryabout his neck dangles an ivory crucifix. The monksare all in black and wear their hoods. Upon reachingthe center of the court, the Abbot raises his staff and theprocession stops.)
Abbot—Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawnAnd put the clouds to flight. The kingly sunLooks on the world like our new-risen LordDriving the night before Him. And the fiends,That fly with darkness from the pit of deathTo conjure with the baleful midnight starsAnd wreck God's holy chime of human souls,Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbsAre thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogsThat hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps,Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellumWith breezes fan their fevers from the blood,And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urnsSprinkle the parched earth to cool the vinesPreparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood.The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams,Fairies and watching wanderers of the night,That kennel in the bowels of the earthAnd taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts,And sow infections through the flocks and herds,Have flown like bats into the squalid caves,And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towersThe virgin dawn brings forth the sun of GodAnd smiles upon the world. The blessed lightSpreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings,Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells.The day will—
Abbot—Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawnAnd put the clouds to flight. The kingly sunLooks on the world like our new-risen LordDriving the night before Him. And the fiends,That fly with darkness from the pit of deathTo conjure with the baleful midnight starsAnd wreck God's holy chime of human souls,Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbsAre thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogsThat hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps,Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellumWith breezes fan their fevers from the blood,And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urnsSprinkle the parched earth to cool the vinesPreparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood.The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams,Fairies and watching wanderers of the night,That kennel in the bowels of the earthAnd taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts,And sow infections through the flocks and herds,Have flown like bats into the squalid caves,And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towersThe virgin dawn brings forth the sun of GodAnd smiles upon the world. The blessed lightSpreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings,Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells.The day will—
(High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a trumpet.) Hark!
(High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a trumpet.) Hark!
A Monk— It was Ely's trumpet.Another—Some one comes.Abbot— The asses from Italy,Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt.A Monk—And the golden chalices.Another— And Father's cope.
A Monk— It was Ely's trumpet.
Another—Some one comes.
Abbot— The asses from Italy,Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt.
A Monk—And the golden chalices.
Another— And Father's cope.