Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

THE DREAM OF PIO NONO.

21"

And momently the mortar's iron throat
Roared from the trenches; and, within the walls,
Sharp crash of shells, low groans of human pain,
Shout, drum beat, and the clanging larum-bell,
And tramp of hosts, sent up a mingled sound,
Half wail and half defiance. As they passed
The gate of San Pancrazio, human blood
Flowed ankle high about them, and dead men
Choked the long street with gashed and gory piles-
A ghastly barricade of mangled flesh,

From which, at times, quivered a living hand,
And white lips moved and moaned. A father tore
His gray hairs, by the body of his son,

In frenzy; and his fair young daughter wept
On his old bosom. Suddenly a flash

Clove the thick sulphurous air, and man and maid
Sank, crushed and mangled by the shattering shell.

Then spake the Galilean:
"Thou hast seen
The blessed Master and his works of love;

Look now on thine! Hear'st thou the angels sing
Above this open hell? Thou God's high-priest
Thou the Vicegerent of the Prince of Peace!
"Thou the successor of his chosen ones!

I, Peter, fisherman of Galilee,

In the dear Master's name, and for the love
Of his true Church, proclaim thee Antichrist,
Alien and separate from his holy faith

Wide as the difference between death and life,
The hate of man and the great love of God!
Hence, and repent!"

Thereat the pontiff woke, Trembling, and muttering o'er his fearful dream. "What means he?" cried the Bourbon.

ing more

Than that your majesty hath all too well

"Noth

Catered for your poor guests, and that, in sooth,
The Holy Father's supper troubleth him,”
Said Cardinal Antonelli, with a smile.

TAULER.

TAULER, the preacher, walked, one autumn day, Without the walls of Strasburg, by the Rhine, Pondering the solemn Miracle of Life; As one who, wandering in a starless night, Feels, momently, the jar of unseen waves, And hears the thunder of an unknown sea, Breaking along an unimagined shore.

And as he walked he prayed. Even the same Old prayer with which, for half a score of years, Morning, and noon, and evening, lip and heart Had groaned: " Have pity upon me, Lord! Thou seest, while teaching others, I am blind. Send me a man who can direct my steps!"

Then, as he mused, he heard along his path
A sound as of an old man's staff among
The dry, dead linden-leaves; and, looking up,
He saw a stranger, weak, and poor, and old.

"Peace be unto thee, father!" Tauler said; "God give thee a good day!" The old man raised Slowly his calm blue eyes. "I thank thee, son; But all my days are good, and none are ill.”

Wondering thereat, the preacher spake again; * God give thee happy life.” The old man smiled "I never am unhappy."

Tauler laid

His hand upon the stranger's coarse gray sleeve: “Tell me, O father, what thy strange words mean. Surely man's days are evil, and his life

Sad as the grave it leads to."

it leads to." "Nay, my son, Our times are in God's hands, and all our days

TAULER.

Are as our needs: for shadow as for sun,
For cold as heat, for want as wealth, alike

Our thanks are due, since that is best which is ;
And that which is not, sharing not his life,
Is evil only as devoid of good.

And for the happiness of which I spake,
I find it in submission to his will,

And calm trust in the holy Trinity

219

Of Knowledge, Goodness, and Almighty Power."

Silently wondering, for a little space,

Stood the great preacher; then he spake as one Who, suddenly grappling with a haunting thought Which long has followed, whispering through the

dark

Strange terrors, drags it, shrieking, into light: "What if God's will consign thee hence to Hell ?”

"Then," said the stranger, cheerily, "be it so
What Hell may be I know not; this I know-
I cannot lose the presence of the Lord;
One arm, Humility, takes hold upon
His dear Humanity; the other, Love,
Clasps his Divinity. So where I go

He goes; and better fire-walled Hell with Him
Than golden-gated Paradise without."

Tears sprang in Tauler's eyes. in Tauler's eyes. A sudden light, Like the first ray which fell on chaos, clove Apart the shadow wherein he had walked Darkly at noon. And, as the strange old man Went his slow way, until his silver hair

Set like the white moon where the hills of vine Slope to the Rhine, he bowed his head and said: My prayer is answered. God hath sent the man Long sought, to teach me, by his simple trust, Wisdom the weary schoolmen never knew."

So, entering with a changed and cheerful step

The city gates, he saw, far down the street,
A mighty shadow break the light of noon,
Which tracing backward till its airy lines
Hardened to stony plinths, he raised his eyes
O'er broad façade and lofty pediment,
O'er architrave and frieze and sainted niche,
Up the stone lace-work chiselled by the wise
Erwin of Steinbach, dizzily up to where

In the noon-brightness the great Minster's tower,
Jewelled with sunbeams on its mural crown,
Rose like a visible prayer. "Behold!" he said,·
"The stranger's faith made plain before mine eyes
As yonder tower outstretches to the earth
The dark triangle of its shade alone
When the clear day is shining on its top,
So, darkness in the pathway of Man's life
Is but the shadow of God's providence,
By the great Sun of Wisdom cast thereon;
And what is dark below is light in Heaven.”

LINES

SUGGESTED BY READING A STATE PAPER, WHEREIN THE HIGHER LAW IS INVOKED TO SUSTAIN THE LOWER ONE.

A PIOUS magistrate! sound his praise throughout The wondering churches. Who shall henceforth doubt

That the long-wished millennium draweth nigh? Sin in high places has become devout,

Tithes mint, goes painful-faced, and prays its lie
Straight up to Heaven, and calls it piety!

The pirate, watching from his bloody deck
The weltering galleon, heavy with the gold
Of Acapulco, holding death in check

THE VOICES.

221

While prayers are said, brows crossed, and beads

are told

The robber, kneeling where the wayside cross
On dark Abruzzo tells of life's dread loss
From his own carbine, glancing still abroad
For some new victim, offering thanks to God!—
Rome, listening at her altars to the cry

[ocr errors]

Of midnight Murder, while her hounds of hell
Scour France, from baptized cannon and holy bell
And thousand-throated priesthood, loud and high,
Pealing Te Deums to the shuddering sky,
"Thanks to the Lord who giveth victory!
What prove these, but that crime was ne'er so black
As ghostly cheer and pious thanks to lack?
Satan is modest. At Heaven's door he lays
His evil offspring, and, in scriptural phrase
And saintly posture, gives to God the praise
And honor of the monstrous progeny.
What marvel, then, in our own time to see
His old devices smoothly acted o'er—
Official piety, locking fast the door

Of Hope against three million souls of menBrothers, God's children, Christ's redeemed-and then,

With uprolled eyeballs and on bended knee,
Whining a prayer for help to hide the key!

THE VOICES.

"WHY urge the long, unequal fight,
Since Truth has fallen in the street,
Or lift anew the trampled light,
Quenched by the heedless million's feet?

"Give o'er the thankless task; forsake
The fools who know not ill from good;
Eat, drink, enjoy thy own, and take
Thine ease among the multitude.

« AnteriorContinua »