Arch. In a sad hour, with bitter pangs, do I behold, alas ! Thy crowned and consecrated head in league with Satanas. Your crown has been secured to you, 'twould so seem, 'gainst all hope,

But with no blessing from on high, no sanction from the Pope.

Upon thy sinful land ere long in judgment he will sit, And with his holy lightnings strike, annihilating it.

He hath not, how could he forget that strange portentous deed

Of yours, the day that you were crowned, and the magician freed;

When from the diadem, to all good Christians' grief and 1298

dread,

The first beam of its mercy glanced on that accursed head ? Beat on thy breast in penitence ! Oh! think of thy soul's

health,

And give some little to the Church of all that demonwealth.

Where, listening to the prince of lies, you sinned-oh! chiefly there,

'Twere fitting to atone for sin, and evil done repair.

My counsel take-'tis for your sake I chiefly speak, believe it

That very spot, why should you not to pious uses give it ? Oh! sanctify the broad hill-space where thy tent stood, and where

The evil spirits, aiding thee, in battle active were:

And give the mountain and the wood, that league on league extends, 279

And the pasture-land beginning just where the woodland

ends;

Bright lakes alive with fish, and brooks that from the mountain's crown

Wind numberless along the slopes, then to the vale leap down;

And the broad vale, oh! dedicate, with meadow-land and plain.

Repentance thus expressed finds grace, and never pleads in vain.

Emp. Thinking upon my heavy crime, such terrors on me seize,

I leave it to yourself to fix at will the boundaries.

Arch. First, then, be the polluted land, defiled by magic art,

For ever to the service of the Highest set apart.
Already I in spirit see the stately walls aspire, 1300
Already feel the morning sun's first rays light up the choir.
The rising structure to a cross enlarges and extends ;
Believers see with joy the nave that lengthens and ascends;
The faithful through rich portals stream, borne on with
burning zeal,

And over vale, and over hill, is heard the bell's first peal; From towers, that heavenward point and strive, rings the far-echoed sound

There, kneeling down, the penitent a better life hath

found.

And at the dedication day-oh! would that it were nowAnd kneeling in that church-thy gift-such penitent wert

thou. Emp. Oh

may this pious work avail to-day, 30/ To praise the Lord, and put my sin away! Already, in the thought sublime, above myself I feel.

Arch. I, as the Chancellor, arrange formality and seal. Emp. Prepare the fitting document, purporting to secure This to the Church, and I'll with joy affix my signature. Arch. [takes leave, but immediately returns]. And to the work, as it proceeds, must thou too dedicate Land-dues, benevolences large, and tribute, rent, and rate For ever. To support the staff with money you should aid;

The bursar and the auditor must not be underpaid. That the building may go quickly on, you cannot, sure,

From the plunder of the enemy, an offering of gold. We also shall have need-the thing admits not of disguise

Of foreign timber, lime, and siate, and of them large supplies

The carriage will cost nothing: we'll have orators addressing

The crowd, to preach "who serves the Church may reckon

on her blessing."

[Exit

Emp. Grievous and heavy is the sin wherewith I've burthened me;

These odious sorcerers bring me to a sad extremity.

Arch. [returns again with a deep obeisance].

Pardon me, Sire. The sea-shore of the realm to that bad man

Has been conveyed; yet will he fall under the Church's ban,

Unless, repentant, to the Church from all that land you give 1363 Tithes, contributions, rents and rates, and dues derivative. Emp. [vexed]. The land! Call you that "land," o'erflowed by ocean vast?

Arch. Where patience and good title are, possession comes at last.

For us may your all-gracious word inviolate remain !

[Exit

Emp. [alone]. What will he next, perhaps, demand ?— The realm o'er which I reign?

Wanderer. Yes! 'tis their dusk grove of linden,
Strong in undecaying age;

And shall I again behold them,
After years of pilgrimage ?

Still the same old place-see yonder!/30
See the hut that sheltered me,
When upon these downs the billows

Flung me from the stormy sea!

Oh! that I once more could greet them—
My old hosts-even then they were
Old. And can I hope to meet them?
Earnest, active, kindly pair!

Oh but they were kindly people!
Shall I knock ? or with my voice
Question gently? Do my old friends /35
Still in doing good rejoice ?

Baucis [a very old woman]. Softly! softly!

Wand.

stranger,

To his rest the old man leave;

Strength for their short hours of waking
Still from sleep the old receive.

Say then, love you still, dear mother,
Still to hear my thanks again?
By thy kind act and thy husband's
Rescued. Many years since then!

Art thou Baucis, she, whose nurture 1306
To my cold lips called back life?

PHILEMON enters

Thou, Philemon, who my treasure
Saved amid the billows' strife?
How the rapid fire you lighted
Threw its blaze o'er ocean drear !
How that night amid the tempest
Rang your small bell's silvery cheer!

Let me move a few steps onward
Let me view the boundless sea!

Let me kneel in thankful prayer 1347
My full heart oppresses me.

gentle

[Moves rapidly over the downs

Philemon [to BAUCIS]. Hasten now to spread the table 'Mong the garden's cheerful trees;

Let him run, and, struck with wonder,

Start back, doubting all he sees.

[Follows him

Phil. [to the WANDERER]. Where the sea in savage

fury

Wave on foaming wave once rolled,

Now you see a happy garden,

Fair as Eden was of old.

Gone was my poor strength-too feeble / 38

To have aided; weak like me,

Shrank the waves, till then unconquered,
Shrank in fear the mighty sea.

Bold hands toiled, wise heads directed,
Dikes and dams shut out the sea;
Ocean's old rights they invaded,

Lords, where he had ruled, to be.

See in green waves meadows rolling!
Pastures, garden, woodland, town!
But the evening bids us homeward. 1309
Come !—the sun is sinking down.

Sails move inward from the distance,
For the night to port repair;
Birds, that know their nests, I warrant,
For a haven now is there!

Far away in the dim distance,

First the sea's blue fringe you trace;
Right and left, see, fields and gardens
Crowd the thickly peopled space.

II

IN THE GARDEN

THE THREE AT THE TABLE

Bau. [to WANDERER]. Are you dumb ?-and not

To your famished lips you move!

Phil. He may wish to hear of wonders,
And to tell of such you love.

Bau. Wonders ! Prodigies of Magic!
What was done still troubles me.
It was nothing good, I warrant-
Nothing such as ought to be.
Phil. Would the Emperor, were it evil,

Then, have granted him the shore?
Heard we not the trumpet tell it /3'/
As the herald passed our door?
Near this very door was planted

The first foot; then tents were seen;