Next, with like action and like words, Her coronal, intwined wherein The rose and lily met; Her he for Eleëmon crown'd, "Crown them with honour, Lord!" he said, "With blessings crown the righteous head! To them let peace be given, A holy life, a hopeful end, Still as he made each separate prayer For blessings that they in life might share, And for their eternal bliss, The echoing Choristers replied, How differently meantime, before While they the sacred rites partake She, who possest her soul in peace His lips the while had only moved For he had steel'd himself, like one In present joy he wrapt his heart, All other thoughts beside him, TWELVE years V. have held their quiet course Since Cyra's nuptial day; How happily, how rapidly, Blest in her husband she hath been; (Most sinful and unhappy man !) She hath been fruitful as a vine, And in her children blest; Sorrow hath not come near her yet, Nor fears to shake, nor cares to fret, Nor grief to wound the breast. And blest alike would her husband be, Were all things as they seem; Eleëmon hath every earthly good, And with every man's esteem. But where the accursed reed had drawn Nor could he from his heart throw off It was there when he lay down at night, No occupation from his mind. But still he felt it most, And with painfullest weight it prest, O miserable man! O miserable man, Who hath all the world to friend, But happy man, whate'er In such faith hath Proterius lived; And strong is that faith and fresh, As if obtaining then new power, When he hath reach'd the awful hour Appointed for all flesh. Eleëmon and his daughter With his latest breath he blest, And saying to them, "We shall meet Again before the Mercy-seat!" Went peacefully to rest. This is the balm which God But her miserable husband Thou art sold to the Demon!" Whole Cæsarea is pour'd forth When Proterius is borne to his resting place Not like a Pagan's is his bier With tapers in the face of day, With hymns that fortify the heart, In honour of the dead man's rank, But of his virtues more, The holy Bishop Basil Was one the bier who bore. |