Ir chanced, that while the pious troops of France Fought in the crusade Pio Nono preached, What time the holy Bourbons stayed his hands (The Hur and Aaron meet for such a Moses), Stretched forth from Naples towards rebellious
To bless the ministry of Oudinot, And sanctify his iron homilies And sharp persuasions of the bayonet,
That the great pontiff fell asleep, and dreamed.
He stood by Lake Tiberias, in the sun Of the bright Orient; and beheld the lame, The sick, and blind, kneel at the Master's feet, And rise up whole. And, sweetly over all, Dropping the ladder of their hymn of praise From heaven to earth, in silver rounds of song, He heard the blessed angels sing of peace, Good-will to man, and glory to the Lord..
Then one, with feet unshod, and leathern face Hardened and darkened by fierce summer suns And hot winds of the desert, closer drew His fisher's haick, and girded up his loins, And spake, as one who had authority: "Come thou with me."
Lake-side and eastern sky
And the sweet song of angels passed away, And, with a dream's alacrity of change, The priest, and the swart fisher by his side, Beheld the Eternal City lift its domes And solemn fanes and monumental pomp Above the waste Campagna. On the hills The blaze of burning villas rose and fell,
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 the 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:
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.
Than that your majesty hath all too well Catered for your poor guests, and that, in sooth, The Holy Father's supper troubleth him," Said Cardinal Antonelli, with a smile.
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."
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." "Nay, my son, Our times are in God's hands, and all our days
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
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
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 knowI 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. 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."
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
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, en, and calls it piety!
The pirate, watching from his bloody deck The weltering galleon, heavy with the gold Of Acapulco, holding death in check
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