The Golden Legend Part 14

And surely as the letter Jod Once cried aloud, and spake to G.o.d, So surely shalt thou feel this rod, And punished shalt thou be!

(_Here_ RABBI BEN ISRAEL _shall lift up his rod to strike_ JESUS, _and his right arm shall be paralyzed._)

IX. CROWNED WITH FLOWERS.

JESUS _sitting among his playmates, crowned with flowers as their King._

_Boys._ We spread our garments on the ground'

With fragrant flowers thy head is crowned, While like a guard we stand around, And hail thee as our King!

Thou art the new King of the Jews!

Nor let the pa.s.sers-by refuse To bring that homage which men use To majesty to bring.

(_Here a traveller shall go by, and the boys shall lay hold of his garments and say:_)

_Boys._ Come hither! and all reverence pay Unto our monarch, crowned to-day!

Then go rejoicing on your way, In all prosperity!

_Traveller._ Hail to the King of Bethlehem, Who weareth in his diadem The yellow crocus for the gem Of his authority!

(_He pa.s.ses by; and others come in, bearing on a litter a sick child._)

_Boys._ Set down the litter and draw near!

The King of Bethlehem is here!

What ails the child, who seems to fear That we shall do him harm?

_The Bearers._ He climbed up to the robin's nest, And out there darted, from his rest, A serpent with a crimson crest, And stung him in the arm.

_Jesus._ Bring him to me, and let me feel The wounded place; my touch can heal The sting of serpents, and can steal The poison from the bite!

(_He touches the wound, and the boy begins to cry._)

Cease to lament! I can foresee That thou hereafter known shalt be, Among the men who follow me, As Simon the Canaanite!

EPILOGUE.

In the after part of the day Will be represented another play, Of the Pa.s.sion of our Blessed Lord, Beginning directly after Nones!

At the close of which we shall accord, By way of benison and reward, The sight of a holy Martyr's bones!

IV. THE ROAD HIRSCHAU.

PRINCE HENRY _and_ ELSIE, _with their attendants, on horseback._

_Elsie._ Onward and onward the highway runs to the distant city, impatiently bearing Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of hate, of doing and daring!

_Prince Henry._ This life of ours is a wild aeolian harp of many a joyous strain, But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail, as of souls in pain.

_Elsie._ Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can comprehend its dark enigma.

_Prince Henry._ Man is selfish, and seeketh pleasure with little care of what may betide; Else why am I travelling here beside thee, a demon that rides by an angel's side?

_Elsie._ All the hedges are white with dust, and the great dog under the creaking wain Hangs his head in the lazy heat, while onward the horses toil and strain

_Prince Henry._ Now they stop at the wayside inn, and the wagoner laughs with the landlord's daughter, While out of the dripping trough the horses distend their leathern sides with water.

_Elsie._ All through life there are wayside inns, where man may refresh his soul with love; Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets fed by springs from above.

_Prince Henry._ Yonder, where rises the cross of stone, our journey along the highway ends, And over the fields, by a bridle path, down into the broad green valley descends.

_Elsie._ I am not sorry to leave behind the beaten road with its dust and heat; The air will be sweeter far, and the turf will be softer under our horses' feet.

(_They turn down a green lane._)

_Elsie._ Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cheery trees, as if just covered with lightest snow.

_Prince Henry._ Over our heads a white cascade is gleaming against the distant hill; We cannot hear it, nor see it move, but it hangs like a banner when winds are still.

_Elsie._ Damp and cool is this deep ravine, and cool the sound of the brook by our side!

What is this castle that rises above us, and lords it over a land so wide?

_Prince Henry._ It is the home of the Counts of Calva; well have I known these scenes of old, Well I remember each tower and turret, remember the brooklet, the wood, and the wold.

_Elsie._ Hark! from the little village below us the bells of the church are ringing for rain!

Priests and peasants in long procession come forth and kneel on the arid plain.

_Prince Henry._ They have not long to wait, for I see in the south uprising a little cloud, That before the sun shall be set will cover the sky above us as with a shroud.

(_They pa.s.s on._)

THE CONVENT OF HIRSCHAU IN THE BLACK FOREST.

_The Convent cellar._ FRIAR CLAUS _comes in with a light and a basket of empty flagons._

_Friar Claus._ I always enter this sacred place With a thoughtful, solemn, and reverent pace, Pausing long enough on each stair To breathe an ejaculatory prayer, And a benediction on the vines That produce these various sorts of wines!

For my part, I am well content That we have got through with the tedious Lent!