The Saint's Tragedy Part 23

2d Lady. Not I, sir; the old Saints send me lovers enough, and to spare--yourself for one.

1st Lady. There is the giant-killer slain. But see--they have stopped: who is that raising the coffin lid?

2d Lady. Her familiar spirit, Conrad the heretic-catcher.

Knight. I do defy him! Thou art my only G.o.ddess; My saint, my idol, my--ahem!

1st Lady. That well's run dry.

Look, how she trembles--Now she sinks, all s.h.i.+vering, Upon the pavement--Why, you'll see nought there Flirting behind the pillar--Now she rises-- And choking down that proud heart, turns to the altar-- Her hand upon the coffin.

Eliz. I thank thee, gracious Lord, who hast fulfilled Thine handmaid's mighty longings with the sight Of my beloved's bones, and dost vouchsafe This consolation to the desolate.

I grudge not, Lord, the victim which we gave Thee, Both he and I, of his most precious life, To aid Thine holy city: though Thou knowest His sweetest presence was to this world's joy As sunlight to the taper--Oh! hadst Thou spared-- Had Thy great mercy let us, hand in hand, Have toiled through houseless shame, on beggar's dole, I had been blest: Thou hast him, Lord, Thou hast him-- Do with us what Thou wilt! If at the price Of this one silly hair, in spite of Thee, I could reclothe these wan bones with his manhood, And clasp to my shrunk heart my hero's self-- I would not give it!

I will weep no more-- Lead on, most holy; on the sepulchre Which stands beside the choir, lay down your burden.

[To the people.]

Now, gentle hosts, within the close hard by, Will we our court, as queen of sorrows, hold-- The green graves underneath us, and above The all-seeing vault, which is the eye of G.o.d, Judge of the widow and the fatherless.

There will I plead my children's wrongs, and there, If, as I think, there boil within your veins The deep sure currents of your race's manhood, Ye'll nail the orphans' badge upon your s.h.i.+elds, And own their cause for G.o.d's. We name our champions-- Rudolf, the Cupbearer, Leutolf of Erlstetten, Hartwig of Erba, and our loved Count Walter, Our knights and va.s.sals, sojourners among you.

Follow us.

[Exit Elizabeth, etc.; the crowd following.]

ACT IV

SCENE I

Night. The church of a convent. Elizabeth, Conrad, Gerard, Monks, an Abbess, Nuns, etc., in the distance.

Conrad. What's this new weakness? At your own request We come to hear your self-imposed vows-- And now you shrink: where are the high-flown fancies Which but last week, beside your husband's bier, You vapoured forth? Will you become a jest?

You might have counted this tower's cost, before You blazoned thus your plans abroad.

Eliz. Oh! spare me!

Con. Spare? Spare yourself; and spare big easy words, Which prove your knowledge greater than your grace.

Eliz. Is there no middle path? No way to keep My love for them, and G.o.d, at once unstained?

Con. If this were G.o.d's world, Madam, and not the devil's, It might be done.

Eliz. G.o.d's world, man! Why, G.o.d made it-- The faith a.s.serts it G.o.d's.

Con. Potentially-- As every christened rogue's a child of G.o.d, Or those old hags, Christ's brides--Think of your horn-book-- The world, the flesh, and the devil--a goodly leas.h.!.+

And yet G.o.d made all three. I know the fiend; And you should know the world: be sure, be sure.

The flesh is not a stork among the cranes.

Our nature, even in Eden gross and vile, And by miraculous grace alone upheld, Is now itself, and foul, and d.a.m.ned, must die Ere we can live; let halting worldlings, madam, Maunder against earth's ties, yet clutch them still.

Eliz. And yet G.o.d gave them to me--

Con. In the world; Your babes are yours according to the flesh; How can you hate the flesh, and love its fruit?

Eliz. The Scripture bids me love them.

Con. Truly so, While you are forced to keep them; when G.o.d's mercy Doth from the flesh and world deliverance offer, Letting you bestow them elsewhere, then your love May cease with its own usefulness, and the spirit Range in free battle lists; I'll not waste reasons-- We'll leave you, Madam, to the Spirit's voice.

[Conrad and Gerard withdraw.]

Eliz. [alone]. Give up his children! Why, I'd not give up A lock of hair, a glove his hand had hallowed: And they are his gift; his pledge; his flesh and blood Tossed off for my ambition! Ah! my husband!

His ghost's sad eyes upbraid me! Spare me, spare me!

I'd love thee still, if I dared; but I fear G.o.d.

And shall I never more see loving eyes Look into mine, until my dying day?

That's this world's bondage: Christ would have me free, And 'twere a pious deed to cut myself The last, last strand, and fly: but whither? whither?

What if I cast away the bird i' the hand And found none in the bush? 'Tis possible-- What right have I to arrogate Christ's bride-bed?

Crushed, widowed, sold to traitors? I, o'er whom His billows and His storms are sweeping? G.o.d's not angry: No, not so much as we with buzzing fly; Or in the moment of His wrath's awakening We should be--nothing. No--there's worse than that-- What if He but sat still, and let be be?

And these deep sorrows, which my vain conceit Calls chastenings--meant for me--my ailments' cure-- Were lessons for some angels far away, And I the corpus vile for the experiment?

The grinding of the sharp and pitiless wheels Of some high Providence, which had its mainspring Ages ago, and ages hence its end?

That were too horrible!-- To have torn up all the roses from my garden, And planted thorns instead; to have forged my griefs, And hugged the griefs I dared not forge; made earth A h.e.l.l, for hope of heaven; and after all, These homeless moors of life toiled through, to wake, And find blank nothing! Is that angel-world A gaudy window, which we paint ourselves To hide the dead void night beyond? The present?

Why here's the present--like this arched gloom, It hems our blind souls in, and roofs them over With adamantine vault, whose only voice Is our own wild prayers' echo: and our future?-- It rambles out in endless aisles of mist, The farther still the darker--O my Saviour!

My G.o.d! where art Thou? That's but a tale about Thee, That crucifix above--it does but show Thee As Thou wast once, but not as Thou art now-- Thy grief, but not Thy glory: where's that gone?

I see it not without me, and within me h.e.l.l reigns, not Thou!

[Dashes herself down on the altar steps.]

[Monks in the distance chanting.]

'Kings' daughters were among thine honourable women'--

Eliz. Kings' daughters! I am one!

Monks. 'Hearken, O daughter, and consider; incline thine ear: Forget also thine own people, and thy father's house, So shall the King have pleasure in thy beauty: For He is thy Lord G.o.d, and wors.h.i.+p thou Him.'

Eliz. [springing up]. I will forget them!

They stand between my soul and its allegiance.

Thou art my G.o.d: what matter if Thou love me?

I am Thy bond-slave, purchased with Thy life-blood; I will remember nothing, save that debt.

Do with me what Thou wilt. Alas, my babies!

He loves them--they'll not need me.

[Conrad advancing.]

Con. How now, Madam!

Have these your prayers unto a n.o.bler will Won back that wandering heart?

Eliz. G.o.d's will is spoken!

The flesh is weak; the spirit's fixed, and dares,-- Stay! confess, sir, Did not yourself set on your brothers here To sing me to your purpose?