The Purgatory of St. Patrick Part 6

SCENE X.

The Angel and PATRICK.

PATRICK. Ah! it cannot be to me Comes such glory! For, behold!

Pearl and rosy dawn in one, s.h.i.+nes a cloud, from which its sun Breaks in crimson and in gold!

Living stars its robe adorning, Rose and jasmine sweetly blended, Dazzling comes that vision splendid, Scattering purple pomps of morning.

ANGEL. PATRICK!

PATRICK. Sunlight strikes me blind!

Heavenly Lord, who canst thou be?

ANGEL. I am Victor, whom to thee G.o.d thy angel-guard a.s.signed: With this scroll, to give it thee [Gives him the letter.

I am sent.

PATRICK. Sweet messenger, Paranymph of all things fair, Who amidst the hierarchy Of the highest hosts of heaven Singest in melodious tone -- "Glory unto Thee alone, Holy, Holy Lord, be given!"

ANGEL. Read the letter.

PATRICK. With amaze, I see here "To Patrick" Oh, Can a slave be honoured so?

ANGEL. Open it.

PATRICK. It also says -- "Patrick! Patrick! hither come, Free us from our slavery!"-- More it means than I can see, Since I do not know by whom I am called. Oh, faithful guide, Speedily dispel my error!

ANGEL. Look into this s.h.i.+ning mirror.

PATRICK. Heavens!

ANGEL. What seest thou inside?

PATRICK. Numerous people there seem thronging, Old men, children, women, who Seem to call me.

ANGEL. Nor do you Stay, but satisfy their longing.

You behold the Irish nation, Who expect to hear G.o.d's truth From your lips. Oh, chosen youth, Leave your slavery. The vocation G.o.d has given thee is to sow Faith o'er all the Irish soil.

There as Legate thou shalt toil, Ireland's great Apostle. Go First to France, to German's home, The good bishop: there thou'lt make Thy profession: there thou'lt take The monk's habit, and to Rome Pa.s.s, where letters thou'lt procure For that mighty work of thine, In the bulls of Celestine: Thou wilt visit, then, in Tours Martin, the great bishop there.

Now upborne upon the wind Come with me, for thou wilt find G.o.d has given with prescient care His commands to all, that so Fitly thy great work be done; But 'tis time we should be gone: Let us on our journey go.

[They disappear.

ACT THE SECOND.

HALL OF A TOWER IN THE PALACE OF EGERIUS.

SCENE I.

LUIS and POLONIA

LUIS. Yes, Polonia, yes, for he Who betrays inconstancy Has no reason for complaining That another love is gaining On his own; that fault will be Ever punished so. For who Proudly soars that doth not fall?

Therefore 'tis that I forestall Philip's love howe'er so true.

He is n.o.bler to the view, As one n.o.bly born may be; But in that n.o.bility, Which one's self can win and wear, I with justice may declare I am n.o.bler far than he; I more honour have obtained Than on Philip's cradle rained: Let the fact excuse the boast, For this land from coast to coast Rings with victories I have gained.

Three years is it since I came To these isles (it seems a day); Three swift years have rolled away Since I made it my chief aim Thee to serve -- my highest fame.

Trophies numerous as the sand, Mars might envy, has my hand Won for thy great sire and thee -- Being the wonder of the sea, And th' amazement of the land.

POLONIA. Luis, yes, thy gallant bearing, Or inherited or acquired, Has within my breast inspired A strange fear, a certain daring,-- Ah, I know not if, declaring This, 'tis love, for blushes rise At perceiving with surprise That at last hath come the hour, When my heart must own the power Of a deity I despise.

This alone I'll say, that here Long thy hope had been fruition, But that I the disposition Of the king, my father, fear, But still hope and persevere.

SCENE II.

PHILIP. -- THE SAME.

PHILIP [aside]. If to find my death I come, Why precipitate my doom?

But so patient who could be As to not desire to see What impends, how dark its gloom?

LUIS. Then, what pledge may I demand Of your faith?

POLONIA. This hand.

PHILIP. Not so, How to hinder it I shall know; More of this I must withstand.

POLONIA. Woe is me!

PHILIP. Wilt give thy hand to this outcast of the wave?

And, oh thou, to whom pride gave The presumption to aspire To a sun's celestial fire, Knowing that thou wert my slave, Why thus dare to come between Me and mine?

LUIS. Because I dare Be what now I am, nor care More to be what I have been.

It is true that I was seen Once your slave: for who, indeed, Can the fickle wheel control?

But in n.o.bleness of soul The best blood of all your breed I can equal, nay, exceed.

PHILIP. Exceed ME? Vile homicide!

Wretch . . . .

LUIS. In having thus replied You have made a slight mistake.

PHILIP. No.

LUIS. If such you did not make, You've done worse.