LXIV.-MONK FELIX. LONGFELLOW. 1. One morning all alone, Out of his convent of gray stone, Walked the Monk Felix. All about And within the woodlands as he trod, 2 Under him lay the golden moss; And above him the boughs of the hemlock trees Waved, and made the sign of the cross, And whispered their Benedicites; And from the ground Rose an odor, sweet and fragrant, Of the wild-flowers and the vagrant Vines that wandered, Seeking the sunshine round and round; On the volume in his hand, In the unknown and, And, with his eyes cast down, In humility he said: "I believe, O God, What herein I have read, But, alas! I do not understand!" 3. And lo! he heard The sudden singing of a bird, A snow-white bird, that from a cloud And among the branches brown Sat singing So sweet, and clear, and loud It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing, And the Monk Felix closed his book, And long, long, With rapturous look, He listened to the song, And hardly breathed or stirred, Until he saw, as in a vision, The land of Elysian, And in the heavenly city heard Angelic feet Fall on the golden flagging of the street. And he would fain have caught the wondrous bird, But strove in vain; For it flew away, away, Far over hill and dell, And instead of its sweet singing He heard the convent bell Suddenly in the silence ringing For the service of noonday. And he retraced His pathway homeward, sadly and in haste. 4 In the convent there was a change! He looked for each well-known face, But the faces were new and strange; New figures sat in the oaken stalls, New voices chanted in the choir; Yet the place was the same place, The same dusty walls Of old gray stone; The same cloisters, and belfry, and spire. 6. A stranger and alone. Among that brotherhood The Monk Felix stood. 66 Forty years," said a friar, "Have I been prior Of this convent in the wood; But for that space, Never have I beheld thy face!" 6. The heart of the Monk Felix fell; And he answered with submissive tone, "This morning after the hour of Prime I left my cell, And wandered forth alone, Listening all the time To the melodious singing Of a beautiful white bird. Until I heard The bells of the convent ringing For what to me had seemed 7. "Years!" said a voice close by. Fastened against the wall; He was the oldest monk of all. For a whole century Had he been there, Serving God in prayer, The meekest and humblest of his creatures. He remembered well the features Of Felix, and he said, Speaking distinct and slow "One hundred years ago, When I was a novice in this place, There was here a monk full of God's grace, Who bore the name Of Felix, and this man must be the same." 8. And straightway They brought forth to the light of day A volume old and brown, A huge tome, bound In brass and wild boar's hide, Wherein was written down The names of all who had died In the convent since it was edified. And there they found, Just as the old monk said, That on a certain day and date, One hundred years before, Had gone forth from the convent gate Had entered that sacred door. He had been counted among the dead! And they knew, at last, That such had been the power Of that celestial and immortal song, A hundred years had passed, And had not seemed so long as a single hour! LXIV. THE FIRST CRUSADE. CONDENSED FROM MICHELET, 1. A Picard, usually called Peter the Hermit, is said to have powerfully contributed, by his eloquence, to the great popular movement. On his return from a pil |