And whispers, as her brother opes the door, And then the orphan, young and blind, Towards the church, through paths unscanned, And in the sky as yet no sunny ray, Near that castle, fair to see, And proud of its name of high degree, At the base of the rock, is builded there; Above each jealous cottage roof, Its sacred summit, swept by autumn gales, Round which the osprey screams and sails. Thus Margaret said. "Where are we? we ascend!" Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying!' Come in! The bride will be here soon: Thou tremblest! O my God! thou art going to swoon!" She could no more,-the blind girl, weak and weary! A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary, "What wouldst thou do, my daughter?"—and she started; And quick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted; But Paul, impatient, urges ever more Her steps towards the open door; And when, beneath her feet, the unhappy maid Touches the crown of filigrane At length the bell, Sends forth, resounding round, Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell. For soon arrives the bridal train, And with it brings the village throng. In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay, And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis; To be a bride is all! The pretty lisper Feels her heart swell to hear all around her whisper, "How beautiful! how beautiful she is!" But she must calm that giddy head, At the holy table stands the priest; The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it; Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it, He must pronounce one word at least! 'Tis spoken; and sudden at the groomsman's side ""Tis he!" a well-known voice has cried. And while the wedding guests all hold their breath, Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see! "Baptiste," she said, "since thou hast wished my death, As holy water be my blood for thee!" And calmly in the air a knife suspended! For anguish did its work so well, At eve, instead of bridal verse, Village girls in robes of snow No, ah, no! for each one seemed to say: "The roads should mourn and be veiled in gloom, So fair a corpse shall leave its home! Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away! So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!" A CHRISTMAS CAROL. FROM THE NOEI BOURGUIGNON DE GUI BARÔZAL I HEAR along our street On their hautboys, Christmas songs! Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! In December ring In the streets their merry rhymes. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire. Shepherds at the grange, Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! These good people sang There they stood with freezing feet. Ever higher Sing them till the night expire. Nuns in frigid cells At this holy tide, For want of something else, Christmas songs at times have tried. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Washerwomen old, To the sound they beat, With uncovered heads and feet. Ever higher THE GOLDEN LEGEND. PROLOGUE. THE SPIRE OF STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. Night and storm. LUCIFER, with the powers of the Air, trying to tear down the Cross. Lucifer. Hasten! hasten! O ye spirits! From its station drag the ponderous Cross of iron, that to mock us Is uplifted high in air! Voices. O, we cannot! For around it All the Saints and Guardian Angels Throng in legions to protect it; The Bells. Laudo Deum verum! Plebem voco! Congrego clerum! Lucifer. Lower! lower! Hover downward! Seize the loud, vociferous belis, and Here are harmless! For these bells have been anointed, The Bells. Defunctos ploro! |