| |
Vespers; after which the monks retire, a chorister leading an old monk who is blind.
PRINCE HENRY. THEY are all gone, save one who lingers, | |
| Absorbed in deep and silent prayer. | |
| As if his heart could find no rest, | |
| At times he beats his heaving breast | |
| With clenchèd and convulsive fingers, | 5 |
| Then lifts them trembling in the air. | |
| A chorister, with golden hair, | |
| Guides hitherward his heavy pace. | |
| Can it be so? Or does my sight | |
| Deceive me in the uncertain light? | 10 |
| Ah no! I recognize that face, | |
| Though Time has touched it in his flight, | |
| And changed the auburn hair to white. | |
| It is Count Hugo of the Rhine, | |
| The deadliest foe of all our race, | 15 |
| And hateful unto me and mine! | |
| |
THE BLIND MONK. Who is it that doth stand so near | |
| His whispered words I almost hear? | |
| |
PRINCE HENRY. I am Prince Henry of Hoheneck, | |
| And you, Count Hugo of the Rhine! | 20 |
| I know you, and I see the scar, | |
| The brand upon your forehead, shine | |
| And redden like a baleful star! | |
| |
THE BLIND MONK. Count Hugo once, but now the wreck | |
| Of what I was. O Hoheneck! | 25 |
| The passionate will, the pride, the wrath | |
| That bore me headlong on my path, | |
| Stumbled and staggered into fear, | |
| And failed me in my mad career, | |
| As a tired steed some evil-doer, | 30 |
| Alone upon a desolate moor, | |
| Bewildered, lost, deserted, blind, | |
| And hearing loud and close behind | |
| The o’ertaking steps of his pursuer. | |
| Then suddenly from the dark there came | 35 |
| A voice that called me by my name, | |
| And said to me, “Kneel down and pray!” | |
| And so my terror passed away, | |
| Passed utterly away forever. | |
| Contrition, penitence, remorse, | 40 |
| Came on me, with o’erwhelming force; | |
| A hope, a longing, an endeavor, | |
| By days of penance and nights of prayer, | |
| To frustrate and defeat despair! | |
| Calm, deep, and still is now my heart, | 45 |
| With tranquil waters overflowed; | |
| A lake whose unseen fountains start, | |
| Where once the hot volcano glowed. | |
| And you, O Prince of Hoheneck! | |
| Have known me in that earlier time, | 50 |
| A man of violence and crime, | |
| Whose passions brooked no curb nor check | |
| Behold me now, in gentler mood, | |
| One of this holy brotherhood. | |
| Give me your hand; here let me kneel; | 55 |
| Make your reproaches sharp as steel; | |
| Spurn me, and smite me on each cheek; | |
| No violence can harm the meek, | |
| There is no wound Christ cannot heal! | |
| Yes; lift your princely hand, and take | 60 |
| Revenge, if ’t is revenge you seek; | |
| Then pardon me, for Jesus’ sake! | |
| |
PRINCE HENRY. Arise, Count Hugo! let there be | |
| No further strife nor enmity | |
| Between us twain; we both have erred! | 65 |
| Too rash in act, too wroth in word, | |
| From the beginning have we stood | |
| In fierce, defiant attitude, | |
| Each thoughtless of the other’s right, | |
| And each reliant on his might. | 70 |
| But now our souls are more subdued; | |
| The hand of God, and not in vain, | |
| Has touched us with the fire of pain. | |
| Let us kneel down and side by side | |
| Pray, till our souls are purified, | 75 |
| And pardon will not be denied! They kneel. | |
| |
