ST. GUALBERTO.

ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

THE work is done, the fabric is complete ; Distinct the Traveller sees its distant tower,

Yet ere his steps attain the sacred seat,

Must toil for many a league and many an hour. Elate the Abbot sees the pile and knows, Stateliest of convents now, his new Moscera rose.

Long were the tale that told Moscera's pride, Its columns cluster'd strength and lofty state, How many a saint bedeck'd its sculptured side,

What intersecting arches graced its gate; Its towers how high, its massy walls how strong, These fairly to describe were sure a tedious song.

Yet while the fane rose slowly from the ground, But little store of charity, I ween,

The passing pilgrim at Moscera found; And often there the mendicant was seen Hopeless to turn him from the convent-door, For this so costly work still kept the brethren poor.

Now all is perfect, and from every side.

They flock to view the fabric, young and old. Who now can tell Rodulfo's secret pride,

When on the Sabbath-day his eyes behold The multitudes that crowd his chapel-floor, Some sure to serve their God, to see Moscera more.

So chanced it that Gualberto pass'd that way, Since sainted for a life of holy deeds. He paused the new-rear'd convent to survey, And, whilst o'er all its bulk his eye proceeds, Sorrows, as one whose holier feelings deem That ill so proud a pile did humble monks beseem.

Him, musing as he stood, Rodulfo saw,
And forth he came to greet the holy guest;
For he was known as one who held the law

Of Benedict, and each severe behest

So duly kept with such religious care,

That Heaven had oft vouchsafed its wonders to his

prayer.

"Good brother, welcome !" thus Rodulfo cries, "In sooth it glads me to behold you here; It is Gualberto! and mine aged eyes

Did not deceive me : yet full many a year Hath slipt away, since last you bade farewell To me your host and my uncomfortable cell.

" "Twas but a sorry welcome then you found, And such as suited ill a guest so dear. The pile was ruinous old, the base unsound; It glads me more to bid you welcome here, For you can call to mind our former state! Come, brother, pass with me the new Moscera's gate."

So spake the cheerful Abbot, but no smile
Of answering joy relax'd Gualberto's brow;
He raised his hand and pointed to the pile,

"Moscera better pleased me then, than now ! A palace this, befitting kingly pride!

Will holiness, my friend, in palace pomp abide?"

Aye," cries Rodulfo, " 'tis a stately place!

And pomp becomes the house of worship well. Nay, scowl not round with so severe a face!

When earthly kings in seats of grandeur dwell, Where art exhausted decks the sumptuous hall, poor and sordid huts beseem the Lord of all ?"

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"And ye have rear'd these stately towers on high To serve your God?" the monk severe replied. "It rose from zeal and earnest piety,

And prompted by no worldly thoughts beside? Abbot, to him who prays with soul sincere In humble hermit cell, God will incline his ear.

"Rodulfo! while this haughty building rose, Still was the pilgrim welcome at your door? Did charity relieve the orphans' woes?

Clothed ye the naked? did ye feed the poor? He who with alms most succours the distrest, Proud Abbot! know he serves his heavenly Father best.

"Did they in sumptuous palaces go dwell

Who first abandon'd all to serve the Lord? Their place of worship was the desart cell, Wild fruits and berries spread their frugal board, And if a brook, like this, ran murmuring by, They blest their gracious God, and thought it luxury.'”

Then anger darken'd in Rodulfo's face;

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Enough of preaching," sharply he replied, "Thou art grown envious;.. 'tis a common case,

Humility is made the cloak of pride.

Proud of our home's magnificence are we,

But thou art far more proud in rags and beggary."