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;

They defeat us everywhere!

The Bells. Laudo Deum verum!
Plebem voco !

Congrego clerum !

Lucifer. Lower! lower!
Hover downward !

Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and
Clashing, clanging, to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!

Voices. All thy thunders

Here are harmless !

For these bells have been anointed

And baptized with holy water!

They defy our utmost power.

The Bells. Defunctos ploro!

Pestem fugo!

Festa decoro !

Lucifer. Shake the casements!
Break the painted

Panes, that flame with gold and crimson ;

Scatter them like leaves of Autumn,

Swept away before the blast!

Voices. O, we cannot !

The Archangel

Michael flames from every window,

With the sword of fire that drove us
Headlong out of heaven, aghast!

The Bells. Funero plango!

Fulgora frango!

Sabbata pango!

Lucifer. Aim your lightnings

At the oaken,

Massive, iron-studded portals!

Sack the house of God, and scatter
Wide the ashes of the dead!

Voices. O, we cannot !

The Apostles

And the Martyrs, wrapped in mantles,
Stand as warders at the entrance,

Stand as sentinels o'erhead!

Lucifer. Baffled! baffled!
Inefficient,

Craven spirits! leave this labour
Unto Time, the great Destroyer!
Come away, ere night is gone!

Voices. Onward! onward!

With the night-wind,

Over field and farm and forest,

Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet.

Blighting all we breathe upon!

They sweep away. Organ and Gregorian Chant.

Choir. Nocte surgentes

Vigilemus omnes !

I.

THE CASTLE OF VAULTSBERG ON THE RHINE.

A Chamber in a tower. PRINCE HENRY, sitting alone, ill and restless. Midnight.

Prince H. I cannot sleep! my fervid brain

Calls up the vanished Past again,

And throws its misty splendours deep

Into the pallid realms of sleep!

A breath from that far-distant shore
Comes freshening ever more and more,
And wafts o'er intervening seas
Sweet odours from the Hesperides!
A wind, that through the corridor
Just stirs the curtain, and no more,
And, touching the Eolian strings,
Faints with the burden that it brings!
Come back! ye friendships long departed!
That like o'erflowing streamlets started,
And now are dwindled, one by one,

To stony channels in the sun!

Come back! ye friends, whose lives are ended!
Come back, with all that light attended,

Which seemed to darken and decay

When ye arose and went away!

They come, the shapes of joy and woe,
The airy crowds of long-ago,

The dreams and fancies known of yore,
That have been, and shall be no more.
They change the cloisters of the night
Into a garden of delight;

They make the dark and dreary hours
Open and blossom into flowers!
I would not sleep! I love to be
Again their fair company;
But ere my lips can bid them stay,
They pass and vanish quite away!
Alas! our memories may retrace
Each circumstance of time and place,
Season and scene come back again

And outward things unchanged remain ;
The rest we cannot reinstate;
Ourselves we cannot re-create,

Nor set our souls to the same key
Of the remembered harmony!

Rest! rest! O, give me rest and peace!
The thought of life that ne'er shall cease
Has something in it like despair,

A weight I am too weak to bear !
Sweeter to this afflicted breast
The thought of never-ending rest!
Sweeter the undisturbed and deep
Tranquillity of endless sleep!

A flash of lightning, out of which LUCIFER appears, in the garb of a travelling Physician.

Lucifer. All hail, Prince Henry!

Prince H. (starting.)

Who and what are you?

Lucifer.

Who is it speaks?

One who seeks

A moment's audience with the Prince.

Prince Henry. When came you in?
Lucifer.

A moment since.

I found your study door unlocked,

And thought you answered when I knocked.
Prince Henry. I did not hear you.
Lucifer.

You heard the thunder;

It was loud enough to waken the dead.
And it is not a matter of special wonder
That, when God is walking overhead,
You should not hear my feeble tread.

Prince H. What may your wish or purpose be?
Lucifer. Nothing or everything, as it pleases
Your Highness. You behold in me

Only a travelling Physician;

One of the few who have a mission

To cure incurable diseases,

Or those that are called so.

Prince Henry.

The dead to life?

Lucifer.

Can you bring

Yes; very nearly.

And, what is a wiser, and better thing,
Can keep the living from ever needing
Such an unnatural, strange proceeding,

By showing conclusively and clearly

That death is a stupid blunder merely,
And not a necessity of our lives.

My being here is accidental;

The storm that against your casement drives,
In the little village below waylaid me.
And there I heard, with a secret delight,
Of your maladies physical and mental,
Which neither astonished nor dismayed me.

And I hastened hither, though late in the night,
To proffer my aid!

Prince Henry (ironically). For this you came! Ah, how can I ever hope to requite

This honour from one so erudite!

Lucifer. The honour is mine, or will be when

I have cured your disease.

Prince Henry.

But not till then.

Lucifer. What is your illness?
Prince Henry.

It has no name.

A smouldering, dull, perpetual flame,

As in a kiln, burns in my veins,

Sending up vapours to the head.

My heart has become a dull lagoon,

Which a kind of leprosy drinks and drains;
I am accounted as one who is dead,
And, indeed, I think that I shall be soon.
Lucifer. And has Gordonius the Divine,
In his famous Lily of Medicine,--

I see the book lies open before you,—
No remedy potent enough to restore you ?
Prince Henry. None whatever!
Lucifer.
The dead are dead,
And their oracles dumb, when questioned
Of the new diseases that human life

Evolves in its progress, rank and rife.
Consult the dead upon things that were,
But the living only on things that are.
Have you done this, by the appliance
And aid of doctors?

Prince Henry.

Ay, whole schools

Of doctors, with their learned rules;

But the case is quite beyond their science.
Even the doctors of Salern

Send me back word they can discern