MISCELLANEOUS. THE KNIGHT OF ST. JOHN. E RE down yon blue Carpathian hills Farewell to life and all its ills, Farewell to cell and chain. These prison shades are dark and cold, But darker far than they The shadow of a sorrow old Is on my heart alway. For since the day when Warkworth wood Closed o'er my steed and I, An alien from my name and blood, When, looking back in sunset light, And from its casement, far and white, Like one who, from some desert shore, So from the desert of my fate The shade is backward cast! I've wandered wide from shore to shore, And by the Holy Sepulchre I've pledged my knightly sword To Christ, his blessed Church, and her, The Mother of our Lord. O, vain the vow, and vain the strife! How vain do all things seem! My soul is in the past, and life To-day is but a dream! In vain the penance strange and long, And hard for flesh to bear; The prayer, the fasting, and the thong And sackcloth shirt of hair. The eyes of memory will not sleep, Its ears are open still; And vigils with the past they keep And still the loves and joys of old Do evermore uprise; I see the flow of locks of gold, The shine of loving eyes! Ah me! upon another's breast Those golden locks recline; I see upon another rest The glance that once was mine. "O faithless priest ! — O perjured knight!” I hear the Master cry; "Shut out the vision from thy sight, Let Earth and Nature die. "The Church of God is now thy spouse, And thou the bridegroom art; Then let the burden of thy vows Crush down thy human heart!" In vain ! This heart its grief must know, And falls beneath the selfsame blow O pitying Mother! souls of light, Then let the Paynim work his will, |