The Legend of Saint Cecily

Uprose the morning with a ruddy glow !
Uprose her gentle forehead, wreathed with day!
The mountain-top — the wood — the river's flow,
Gleamed softly — and aloud the matin-lay
Of singing birds, their leafy bowers below,
Swelled into song to greet the Orient ray ;
While yet the sun, full-quivered, paused on high,
To launch his arrowy beams along the sky.

Then, at the casement of his chosen bride,
A young man listened to a sweeter song ;
Fair Cecily's — of all her race the pride —
What eye could greet a lovelier in the throng ?
To win her vows how many a knight had sighed,
With mortal love her virgin life to wrong :
But what was earth with all its golden glare ?
Her eyes were heavenward, and her soul was there.

The maiden chants, her Saviour's grace to sing ;
Her harp is mingled with that thrilling sound ;
The music trembles on the quivering string,
Like some sweet sorcery of enchanted ground.
Well might an Angel-hand the magic bring,
That first in sainted Cecily was found —
The spell that bade the awful organ roll
The storm of music o'er the shuddering soul.

The youth drew near with glad and blushing brow,
" It is the day," he said, " the morning beams !
Friends wait with anxious ears our uttered vow —
See ! on the temple-dome the sunlight gleams ;
The wreath, the sacrifice are ready now ;
The multitude along the pathway streams —
Lo ! the priests beckon, and the guests are loud,
And the wide gates enfold a gathering crowd."

She lifted up her voice. " What then ? Shall I,
The vassal of the Lord, become thy slave,
To live a common life beneath the sky !
I, that my vows to Jesu-Master gave ?
He, the good Shepherd, rules me with His eye,
My God to follow, and thy wrath to brave !
Would that thou durst at yon true altar stand,
Where I am safe, amid the Angel-band."

Mute with deep sorrow, still he stood, and stern ;
Away ! away ! a sad and last adieu !
And yet, fond hope, his lingering feet return,
Once more the sorrow of her eye to view :
He smiled, to hide the love that yet would yearn ;
" Hast thou," he said, " an angel tried and true ?
Show me thy friend ! let me but see him shine !
My heart shall bend to thee ! thy God be mine."

" It shall be done ! " the unshrinking maiden said,
" The Lord will yield His trusting handmaid grace ;"
The bridegroom went, with slow and mournful tread,
Once more, at evening-tide, that path to trace.
He came ! he saw ! O vision fair and dread !
The maiden at the altar bowed her face ;
Her starry eyes were rapt in trusting prayer,
And o'er that brow an Angel stood, on air !

Death-tokens held that spirit in his hand !
He laid a rose upon the young man's breast.
The maiden took a lily of the land —
Those flowers, the symbols of a martyr's rest ;
Thereby the twain could meekly understand
That life would fleetly fade and death was best.
Both fell for God ! and now in every tongue
Valerien lives, and Cecily is sung.