All for Love; or, A Sinner Well Saved

I.

A Youth hath enter'd the Sorcerer's door,
But he dares not lift his eye,
For his knees fail and his flesh quakes,
And his heart beats audibly.

Look up, young man!" the Sorcerer said,
" Lay open thy wishes to me!
Or art thou too modest to tell thy tale?
If so, . . I can tell it thee.

Thy name is Eleemon;
Proterius's freedman thou art;
And on Cyra, thy Master's daughter,
Thou hast madly fix'd thy heart.

But fearing (as thou well mayest fear!)
The high-born Maid to woo.
Thou hast tried what secret prayers and vows
And sacrifice might do.

"Thou hast prayed unto all Saints in Heaven
And to Mary their vaunted Queen;
And little furtherance hast thou found
From them, or from her, I ween!

"And thou, I know, the Ancient Gods,
In hope forlorn hast tried.
If haply Venus might obtain
The maiden for thy bride.

On Jove and Phoebus thou hast call'd,
And on Astarte's name;
And on her, who still at Ephesus
Retains a faded fame.

"Thy voice to Baal hath been raised;
"To Nile's old Deities;
And to all Gods of elder time
Adored by men in every clime
When they ruled earth, seas and skies.

" Their Images are deaf!
Their Oracles are dumb!
"And therefore thou, in thy despair.
To Abibas art come.

" Aye, because neither Saints nor Gods
Thy pleasure will fulfil.
Thou comest to me, Eleemon,
To ask if Satan will! .

I answer thee, Yes. But a faint heart
Can never accomplish its ends!
Put thy trust boldly in him, and be sure
He never forsakes his friends."

While Eleemon listen'd
He shudder'd inwardly,
At the ugly voice of Abibas,
And the look in his wicked eye.

And he could then almost have given
His fatal purpose o'er;
But his Good Angel had left him
When he entered the Sorcerer's door.

So in the strength of evil shame,
His mind the young man knit
Into a desperate resolve.
For his bad purpose fit.

Let thy Master give me what I seek,
O Servant of Satan," he said,
As I ask firmly, and for his
Renounce all other aid!

Time presses. Cyra is content
To bid the world farewell,
And pass her days, a virgin vow'd,
Among Emmelia's sisterhood.
The tenant of a cell.

" Thus hath her Father will'd, that so
A life of rigor here below
May fit her for the skies;
And Heaven acceptably receive
His costliest sacrifice.

The admiring people say of this
That Angels, or that Saints in bliss.
The holy thought inspire;
And she is call'd a blessed Maid,
And he a happy Sire.

"Through Cappadocia far and wide
The news hath found its way.
And crowds to Caesarea flock
To attend the solemn day.

The robes are ready, rich with gold,
Even like a bridal dress,
Which at the altar she will wear
When self-devoted she stands there
In all her loveliness.

And that coarse habit too, which she
Must then j)ut on, is made,
Therein to be for life and death
Unchangeably array'd.

"This night, . . this precious night is ours, . .
Late, late, I come to you;
But all that must be dared, or done.
Prepared to dare and do."

"Thou hast hesitated long!" said Abibas,
And thou hast done amiss,
In praying to Him whom I name not,
That it never might come to this!

"But thou hast chosen thy part, and here thou art;
And thou shalt have thy desire.
And though at the eleventh hour
Thou hast come to serve our Prince of Power,
He will give thee in full thine hire.

" These Tablets take; " (he wrote as he spake,)
" My letters, which thou art to bear,
Wherein I shall commend thee
To the Prince of the Powers of the Air.

Go from the North Gate out, and take
On a Pagan's Tomb thy stand;
And, looking to the North, hold up
The Tablets in thy hand:

" And call the Spirits of the Air,
That they my messenger may bear
To the place whither he would pass,
And there present him to their Prince
In the name of Abibas.

The passage will be swift and safe.
No danger awaits thee beyond;
Thou wilt only have now to sign and seal,
And hereafter to pay the Bond."

II.

Shunning human sight, like a thief in the night,
Eleemon made no delay,
But went unto a Pagan's tomb
Beside the public way.

Enclosed with barren elms it stood,
There planted when the dead
Within the last abode of man
Had been deposited.

And thrice ten years those barren trees,
Enjoying light and air,
Had grown and flourished, while the dead
In darkness mouldered there.

Long had they overtopt the tomb:
And closed was now that upper room
Where friends were wont to pour,
Upon the honor'd dust below,
Libations through the floor.

There on that unblest monument
The young man took his stand,
And northward he the tablets held
In his uplifted hand.

A courage not his own he felt,
A wicked fortitude,
Wherewith bad Influences unseen '
That hour his heart endued.

The rising Moon grew pale in heaven
At that unhappy sight;
And all the blessed Stars seem'd then

To close their twinkling light;
And a shuddering in the elms was heard,
Though winds were still that night.

He call'd the Spirits of the Air,
He call'd them in the name
Of Abibas; and at the call
The attendant Spirits came.

A strong hand which he could not sec
Took his uplifted hand;
He felt a strong arm circle him,
And lift him from his stand;

A whirr of unseen wings he heard
About him everywhere,
Which onward, with a mighty force,
Impell'd him through the air.

Fast through the middle sky and far
It hurried him along;
The Hurricane is not so swift,
The Torrent not so strong:

The Lightning travels not so fast.
The Sunbeams not so far:
And now behind him he hath left
The Moon and every Star.

And still erect as on the tomb
In impious act he stood.
Is he rapt onward . . "onward... still
In that fix'd attitude.

But as he from the living world
Approach'd where Spirits dwell,
His bearers there in thinner air
Were dimly visible;

Shapeless, and scarce to be descried
In darkness where they flew;
But still as they advanced, the more
And more distinct they grew:

And when their way fast-speeding they
Through their own region went,
Then were they in their substance seen
The angelic form, the fiendish mien,
Face, look and lineament.

Behold where dawns before them now,
Far off, the boreal ray,
(. Sole daylight of that frozen zone.
The limit of their way.

In that drear realm, of outer night,
Like the shadow, or the ghost of light.

It moved in the restless skies,
And went and came, like a feeble flame
That flickers before it dies.

There the Fallen Seraph reign'd supreme
Amid the utter waste;
There on the everlasting ice
His dolorous throne was placed.

Son of the Morning! is it then
For this that thou hast given
Thy seat, pre-eminent among
The hierarchies of Heaven?

As if dominion here could joy
To blasted pride impart;
Or this cold region slake the fire
Of Hell within the heart!

Thither the Evil Angels bear
The youth, and rendering homage there
Their service they evince,
And in the name of Abibas
Present him to their Prince:

Just as they seized him when he made
Tile Sorcerer's mandate known,
In that same act and attitude
They set him before the throne.

The Fallen Seraph cast on him
A dark disdainful look;
And from his raised hand scornfully
"The proffered tablets took.

"Aye, . . love!" he cried. " It serves me well.
There was the Trojan boy, . .
His love brought forth a ten years' war.

And fired the towers of Troy, c
"And when my own Mark Antony
Against young Caesar strove,
And Rome's whole world was set in arms
The cause was, . . all for love!

Some for ambition sell themselves,
By avarice some are driven;
Pride, envy, hatred, best will move
Some souls, and some for only love
Renounce their hopes of Heaven.

Yes, of all human follies, love,
Methinks, hath served me best.
The Apple had done but little for me
If Eve had not done the rest.

" Well then, young Amorist, whom love
Hath brought unto this pass,
I am willing to perform the word
Of my servant Abibas.

" Thy Master's daughter shall be thine,
And with her sire's consent;
And not more to thy heart's desire
Than to her own content.

" Yea, more, . .I give thee with the girl,
"Thine after-days to bless,
Health, wealth, long life, and whatsoe'er
The world calls happiness.

But, mark me! . . on conditions, youth!
No paltering here we know!
Dost thou here, solemnly, this hoar.
"Thy hope of Heaven forego?

Dost thou renounce thy baptism.
And bind thyself to me.
My woful portion to partake
Through all eternity?

"No lurking purpose shall avail,
When youth may fail and courage quail,
To cheat me by contrition!
I will have thee written down among
The Children of Perdition.

" Remember, I deceive thee not.
Nor have I tempted thee!
Thou comest of thine own accord.
And actest knowingly.
" Dost thou, who now to choose art free.

For ever pledge thyself to me?
As I shall help thee, say!"...
" I do; so help me, Satan!" said
The wilful castaway.

" A resolute answer," quoth the Fiend;
" And now then. Child of Dust,
In further proof of that firm heart,
Thou wilt sign a Bond before we part,
For I take thee not on trust!"

Swift as thought a scroll and a reed were brought,
And to Eleemon's breast,
Just where the heart-stroke plays, the point
Of the reed was gently press'd.

It pierced not in, nor touched the skin;
But the sense that it caused was such,
As when an electric pellet of light
Comes forcibly out at a touch.

A sense no sooner felt than gone.
But with that short feeling then
A drop of his heart's blood came forth
And fill'd the fatal pen.

And with that pen accurs'd he signed
The execrable scroll, .
Whereby he to perdition bound
His miserable soul.

Eleemon, Eleemon!" then said the Demon,
The girl shall be thine,
By the tie she holds divine,

Till time that tie shall sever;
And by this writing thou art mine,
For ever and ever and ever!"

III.

Look at yon silent dwelling now!
A heavenly sight is there,
Where Cyra in her chamber kneels
Before the Cross in prayer.

She is not loth to leave the world;
For she hath been taught with joy
To think that prayer and praise thenceforth
Will be lier life's employ.

And thus her mind hath she inclined.
Her pleasure being still
(An only child and motherless,)
To do her Father's will.

The moonlight falls upon her face,
Upraised in fervor meek,
While peaceful tears of piety
Are stealing down her cheek.

That duty done, the harmless maid
Disposed herself to rest;
No sin, no sorrow in her soul,
No trouble in her breast.

But when upon the pillow then,
Composed, she laid her head.
She little thought what unseen Powers
Kept watch beside her bed.

A double ward had she that night,
When evil near her drew;
Her own Good Angel guarding her,
And Eleemon's too.

Their charge it was to keep her sale
From all unholy things;
And 0 er her while she slept, they spread
The shadow of their wings.

So when an Evil Dream drew nigh
They barr'd him from access,
Nor suffered him to reach her with
A breath of sinfulness.

But with his instigations they
A hallowing influence blent,
And made his fiendish ministry
"Subserve to their intent.

Thus while in troubled sleep she lay.
Strange impulses were given.
Emotions earthly and of earth,
With heavenly ones of Heaven.

And now the nightingale hath ceased
Her strain, who all night long
Hath in the garden rosier trill'd
A rich and rapturous song.

The storks on roof and dome and tower
Forbear their clattering din,
As now the motions and the sounds
Of daily life begin.

Then as from dreams that seem'd no dream
The wondering Maid awoke,
A low sweet voice was in her ear;
Such as we might expect to hear
If some Good Angel spoke.

According with her dreams, it said,
"So, Cyra, must it be;
The duties of a wedded life
Hath Heaven ordain'd for thee."

This was no dream full well she knew;
For open-eyed she lay,
Conscious of thought and wakefulness
And in the light of day;
And twice it spake, if doubt had been.
To do all doubt away.

Alas! but how shall she make known
This late and sudden change?
Or how obtain belief for what
Even to herself is strange?

How will her Father brook a torn
That must to all seem shame?
How bear to think that vulgar tongues
Are busy with her name!

That she should for a voice, . .a dream,
Expose herself to be the theme
Of wonder and of scorn; . .
Public as her intent had been,
And this the appointed morn!

The Nuns even now are all alert;
The altar hath been dress'd,
The scissors that should clip her hair
Provided, and the black hood there,
And there the sable vest.

And there the Priests are robing now;
The Singers in their station;
Hark! in the city she can hear
The stir of expectation!

Through every gate the people poor,
And guests on roof and porch and tower
Expectant take their place;
The streets are swarming, and the church
Already fills apace.

Speak, then, she must: her heart she felt
This night had changed its choice;
Nor dared the Maiden disobey,,.
Nor did she wish to, (sooth to say), . .
That sweet and welcome voice.

Her Father comes: she studies not
For gloss, or for pretence;
The plain straight course will Cyra take,
(Which none without remorse forsake,)
Of truth and innocence.

" O Father, hear me patiently!"
The blushing Maiden said;
" I tremble. Father, while I speak;
But surely not for dread!

If all my wishes have till now
Found favour in thy sight,
And ever to perform thy will
Hath been my best delight,
Why should I fear to tell thee now
The visions of this night?

" I stood in a dream at the altar, . .
But it was as an earthly Bride;
And Eleemon, thy freedman
Was the Bridegroom at my side.

" Thou, Father, gayest me to him,
With thy free and full consent;
And, . .why should I dissemble it? . .
Methought I was content.

Months then and years were crowded
In the course of that busy night;
I clasp'd a baby to my breast.

And, oh! with what delight!
Yea, I was fruitful as a Vine;
Our heavenly Parent me and mine

In all things seem'd to bless;
Our ways were ways of peace, our paths
. Were paths of pleasantness.

When I taught lisping lips to pray,
The joy it was to me,
O Father, thus to train these plants
For immortality!

I saw their little winning ways
Their grandsire's love engage;
Methought they were the pride, the joy,
The crown of his old age.

When from the vision I awoke,
A voice was in my ear, . .
A waking voice, . . I heard it twice;
No human tongue was near;

" No human utterance so could reach
The secret soul, no human speech
So make-the soul rejoice;
In hearing it I felt and knew
It was an Angel's voice!

And thus in words distinct it said,
"So, Cyra, must it be!
The duties of a wedded life
Hath Heaven "ordain'd for thee.' "

Her cheek was like the new-blown rose,
While thus she told her tale;
Proterius listened earnestly.
And as he heard grew pale.

For he, too, in the dreams of night
At the altar had seem'd to stand.
And to Eleemon, his freedman.
Had given his daughter's hand.

Their offspring, courting his caress,
About his knees had throng'd;
A lovely progeny, in whom.
When he was in the silent tomb,
His line should be prolonged.

And he had heard a waking voice.
Which said it so must be,
Pronouncing upon Cyra's name
A holiest eulogy:

Her shall her husband praise, and her
Her children blest shall call:
Many daughters have done virtuously.
But thine excelleth them all!"

No marvel if his heart were moved;
The dream he saw was one:
He kiss'd his trembling child, and said
The will of Heaven be done!"

Little did child or sire in this
The work of sorcery fear!
As little did Eleemon think
That the hand of Heaven was here.

IV.

From house to house, from street to street
The rapid rumour flies;
Incredulous ears it found, and hands
Are lifted in surprise;
And tongues through all the astonish'd town
Are busier now than eyes.

So sudden and so strange a change!
A Freedman, too, the choice!
The shame, . . the scandal, . . and for what?
A vision and a voice!

Had she not chosen the strait gate, . .
The narrow way, . . the holy state, . .

The Sanctuary's abode?
Would Heaven call back its votary
To the broad and beaten road?

"To carnal wishes would it turn
The mortified intent?
For this are miracles vouchsafed!
For this are Angels sent!

" A plain collusion! a device
Between the girl and youth!
Good easy man must the Father be,
To take such tale for truth!"

So judged the acrid and the austere,
And they whose evil heart
Inclines them, in whate'er betides,
To take the evil part.

But others, whom a kindlier frame
To better thoughts inclined,
Preserved, amid their wonderment.
An equitable mind.

They would not of Proterius thus
Injuriously misdeem, . .
A grave, good man, and with the wise
For wisdom in esteem.

No easy ear, or vain belief,
Would he to falsehood lend;
Nor ever might light motive him
From well- weighed purpose bend.

And surely on his pious child,
The gentle Cyra, meek and mild.

Could no suspicion rest;
For in this daughter he had been
Above all fathers blest.

As dutiful as beautiful,
Her praise was widely known.
Being one who, as she grew in years.
Had still in goodness grown.

And what though Eleemon were
A man of lowly birth?
Enough it was if Nature had
Ennobled him with worth.

" This was no doubtful thing," they said,
" For he had in the house been bred,
Nor e'er from thence removed;
But there from childhood had been known.
And trusted and approved.

"Such as he was, his qualities
Might to the world excuse
The Maid and Father for their choice.
Without the vision and the voice,
Had they been free to choose.

But Heaven by miracle had made
That manifested will must set
All doubtful thoughts to rest.
Mysterious though they be, the ways
Of Providence are best."

The wondering City thus discoursed;
To Abibas alone
The secret truth, and even to him
"But half the truth, was known.

Meantime the Church hath been prepared
For spousal celebration;
The Sisters to their cells retire,
Amazed at such mutation.

The habit and hood of camel's hair,
Which with the sacred scissor there
On the altar were display'd.
Are taken thence, and in their stead
The marriage rings are laid.

Behold, in garments gay with gold,
For other spousals wrought,
The Maiden from her Father's house
With bridal pomp is brought.

And now before the Holy Door
In the Ante-nave they stand;
The Bride and Bridegroom side by Side,
The Paranymphs in festal pride

Arranged on either hand. o
Then from the Sanctuary the Priests,
With incense burning sweet,
Advance, and at the Holy Door
The Bride and Bridegroom meet.

There to the Bride and Bridegroom they
The marriage tapers gave;
And to the altar as they go,
With cross-way movement to and fro,
The thuribule they wave.

For fruitfulness, and perfect love,
And constant peace, they prayed,
On Eleemon, the Lord's Servant,
And Cyra, the Lord's Handmaid.

They call'd upon the Lord to bless
Their spousal celebration,
And sanctify the marriage tie
To both their souls' salvation.

A pause at every prayer they made,
Whereat with one accord
The Choristers took up their part.
And sung in tones that thrilled the heart,

Have mercy on us, Lord! t
Then with the marriage rings the Priest
Betroth'd them each to each,
And, as the sacred pledge was given,
Resumed his awful speech;
Pronouncing them before high Heaven
His glory manifest.

This hour espoused to be,
Now and for ever more, for time
And for eternity.

This did he in the presence
Of Angels and of men:
And at every pause the Choristers
Intoned their deep Amen!

Then to that gracious Lord, the Priest
His supplication made,
Who, as our sacred Scriptures tell.
Did bring Rebecca to the well

When Abraham's servant pray'd.
He call'd upon that gracious Lord
To stablish with his power
The espousal! made between them,
In truth and love, this hour;
And with his mercy and his word

Their lot, now link'd, to bless.
And let his Angel guide them
In the way of righteousness.

With a Christian benediction.
The Priest dismiss'd them then,
And the Choristers, with louder voice,
Intoned the last Amen!

The days of Espousals are over:
And on the Crowning-day,
To the sacred fane the bridal train,
A gay procession, take again
Through thronging streets their way.

Before them, by the Paranymphs,
The coronals are borne,
Composed of all sweet flowers of spring
By virgin hands that morn.

With lifted tapers in array
They enter the Holy Door,
And the Priest with the waving thuribule
Perfumes the way before.

He raised his voice, and call'd aloud
On Him who from the side
Of our first Father, while he slept,
Form'd Eve to be his bride;

Creating Woman thus for Man
A helpmate meet to be,
For youth and age, for good and ill,
For weal and woe, united still

In strict society:
Flesh of his flesh, appointing them
One flesh to be, one heart;
Whom God hath joined together
Them let not man dispart!

And on our Lord he call'd, by whom
The marriage feast was blest,
When first by miracle he made
His glory manifest.

Then in the ever-blessed Name,
Almighty over all.
From the man's Paranymph he took
The marriage coronal;

And crowning him therewith, in that
Thrice holy Name, he said,
Eleemon, the Servant of God, is crown'd
For Cyra, the Lord's Handmaid!

Next, with like action and like words,
Upon her brow he set
Her coronal, intwined wherein
The rose and lily met;
How beautifully they beseem'd,
Her locks of glossy jet!

Her he for Eleemon crown'd
The Servant of the Lord, . .
Alas, how little did that name
With his true state accord!

Crown them with honour, Lord!" he said,
With blessings crown the righteous head!
To them let peace be given,
A holy life, a hopeful end,
A heavenly crown in Heaven!"

Still as he made each separate prayer
For blessings that they in life might share,
And for their eternal bliss,
The echoing Choristers replied,
" O Lord, so grant thou this!"
How differently meantime, before

The altar as they knelt.
While they the sacred rites partake
Which endless matrimony make,
The Bride and Bridegroom felt!

She, who possess'd her soul in peace
And thoughtful happiness.
With her whole heart had inly join'd
In each devout address.

His lips the while had only moved
In hollow repetition;
For he had steel'd himself, like one
Bound over to perdition.

In present joy he wrapt his heart,
And resolutely east
All other thoughts beside him,
Of the future, or the past.

V.

Twelve years have held their quiet course
Since Cyra's nuptial day:
How happily, how rapidly.
Those years have past away!

Blest in her husband she hath been;
He loved her as sincerely,
(Most sinful and unhappy man!)
As he had bought her dearly.

She hath been fruitful as a vine,
And in her children blest;
Sorrow hath not come near her yet.
Nor fears to shake, nor cares to fret.

Nor grief to wound the breast.
And blest alike would her husband be.
Were all things as they seem;
Eleemon hath every earthly good.
And with every man's esteem.

But where the accursed reed had drawn
The heart-blood from his breast,
A small red spot remain'd
Indelibly impressed.

Nor could he from his heart throw off
The consciousness of his state;
It was there with a dull, uneasy sense,
A coldness and a weight;

It was there when he lay down at night,
It was there when at morn he rose;
He feels it whatever he does.
It is with him wherever he goes.

No occupation from his mind
That constant sense can keep;
It is present in his waking hours,
It is present in his sleep;

But still he felt it most, o
And with painfullest weight it prest,. -
O miserable man!
When he was happiest.

O miserable man.
Who hath all the world to friend.
Yet dares not in prosperity
Remember his latter end!

But happy man, whate'er
His earthly lot may be,
Who looks on Death as the Angel
That shall set his spirit free,
And bear it to its heritage
Of immortality!

In such faith hath Proterius lived;
And strong is that faith and fresh,
As if obtaining then new power,
When he hath reach'd the awful hour

Appointed for all flesh,
Eleemon and his daughter o
With his latest breath he blest,
And saying to them, we shall meet
Again before the Mercy-seat!" "
Went peacefully to rest.

This is the balm which God
Hath given for every grief;
And Cyra, in her anguish.
Look'd heavenward for relief.

But her miserable husband
Heard a voice within him say,
Eleemon, Eleemon,
Thou art sold to the Demon!"

And his heart seem'd dying away.
Whole Caesarea is pour'd forth
To see the funeral state,
When Proterius is borne to his resting place
Without the Northern Gale.

Not like a Pagan's is his bier
At doleful midnight borne
By ghastly torchlight, and with wail
Of women hired to mourn.

With tapers in the face of day,
These rites their faithful hope display;

In long procession slow,
With hymns that fortify the heart,
And prayers that soften woe.

In honor of the dead man's rank,
But of his virtues more,
The holy Bishop Basil
Was one the bier who bore.

And with the Bishop side by side.
As nearest to the dead allied,
Was Eleemon seen:
All mark'd, but none could read aright,
The trouble in his mien.

" His master's benefits on him
Were well bestow'd," they said.
Whose sorrow now full plainly showed
How well he loved the dead."

They little ween'd what thoughts in him
The solemn psalm awoke,
Which to all other hearts that hour
Its surest comfort spoke:

" Gather my Saints together:
In peace let them be laid,
They who with me," thus saith the Lord,
Their covenant have made!"

What pangs to Eleemon then,
O wretchedest of wretched men.

That psalmody convey'd!
For conscience told him that he too
A covenant had made.

And when he would have closed his ears
Against the unwelcome word.
Then from some elms beside the way
A Raven's croak was heard.

To him it seem'd a hollow voice
That warn'd him of his doom;
For the tree whereon the Raven sat
Grew over tlie Pagan's tomb.

VI.

When weariness would let her
No longer pray and weep,
And midnight long was past,
Then Cyra fell asleep.

Into that wretched sleep she sunk
Which only sorrow knows,
Wherein the exhausted body rests.
But the heart hath no repose.

Of her Father she was dreaming,
Still aware that he was dead.
When, in the visions of the night.
He stood beside her bed.

Crown'd, and in robes of light he came;
She saw he had found grace;
And yet there seem'd to be
A trouble in his face.

The eye and look were still the same
That she from her cradle knew;
And he put forth his hand, and blest her,
As he had been wont to do.

But then the smile benign
Of love forsook his face,
And a sorrowful displeasure
Came darkly in its place;

And he cast on Eleemon
A melancholy eye,
And sternly said, I bless thee not, . .
Bondsman! thou knowest why!"

Again to Cyra then he turn'd,
" Let not thy husband rest,
Till he hath wash'd away with tears
The red spot from his breast!

Hold fast thy hope, and Heaven will not
Forsake thee in thine hour:
Good Angels will be near thee.
And Evil ones shall fear thee.

And Faith will give thee power."
Perturb'd, yet comforted, she woke.
For in her waking ear
The words were heard which promised her
A strength above all fear.

An odor, that refreshed no less
Her spirit with its blessedness

Than her corporeal frame,
Was breathed around, and she surely found
That from Paradise it came.

And, though the form revered was gone,
A clear, unearthly light
Remain'd, encompassing the bed,
When all around was night.

It narrowed as she gazed;
And soon she saw it rest,
Concentred, like an eye of light,
Upon her husband's breast.

Not doubting now the presence
Of some good presiding power.
Collectedness as well as strength
Was given her in this hour.

And rising half, the while in deep
But troubled sleep he lay,
She drew the covering from his breast
With cautious hand away.

The small round blood-red mark she saw;
Eleemon felt her not;
But in his sleep he groan'd, and cried
" Out! out... accursed spot!"

The darkness of surrounding night
Closed then upon that eye of light.

She waited for the break
Of day, and lay the while in prayer a
For that poor sinner's sake...
In fearful, miserable prayer;

But while she pray'd the load of care
Less heavily bore on her heart,
And light was given, enabling her
To choose her difficult part.

And she drew, as comfortable texts
Unto her thoughts recurr'd,
Refreshment from the living well
Of God's unerring word.

But when the earliest dawn appear'd.
Herself in haste she array'd,
And watch'd his waking patiently,
And still as she watch'd she pray'd;
And when cast had risen.

She spake to him, and said;
My Father's Ghost I have seen;
I heard his voice, . . an awful voice! . .
And so hast thou, I ween!"

"But paler then he grew,
And over his whole countenance
There came a deathlike hue.

Still he controul'd himself, and sought
Her question to beguile;
A faint and hollow smile, . .

"Cyra," he said, thy thoughts possest
With one too painful theme.

Their own imaginations
Let not my dearest, best beloved,
Dissemble not with me thus!
Ill it becomes me to forget
What dreams have been to us!

Thinkest thou there can be peace for me
Near to me as thou art,
While some unknown and fearful sin
Is festering at thy heart?

Till thou hath wash'd away with tears
The red spot from thy breast!

" Thus to conceal thy crime from me,
It is no tenderness!
The worst is better known than fear'd.
Whatever it be, confess;

Like an aspen leaf he trembled;
And his imploring eye
Could utter their dreaded reply.

O dearly loved, as dearly bought.
My sin and punishment I had thought
Tt) bear through life alone:
And all must now be known!

"On thee, me thinks, and only thee
Dare I for pity call:
Abhor me not... renounce me not, . .
My life, my love, my all!

" And Cyra, sure if ever cause
Might be a sinner's plea,
"Twould be for that lost wretch who sold
Who has bound himself by his act and deed
To the Prince of the Powers of the Air."
And hurrying him into the street.
Come with me to the Church," she cried.

Public must be the sinner's shame
As heinous his offence;
So Basil said, when he ordain'd
And never had such dismay been felt

Proclaiming up and down,
" The miserable sinner, Eleemon,
And beseeches all good Christians
To aid him with their prayers."

Many were the hearts compassionate
Whom that woeful petition moved;
For he had borne his fortune meekly,
And therefore was well beloved.

And liberal of its store;
They too whom Cyra's secret aid
In this, her day of wretchedness,
And from many a gentle bosom
Supplications for mercy were sent.

If haply they might aid
Sorely such aid he needed then!
Basil himself, of living men
The powerfullest in prayer,
For pity, rather than in hope.

So hard a thing for him it seem'd
To wrest from Satan's hand
The fatal Bond, which, while retain'd.
Must against him in judgement stand.

VII.

Dost thou believe," he said, that Grace
Itself can reach this grief
With a feeble voice, and a woful eye,
" Lord, I believe!" was the sinner's reply,
Help thou mine unbelief!" t
The Bishop then crost him on the brow.

And crost him on the breast;
And told him if he did his part
With true remorse and faithful heart,
God's mercy might do the rest.

" Alone in the holy Relic-room
Must thou pass day and night,
And wage with thy ghostly enemies
A more than mortal fight.

"The trial may be long, and the struggle strong,
Yet be not thou dismay'd;
For thou mayst count on Saints in Heaven,
And on earthly prayers for aid

" And in thy mind this scripture bear
With steadfast faithfulness, whate'er
To appall thee may arrive;
When the wicked man turneth away from his sin
He shall save his soul alive!"

" Take courage as thou lookest around
On the relics of the blest;
And night and day continue to pray, le
Until thy tears have wash'd away
The stigma from thy breast!"

Let me be with him!" Cyra cried;
If thou mayest not be there,
In this sore trial I at least
My faithful part may bear:

My presence may some comfort prove,
Yea, haply some defence;
O Father, in myself I feel
The strength of innocence!"

" Nay Daughter, nay; it must not be!
Though dutiful this desire;
He may, by Heaven's good grace, be saved
But only as if by fire!

Sights which should never meet thine eye
Before him may appear:
And fiendish voices proffer words
Which should never assail thy ear.

Alone must he this trance sustain;
Keep thou thy vigils here!

He led him to the Relic-room;
Alone he left him there;
And Cyra with the Nuns remained
To pass her time in prayer.

Alone was Eleemon left
For mercy on Heaven to call;
Deep and unceasing were his prayers,
But not a tear would fall.

His lips were parch'd, his head was hot,
His eyeballs throbb'd with heat;
And in that utter silence
He could hear his temples beat.

But cold his feet, and cold his hands;
And at his heart there lay
An icy coldness unrelieved,
While he pray'd the livelong day:

A long, long day! It past away
In dreadful expectation;
Yet free throughout the day was he
From outward molestation.

Nor sight appeared, nor voice was heard,
Though every moment both he fear'd;
The Spirits of the Air
Were busy the while in infusing
Suggestions of despair.

And he in strong endeavor still
Against them strove with earnest will;

Heart-piercing was his cry,
Heart-breathed his groaning; but it seem'd
That the source of tears was dry.

And now had evening closed;
The dim lamp light alone
On the stone cross, and the marble walls,
And the shrines of the Martyrs, shone.

Before the Cross Eleemon lav:
His knees were on the ground;
Courage enough to touch the Cross
Itself, he had not found.

But on the steps of the pedestal
His lifted hands were laid; i
And in that lowliest attitude
The suffering sinner pray'd.

A strong temptation of the Fiend,
Which bade him despair and die,
He with the aid of Scripture
Had faithfully put by;

And then, as with a dawning hope,
He raised this contrite cry:
Oh that mine eyes were fountains!

If the good grace of Heaven
Would give me tears, methinks I then
Might hope to be forgiven!"

To that meek prayer a short loud laugh
From fiendish lips replied:
Close at his car he felt it,
And it sounded on every side.

From the four walls and the vaulted roof
A shout of mockery rung;
And the echoing ground repeated the sound,
Which peal'd above, and below, and around,

From many a fiendish tongue,
The lamps went out at that hideous shout;
But darkness had there no place,
For the room was fill'd with a lurid light
That came from a Demon's face.

A dreadful face it was, . . too well
By Eleemon known!
Alas! he had seen it when he stood
Before the dolorous throne.

" Eleemon! Eleemon!"
Sternly said the Demon,
" How have I merited this?
I kept my covenant with thee.

And placed thee in worldly bliss.
And still thou mightest have had,
Thine after days to bless,
Health, wealth, long life, and whatsoe'er
The World calls happiness.

" Fool, to forego thine earthly joys,
W'ho hast no hope beyond!
For judgment must be given for me.
When I sue thee upon the Bond.

Remember I deceived thee not;
Nor had I tempted thee;
Thou earnest of thine own accord,
And didst act knowingly!

" I told thee thou mightest vainly think so
To cheat me by contrition,
When thou wert written down among
The Children of Perdition!

" ' So help me, Satan!' were thy words
When thou didst this allow;
I help'd thee, Eleemon, then, . .
And I will have thee now!"

At the words of the Fiend, from the floor
Eleemon in agony sprung;
Up the steps of the pedestal he ran,
And to the Cross he clun m

And then it seem'd as if he drew,
While he claspt the senseless stone,
A strength he had not felt till then,
A hope he had not known.

So when the Demon ceased,
He answered him not a word;
But looking upward, he
His faithful prayer preferr'd:
" All, all, to Thee, my Lord

And Saviour, I confess!
And I know that Thou canst cleanse me
From all unrighteousness!

I have turned away from my sin!
In Thee do I put my trust!
To sue# Thou hast promised forgiveness
And Thou art faithful, and just!"

With that the Demon disappeared
The lamps resumed their light;
Nor voice, nor vision more
Disturb'd him through the night.
He stirred not from his station,
But there stood fix'd in prayer;
And when Basil the Bishop enter'd
At morn, he found him there.

VIII.

Well might the Bishop see what he
Had undergone that night;
Remorse and agony of mind
Had made his dark hair white.

So should the inner change, he ween'd,
With the outward sign accord;
And holy Basil cross'd himself,
And blest our gracious Lord.

" Well hast thou done," said he, " my son,
And faithfully fought the fight;
So shall this day complete, I trust.
The victory of the night.

"I fear'd that forty days and nights
Too little all might be;
But great and strange hath been the change
One night hath wrought in thee.'

O Father, Father!" he replied,
" And hath it been but one?
An endless time it seem'd to me!

I almost thought Eternity
With me had been begun.
" And surely this poor flesh and blood
Such terrors could not have withstood,

If grace had not been given;
But when I clasp'd the blessed Cross,
I then had help from Heaven.

The coldness from my heart is gone;
But still the weight is there.
And thoughts which I abhor, will come
And tempt me to despair.

"Those thoughts I constantly repell;
And all, methinks, might yet be well,
Could I but weep once more.
And with true tears of penitence
My dreadful state deplore.

Tears are denied; their source is dried
And must it still be so?
O Thou, who from a rock didst make
The living waters flow,
A broken and a bleeding heart
This hour I offer Thee;
And, when Thou seest good, my tears
Shall then again be free!"

A knocking at the door was heard
As he ended this reply;
Hearing that unexpected sound,
The Bishop turn'd his eye,
And his venerable Mother,
Emmelia the Abbess, drew nigh.

We have not ceased this mournful night,"
Said she, on Heaven to call:
And our afflicted Cyra
Hath edified us all.

" More fervent prayers from suffering heart,
I ween, have ne'er been sent;
And now she asks, as some relief.
In this, her overwhelming grief,
To see the penitent.

So earnestly she ask'd, that!
Her wish would not defer;
And I have brought her to the door,
Forgive me, Son, if I err."

Hard were I did I not consent
Toothy compassionate intent,
O Mother," he replied;
And raising then his voice, Come in,
Thou innocent!" he. cried.

That welcome word when Cyra heard,
With a sad pace and slow,
Forward she came, like one whose heart
W as overcharged with woe.

Her face was pale, . . long illness would
Have changed those features less:
And long-continued tears had dimm'd
Her eyes with heaviness.

Her husband's words had reach'd her ear
When at the door she stood;
Thou hast prayed in vain for tears," she said
While I have pour'd a flood!

" Mine flow, and they will flow; they must;
They cannot be represt!
And oh that they might wash away
The stigma from thy breast!

Oh that these tears might cleanse that spot,.
Tears which I cannot check!"
Profusely weeping as she spake,
She fell upon his neck.

He claspt the mourner close, and in
That passionate embrace.
In grief for her, almost forgot
His own tremendous case.

Warm as they fell he felt her tears,
And in true sympathy,
So gracious Heaven permitted then.
His own to flow were free.

And then the weight was taken off,
Which at his heart had prest; . .
O mercy! and the crimson spot
Hath vanish'd from his breast!

At that most happy sight,
The four with one accord
Fell on their knees, and blest
The mercy of the Lord.

" What then! before the strife is done
Would ye of victory boast?"
Said a Voice above: " they reckon too soon.
Who reckon without their host!"

" Mine is he by a Bond
Which holds him fast in law:
I drew it myself for certainty,
And sharper than me must the Lawyer be
Who in it can find a flaw!

" Before the Congregation,
And in the face of day,
Whoever may pray, and whoever gainsay,
I will challenge him for my Bondsman,
And carry him quick away!"

Ha, Satan! dost thou in thy pride,"
With righteous anger Basil cried,
Defy the force of prayer?

In the face of the Church wilt thou brave it?
Why then we will meet thee there!
" There mayst thou set forth thy right,
With all thy might before the sight

Of all the Congregation:
And they that hour shall see the power
Of the Lord unto salvation!"

A challenge fair! We meet then there,"
Rejoined the Prince of the Powers of the Air;
" The Bondsman is mine by right.
Let the whole city come at thy call:

And great and small, in face of them all,
I will have him in thy despite!"
So having said, he tarried not
To hear the Saint's reply.

Beneath the sign which Constantine,"
Said Basil, " beheld in the sky,
We strive, and have our strength therein,
Therein our victory!"

IX.

The Church is fill'd, so great the faith
That City in its Bishop hath;

And now the Congregation
Are waiting there in trembling prayer
And terrible expectation.

Emmelia and her Sisterhood
Have taken there their seat:
And Choristers and Monks and Priests
And Psalmists there, and Exorcists,

Are station'd in order meet.
In sackcloth clad, with ashes strown
Upon his whiter hair.

Before the steps of the altar,
His feet for penance hare,
Eleemon stands, a spectacle
For men and Angels there.

Beside him Cyra stood, in weal
Or woe, in good or ill.
Not to be severed from his side,
His faithful helpmate still.

Dishevell'd were her raven locks.
As one in mourner's guise;
And pale she was, but faith and hope
Had now relumed her eyes.

At the altar Basil took his stand;
He held the Gospel in his hand,
And in his ardent eye
Sure trust was seen, and conscious power
And strength for victory.

At his command the Chorister
Enounced the Prophet's song,
To God our Saviour mercies
And forgivenesses belong."

Ten thousand voices join'd to raise
The holy hymn on high,
And hearts were thrill'd and eyes were fill'd
By that full harmony.

And when they ceased, and Basil's hand
A warning signal gave,
The whole huge multitude was hush'd
In a stillness like that of the grave.

The Sun was high in a bright blue sky,
But a chill came over the crowd.
And the Church was suddenly darken'd,
As if by a passing cloud.

A sound as of a tempest rose,
Though the day was calm as clear;
Intrepid must the heart have been
Which did not then feel fear.

In the sound of the storm came the dreadful Form;
The Church then darken'd more,
And He was seen erect on the screen
Over the Holy Door.

Day-light had sickened at his sight;
And the gloomy presence threw
A shade profound over all around,
Like a cheerless twilight hue.

"I come hither," said the Demon,
" For my Bondsman Eleemon!

Mine is he, body and soul.
See all men!" and with that on high
He held the open scroll.
The fatal signature appear'd
To all the multitude.

Distinct as when the accursed pen
Had traced it with fresh blood.
See all men!" Satan cried again,
And then his claim pursued.

I ask for justice! I prefer
An equitable suit!
I appeal to the Law, and the case
Admitteth of no dispute.

"If there be justice here,
If Law have place in Heaven,
Award upon this Bond
Must then for me be given.

" What to my rightful claim,
Basil, canst thou gainsay,
That I should not seize the Bondsman,
And carry him quick away?

The writing is confess'd; . .
No plea against it shown; . .
"The forfeiture is mine.
And now I take my own!"

Hold there!" cried Basil, with a voice
That arrested him on his way.
When from the screen he would have swoopt
To pounce upon his prey;

Hold there, I say! Thou canst not sue
Upon this Bond by law!
A sorry legalist were he
Who could not in thy boasted plea
Detect its fatal flaw.

"The Deed is null, for it was framed
With fraudulent intent;
A thing unlawful in itself;
A wicked instrument, . .

Not to be pleaded in the Courts...
Sir Fiend thy cause is shent!
"This were enough; but, more than this,
A maxim, as thou knowest, it is

Whereof all Laws partake,
That no one may of his own wrong
His own advantage make.

" The man, thou sayest, thy Bondsman is:
Mark now, how stands the fact!

Thou hast allowed, . .nay, aided him
As a Freedman to contract
A marriage with this Christian woman here,
And by a public act.

That act being publicly perform'd
With thy full cognizance,
Claim to him as thy Bondsman thou
Canst never more advance.

"For when they solemnly were then
United, in sight of Angels and men,
The matrimonial band
Gave to the wife a right in him;
And we on this might stand.

" Thy claim upon the man was by
Thy silence then forsaken;
A marriage thus by thee procured
May not by thee be shaken;
And thou, O Satan, as thou seest.
In thine own snare art taken!"

So Basil said, and paused awhile;
The Arch-Fiend answer'd not;
But he heaved in vexation
A sulphurous sigh for the Bishop's vocation

And thus to himself he thought;
" The Law thy calling ought to have been,
With thy wit so ready, and tongue so free!

To prove by reason in reason's despite,
That right is wrong, and wrong is right,
And white is black, and black is white, . .

What a loss have I had in thee!"
" I rest not here," the Saint pursued;
" Though thou in this mayest see.
That in the meshes of thine own net
I could entangle thee!

Fiend! thou thyself didst bring about
The spousal celebration.
Which link'd them by the nuptial tie
For both their souls' salvation.

Thou sufferedst them before high Heaven
With solemn rites espoused to be.
Then and for evermore, for time
And for eternity.

" That tie holds good; those rites
Will reach their whole intent;
And thou of his salvation wert
Thyself the instrument.

" And now, methinks, thou seest in this
A higher power than thine;
And that thy ways were overruled.
To work the will divine!"

With rising energy he spake.
And more majestic look;
And with authoritative hand
Held forth the Sacred Book.

Then with a voice of power he said.
The Bond is null and void!

It is nullified, as thou knowest well.
By a Covenant whose strength by Hell
Can never be destroyed!

The Covenant of Grace,
That greatest work of Heaven,
Which whoso claims in perfect faith,
His sins shall be forgiven!

"Were they as scarlet red
They should be white as wool;
This is the All-mighty's Covenant,
Who is All-merciful!

His Minister am I!
In his All-mighty name
To this repentant sinner
God's pardon I proclaim!

"In token that against his soul
The sin shall no longer stand,
The writing is effaced, which there
Thou boldest in thy hand!

" Angels that are in bliss above
This triumph of Redeeming Love
Will witness, and rejoice;
And ye shall now in thunder hear
Heaven's ratifying voice!"

A peal of thunder shook the pile;
The Church was fill'd with light.
And when the flash was past, the Fiend
Had vanished from their sight.

He fled as he came, but in anger and shame,
The pardon was compleat.
And the impious scroll was dropp'd, a blank.
At Eleemon's feet.