The Wonder-Working Magician | Page 9

that city now the seat
Of the
mighty Roman empire,
Cradle of Christ's wider realm,--
Boon that
Rome alone could merit.
There of poor and humble parents
I was
born, if "poor" expresses
Well their rank who left behind them


Virtues, not vain earthly treasures.
Both of them by birth were
Christians,
Joyful both to be descended
From brave sires who with
their blood
Happily life's page had reddened,
Terminating the dull
scroll
With death's bright emblazoned letters.
In the Christian faith
well grounded
I grew up, and so well learnt it,
That I would, in its
defence,
Even a thousand lives surrender.
I was young still, when to
Rome,
In disguise and ill attended,
Came our good Pope Alexander,

Who then prudently directed
The high apostolic see,
Though its
place there was not settled;
For, as the despotic power
Of the stern
and cruel gentiles
Satisfies its thirst with blood
From the martyrs'
veins that shed it,
So must still the primitive church
Keep concealed
its sons and servants;
Not that they decline to die,
Not that
martyrdom is dreaded
But that rebel rage should not,
At one stroke,
one hour of vengeance,
Triumph o'er the ruined church,
So that no
one should be left it
Who could preach and teach the word,
Who
could catechise the gentile.
Alexander being in Rome,
I was
secretly presented
To him there, and from his hand
Which was
graciously extended,
With his blessing I received
Holy Orders,
which the seraphs
Well might envy me, since man
Only such an
honour merits.
Alexander, as my mission,
Unto Antioch then sent
me,

Where the law of Christ in secret
I should preach. With glad
contentment
I obeyed, and at their mercy,
Through so many nations
wending,
Came at length to Antioch;
And when I, these hills
ascending,
Saw beneath me in the valley
All its golden towers and
temples,
The sun failed me, and down sinking
Drew with him the
day, presenting
For my solace a companion,
And a substitute for his
presence
In the light of stars, a pledge
That he'd soon return to bless
me.
With the sun I lost my way,
And then wandering dejected

Through the windings of the forest,
Found me in the dim recesses

Of a natural bower, wherein
Even the numerous rays that trembled

Downward from each living torch
Could in noways find an entrance,

For to black clouds turned the leaves
That by day were green with
freshness.
Here arranging to await
The new sun's reviving presence,


Giving fancy that full scope,
That wide range which it possesses,

I in solitude indulged
Many and many a deep reflection.
Thus
absorbed was I in thought
When there came to me the echo
Of a
sigh half heard, for half
To its owner retroverted.
Then collecting in
mine ear
All my senses joined together,
I again heard more
distinctly
That weak cry, that faint expression,
That mute idiom of
the sad,
Since by it they're comprehended.
From a woman came
that groan
To whose sigh so low and gentle
Followed a man's
deeper voice,
Who thus speaking low addressed her:
"Thou first
stain of noblest blood
By my hands this moment perish,
Ere thou
meetest with thy death
'Neath the hands of infamous headsmen."--

Then the hapless woman said
In a voice that sobbed and trembled,

"Ah, lament for thine own blood,
But for me do not lament thee!"--

I attempted then to reach them,
That the stroke might be prevented,

But I could not, since the voices
At that moment ceased and ended,

And a horseman rode away
'Mong the tree-trunks undetected.

Loadstone of my deep compassion
Was that voice which still exerted

All its failing powers to speak
Amid groans and tears this
sentence,--
"Dying innocent and a Christian
I a martyr's death may
merit."--
Following the polar-star
Of the voice, I came directly

Where the gloom revealed a woman,
Though I could not well observe
her,
Who in life's despairing struggle,
Hand to hand with death
contended.

Scarcely was I heard, when she
Summoning up her
strength addressed me,--
"Blood-stained murderer mine, come back,

Nor in this last hour desert me
Of my life." -- "I am," said I,

"Only one whom chance hath sent here,
Guided it may be by heaven,

To assist you in this dreadful
Hour of trial." -- "Vain," she said,

"Is the favour that your mercy
Offers to my life, for see,
Drop by
drop the life-stream ebbeth,
Let this hapless one enjoy it,
Who it
seems that heaven intendeth,
Being born upon my grave,
All my
miseries should inherit."--
So she died, and then I . . .

SCENE VIII.
LIVIA, JUSTINA, and LYSANDER.
Enter LIVIA.
LIVIA. Sir,
The same tradesman who so presses
To be paid, comes
here to seek you,
By the magistrate attended.
That you were not in,
I told him:
By that door you have an exit.
JUSTINA. This untimely interruption
By their coming, how it frets
me!
For upon your tragic story
Life, soul, reason, all depended!--

But retire, sir, lest the justice
Should here meet you, if he enters.
LYSANDER. Ah! with what indignities
Poverty must be contented!

[Exit.
JUSTINA. They are coming here, no doubt,
Outside I can hear some
persons.
LIVIA. No, they are not they. I see
It is Cyprian.
JUSTINA. How? what sendeth
Cyprian here?

SCENE IX.
Enter CYPRIAN, CLARIN, and MOSCON.
CYPRIAN. A wish to serve you
Is the sole cause of my presence.

For on seeing the officials
Issuing from your house, the friendship

Which I owe unto Lysander
Made me bold herein to enter;
But to
know ([Aside.] Disturbed, bewildered
Am I.) if by chance ([Aside.]
What gelid
Frost is freezing up my