Abbot— Benedict!
Sprinkled with eyes, a wheel of God's own car
Attends our brother. You would best beware.
You know God hath him circled round about
With that that shall uproot the steadfast hills.
(Through the door, rear. Louis enters, carrying a flagon and a silver cup, his face showing terror. Seeing the Priest, he stops suddenly as though amazed, then enters slowly.)
Father Benedict—I care not were he nine times circled
round,
As Hell is, I would—
Abbot— (Lifting his hand.)
Let me finish. Then,
If with eyes open you will venture on,
Do it. The night is wild. Heaven hath shaken down
Many a pine upon the mountain tops,
And steeples too, no doubt, and towns, who knows?
No man can tell what dawn shall look on. Even
This house of God—Hark how the thunders break!
The winds are playing havoc with the world
And Order frightened hath plunged into the sea.
Louis—The southern gable has been blown down.
Abbot—(After a look of surprise.) And
Thrice in the mossed chapel tower the bell
Hath rung, and no hand touched it; as it were
A tocsin to alarm the world that Hell
Hath landed. Though the seas be blown away
And the everlasting hills be tumbled down,
In summer calmness still the soul of man
Stands like a fortress, sure against assault
And terrible as a gorgon's head to Hell,
And adamant to all her engines. But
Let wrath break out inside, and crash! the gates
Are down.
Father Benedict— (Tapping himself upon his breast.)
And Hell comes in.
Abbot— And Hell goes in
And ravins there.
Father Benedict—In me.