XII.
He knelt like a child marble-sculptured and white
That seems kneeling to pray on the tomb of a knight,
With a look taken up to each iris of stone
From the greatness and death where he kneeleth, but none
From the face of a mother.
XIII.
"In your chapel, O priest, ye have wedded and shriven
Fair wives for the hearth, and fair sinners for heaven;
But this fairest my sister, ye think now to wed,
Bid her kneel where she standeth, and shrive her instead:
O shrive her and wed not!"
XIV.
In tears, the bride's mother,—"Sir priest, unto thee
Would he lie, as he lied to this fair company."
In wrath, the bride's lover,—"The lie shall be clear!
Speak it out, boy! the saints in their niches shall hear:
Be the charge proved or said not!"
XV.
Then serene in his childhood he lifted his face,
And his voice sounded holy and fit for the place,—
"Look down from your niches, ye still saints, and see
How she wears on her bosom a BROWN ROSARY!
Is it used for the praying?"
XVI.
The youths looked aside—to laugh there were a sin—
And the maidens' lips trembled from smiles shut within.
Quoth the priest, "Thou art wild, pretty boy! Blessed she
Who prefers at her bridal a brown rosary
To a worldly arraying."