A mission and a woman’s love is all
A man should crave for earthly happiness,
Sordino thought, while absently his gaze
Did fall upon the sweet Madonna’s face,
And he had none of these to lift and bless
His aimless, dark and love-tormented soul.
He humbly knelt before the ancient altar,
A stranger mid the holy solitude,
But what he said in pray’r must not be told
To all the world, whose cynic smile is cold;
Sufficient that the Saviour on the Rood
Imparted strength to him who seemed to falter.
Just then a clear-tongued bell rang from the tower,
With notes akin to one of his lost chimes,
Reminding him of his neglected quest;
He rose as if by a new zeal possest,
As when a mountaineer, who upward climbs,
Is fascinated by the vision’s power.
XV
That night he had a dream, in which he heard
The music of his bells across the seas,
Whose notes came clearly from a purple haze,
And wandered with the breeze from place to place,
A-dancing with the billows’ wild caprice,
And mingled with the cries of many a bird.
And floated round a many-colored sail,
Half-hoisted, flapping, listening between,
And eager to depart for that fair land,
Whence came the music, on whose purple strand
The ocean shifted from the dazzling sheen,
To emerald and amethystine pale.
And in the stern the smiling Stella stood,
A-beckoning to come with her away,
And he did hasten to the rocky shore,
But as he reached it, she was there no more,
The ship had carried her far out the bay,
And in its wake the waves were red as blood.
Then did he weep, until a gentle hand
Was laid upon his head, now bending low,
And looking up, a stranger met his eye,
Who said: “Why art thou here, why dost thou cry?
The melodies which o’er the waters go,
Proceed from chimes made in thy native land;
Thy own they are, go seek them till thou findest,
Then is thy journey ended, and the strife,
Then shalt thou know the joy which heaven will give,
So overwhelming that thou canst not live;
Now, henceforth thou must sacrifice thy life,
To those who bear the cross our God is kindest.”
When from his dream he woke, he pondered long
Its meaning, and at last waxed confident,
It was an angel that had spoken thus;
For calling in distress, God heareth us,
His unseen ministers to us are sent,
To give us light, and weeping change to song.
He also felt assured, his chimes had found
A place across the seas, though not in France,
May be in England or some British isle,—
This thought provoked a melancholy smile,
For Richard’s fame and knightly lance,
And Blondel’s song were with it bound.