Carloman is pacing backward and forward: he pauses by a crucifix set up at the further end of the hall.
CARLOMAN.
Thou sayest truly that I am—a King
He said Who laid His life down on the Cross:
So will I be, a King. I will possess
The great reality. I war and govern,
I can strike hard as Charles the Hammerer;
Men say I have my father’s qualities,
And in the brief months of my sovereignty
The infidel has recognised my blood:
But this is nothing! Phantom-Emperors
Have made the throne phantasmal. I have felt
In Zacharias, the great Pope, a force
That spreads like spring across the world. No more
Will I be petty marshal to a crew
That hack and murder, while the royal faces
Of wandering martyrs scintillate and thrill.
There is a glorious Betterness at work
Amid the highways and the solitudes;
I would be with it—in obscurity,
No matter!—with the river as it shapes
Its cisterns in the hills or where the wind
First draws its silver volumes to a voice:
Behind, at the beginning, from within:
A cry, a pang—what shall respond to it,
Who help me? I have fiery thoughts of God,
I would attempt Him. In the wilderness
Maybe He will unbosom.
[Enter a Servant.]
SERVANT.
The Archbishop
Of Mentz would see you.
CARLOMAN.
Blessèd Boniface!
He brings me my enfranchisement.
[As Boniface enters the Servant withdraws.]
Great Angel,
My spirit leaps within me to be born,
Beholding you.