A deep and fearful lustre in her eye,
A look of settled woe,.. pale, deadly pale,
Yet to no lamentations giving way,
Nor tears nor groans;.. within her breaking heart
She bore the grief, and kneeling solemnly
Beside him, raised her awful hands to heaven,
And cried, Lord God! be with him in this hour;..
Two things have I to think of, O my child,
Vengeance and thee; said Julian. For the first
I have provided: what remains of life
As best may comfort thee may so be best
Employed; let me be borne within the church,
And thou, with that good man who follows thee,
Attend me there.
Thus when Florinda heard
Her father speak, a gleam of heavenly joy
Shone through the anguish of her countenance.
O gracious God, she cried, my prayers are heard;
Now let me die!.. They raised him from the earth;
He, knitting as they lifted him his brow,
Drew in through open lips and teeth firm-closed
His painful breath, and on the lance laid hand,
Lest its long shaft should shake the mortal wound.
Gently his men with slow and steady step
Their suffering burthen bore, and in the Church
Before the altar laid him down, his head
Upon Florinda's knees.... Now, friends, said he,
Farewell. I ever hoped to meet my death
Among ye, like a soldier, .. but not thus!
Go join the Asturians; and in after years,
When of your old commander shall talk,
How well he loved his followers, what he was
In battle, and how basely he was slain,
Let not the tale its fit completion lack,
But say how bravely was his death revenged.
Vengeance! in that good word doth Julian make
His testament; your faithful swords must give
The will its full performance. Leave me now,
I have done with worldly things. Comrades, farewell,
And love my memory!
Of burning anger, grief exasperating
Their rage, and fury giving force to grief,
Hastened to form their ranks against the Moors.
Julian meantime toward the altar turned
His languid eyes: That Image, is it not
St. Peter, he enquired, he who denied
His Lord and was forgiven?.. Roderick rejoined,
It is the Apostle; and may that same Lord,
O Julian, to thy soul's salvation bless
Then fixed upon the Goth his earnest eyes.
No time, said he, is this for bravery,
As little for dissemblance. I would fain
Die in the faith wherein my fathers died,
Whereto they pledged me in mine infancy...
A soldier's habits, he pursued, have steeled
My spirit, and perhaps I do not fear
This passage as I ought. But if to feel
That I have sinned, and from
The Impostor's faith, which never in that soul
Obtained a place,.. if at the Saviour's feet,
Laden with guilt, to cast myself and cry,
Lord, I believe! help thou my unbelief!..
If this in the sincerity of death
Sufficeth,.. father, let me from thy lips
Receive the assurances with which the Church Doth bless the dying Christian.
His eyes to Heaven, and crossing on his breast
His open palms, Mysterious are thy ways
And merciful, O gracious Lord! he cried,
Who to this end hast thus been pleased to lead
My wandering steps! O Father, this thy son
Hath sinned and gone astray: but hast not Thou
Said, when the sinner from his evil ways
Turneth, that he shall save his soul alive,
And Angels at the sight rejoice in Heaven !
Therefore do I, in thy most holy name,
Into thy family receive again
Him who was lost, and in that name absolve
The Penitent.... So saying, on the head
Of Julian solemnly he laid his hands.
Then to the altar tremblingly he turned,
And took the bread, and breaking it, pursued,
Julian! receive from me the Bread of Life!
In silence reverently the Count partook
The reconciling rite, and to his lips.
Roderick then held the consecrated cup.
Me too! exclaimed Florinda, who till then Had listened speechlessly: Thou Man of God,
I also must partake! The Lord hath heard
My prayers! one sacrament, . . one hour, . . one grave,...
Count Julian with amazement saw the Priest
Kneel down before him. By the sacrament
Which we have here partaken, Roderick cried,
In this most awful moment; by that hope,..
That holy faith which comforts thee in death,
Grant thy forgiveness, Julian, ere thou diest!
Behold the man who most hath injured thee!
Roderick, the wretched Goth, the guilty cause
Of all thy guilt,.. the unworthy instrument
Of thy redemption, . . kneels before thee here,
And prays to be forgiven!
The dying Count,..Roderick!.. and from the floor With violent effort half he raised himself;
The spear hung heavy in his side, and pain
And weakness overcame him, that he fell
Back on his daughter's lap. O Death, cried he,.. Passing his hand across his cold damp brow,..
Thou tamëst the strong limb, and conquerëst
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