Roderick so long had to this hour looked on,
That when the actual point of trial came,
Torpid and numbed it found him: cold he grew,
And as the vital spirits to the heart
Retreated, o'er his withered countenance,
Deathy and damp, a whiter paleness spread.
Unmoved the while the inward feeling seemed,
Even in such dull insensibility
As gradual age brings on, or slow disease,
Beneath whose progress lingering life survives
The power of suffering. Wondering at himself,
Yet gathering confidence, he raised his eyes,
Then slowly shaking as he bent his head,
O venerable Lady, he replied,
If aught may comfort that unhappy soul,
It must be thy compassion, and thy prayers.
She whom he most hath wronged, she who alone
On earth can grant forgiveness for his crime,
She hath forgiven him; and thy blessing now
Were all that he could ask,.. all that could bring
Profit or consolation to his soul,
If he hath been, as sure we may believe,
A penitent sincere.
Oh had he lived,
Replied Rusilla, never penitence
Had equalled his! full well I know his heart,
Vehement in all things. He would on himself
Have wreaked such penance as had reached the height
Of fleshly suffering, ..yea, which being told
With its portentous rigour should have made
The memory of his fault, o'erpowered and lost
In shuddering pity and astonishment,
Fade like a feebler horror.
Seemed good to Heaven. I murmur not, nor doubt The boundless mercy of redeeming love.
For sure I trust that not in his offence
Hardened and reprobate was my
A child of wrath, cut off!.. that dreadful thought, Not even amid the first fresh wretchedness,
When the ruin burst around me like a flood,
Assailed my
An act of sudden madness; and this day
Hath in unlooked-for confirmation given
A livelier hope, a more assurëd faith.
Smiling benignant then amid her tears,
She took Florinda by the hand, and said,
soul. I ever deemed his fall
I little thought that I should live to bless
Count Julian's daughter! She hath brought to me
The last, the best, the only comfort earth
Could minister to this afflicted heart,
hairs may now unto the grave
Are they for whom the grave hath peace in store!
The wrongs they have sustained, the woes they bear,
Pass not that holy threshold, where Death heals
The broken heart. O Lady, thou mayst trust
In humble hope, through Him who on the cross
Gave his atoning blood for lost mankind,
To meet beyond the grave thy child forgiven.
I too with Roderick there may interchange
Forgiveness. But the grief which wastes away
This mortal frame, hastening the happy hour
Of my enlargement, is but a light part
Of what my soul endures!.. that grief hath lost
Its sting:..
I have a keener sorrow here,..
One which,..but God forefend that dire event, ..
May pass with me the portals of the grave,
And with a thought, like sin which cannot die,
Embitter Heaven. My father has renounced
His hope in Christ! It was his love for me
Which drove him to perdition... I was born
To ruin all who loved me,.. all I loved!
Perhaps I sinned in leaving him;.. that fear
Rises within me to disturb the
Which I should else have found.
The pious mourner turned her suppliant eyes :
O Father, there is virtue in thy prayers!..
I do beseech thee offer them to Heaven
In his behalf! For Roderick's sake, for mine,
Wrestle with Him whose name is Merciful,
That Julian may with penitence be touched,
And clinging to the Cross, implore that grace
Which ne'er was sought in vain. For Roderick's sake
And mine, pray for him! We have been the cause
Of his offence! What other miseries
May from that same unhappy source have risen,
Are earthly, temporal, reparable all;..
But if a soul be lost through our misdeeds,
That were eternal evil! Pray for him,
Good Father Maccabee, and be thy prayers
More fervent, as the deeper is the crime.
While thus Florinda spake, the dog who lay
Before Rusilla's feet, eyeing him long
And wistfully, had recognised at length,
Changed as he was and in those sordid weeds,
His royal master. And he rose and licked
His withered hand, and earnestly looked up
With eyes whose human meaning did not need
The aid of speech; and moaned, as if at once
To court and chide the long-withheld caress.
A feeling uncommixed with sense of guilt
Or shame, yet painfullest, thrilled through the King;
But he, to self-controul now long inured,
Represt his rising heart, nor other tears,
Full as his struggling bosom was, let fall
Than seemed to follow on Florinda's words.
Looking toward her then, yet so that still
He shunned the meeting of her eye, he said,
Virtuous and pious as thou art, and ripe
For Heaven, O Lady, I will think the man
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