Читать книгу The lost chimes, and other poems - Gustav Melby - Страница 10

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Vienna has a noble shrine; ev’n then

It vied in glory with all Europe’s fanes,

St. Stephen;—thither did he go one day,

To see its beauty, more perchance, to pray,

For he would fain seek solace ’mongst the manes

Of the departed than the crowds of men.

There in the dimness of the lofty nave

He tarried long and mused upon the past,

On visored knights who thither came to find

Forgiveness, and assurance to their mind,

That God did sanction that their lot was cast

With them who fought for the Redeemer’s grave.

Their sacred task he almost envied them,

To have a noble aim and be assured

That heaven its benediction on it smiles,

And loving hearts are with the weary miles,

For such a quest all things might be endured,

And death itself be life’s great diadem.

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.