 | The Comrades |  |
202
“Trees of Righteousness”
Chained to the dungeon-wall she slept.
Rome, moonlit, revelled overhead.
She heard not. She had prayed and wept,
Haggard with anguish, wild with dread.
Rome, moonlit, revelled overhead.
She heard not. She had prayed and wept,
Haggard with anguish, wild with dread.
She was too fair, too young to die;
Life was too sweet, and home too dear!
God touch'd her with His sleep: a sigh—
And she had ceased to weep or fear!
Life was too sweet, and home too dear!
God touch'd her with His sleep: a sigh—
And she had ceased to weep or fear!
She slept, and, sleeping, seemed awake:
A fair Child held her virgin hand;
They walk'd by an enchanted lake;
They walk'd in a celestial land.
A fair Child held her virgin hand;
They walk'd by an enchanted lake;
They walk'd in a celestial land.
203
One thing she saw, and one she heard.
There were a thousand red-rose trees;
Each rose-red leaf sang like a bird.
“What trees, dear Child,” she asked, “are these?”
There were a thousand red-rose trees;
Each rose-red leaf sang like a bird.
“What trees, dear Child,” she asked, “are these?”
“These,” said the Child, “are called Love's Bower;
They fade not; constantly they sing;
Each flower appears more fire than flower.
Now, see the roots from which they spring!”
They fade not; constantly they sing;
Each flower appears more fire than flower.
Now, see the roots from which they spring!”
She looked; she saw, far down the night,
The earth, the city whence she came,
And Nero's gardens red with light—
The light of martyrs wrapped in flame.
The earth, the city whence she came,
And Nero's gardens red with light—
The light of martyrs wrapped in flame.
She woke with Heaven still in her eyes.
Rome, moonlit, revelled overhead.
She feared no more the lions' cries;
Flames were but flowers, and death was dead!
Rome, moonlit, revelled overhead.
She feared no more the lions' cries;
Flames were but flowers, and death was dead!
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