University of Virginia Library

X.

“Away—away! Prince Julian, fly!
“The alarum bell is pealing high,
“And ruthless hordes of vestal fiends
“Are rushing hither!”—Who ascends
Again that dreadful wall, so late
Scaled with a look that smiled at Fate?
'Tis Zulma—“Julian! leave me now,
“For I must share the death I wrought,
“And consummate my vestal vow
“In pain and darkness as I ought.”
She rose to give her purpose deed,
When Dion barred her path and cried—
“Prince Julian! as thou would'st in need,
“And when despair hath humbled pride,
“Crave mercy of the Power on high,
“Seize Zulma quick, and fly, fly, fly!”
In passion wild and wildered fear
The Prince obeyed the wise behest,
And grasped the heroic maiden ere
Her deed had left him thrice unblest,
And, ere a moment more had flown,
The high-soul'd nun and Prince had gone.
Count Dion watched till they had fled,
Then sprung below among the dead,
Where headstones gleamed to mock the gloom,
The desolation of the tomb.
Gently he raised the unconscious nun,
And laid her bleeding on his breast,
Thus—even thus, a blessed one
To pillow such a form to rest;
While, as he gazed in speechless woe
On her soft, lovely features graven
With death's dark lines, he saw below
Nor love nor joy, nor hope in heaven.
But scarce the space of lightning's glare
Was left to muse of his despair,
Or soothe the suffering Inez there,
The cloister horde by Clotilde led,
Exulting that their holy hate
Could now be poured on beauty's head
And virtue's bosom desolate,
Rushed like hyena troops upon
The gallant Dion—but, appalled
By his proud port, though all alone
He stood—they paused and shrilly called
The faggot priest, their alguazil,
To guard the holy cloister's weal.
Folding his bosom's dying bride
With one strong arm unto his breast,
And with the other waving wide
Iberia's sword that many a crest
Had cloven in the deadly fray,
He bade the throng yield ample way,
And sprung upon the ladder's height;
Then came the alguazil, the light
Of hell was in his scowling eye,
Dashing the trembling host aside
Like war-ship rushing in its pride.
The lover there that moment stood,
Not like a warrior trained in blood,
But like that Spirit who on high
His four-edged sword flashed o'er the sky,
And bade the sinning mortal die.
“Yield thee, blasphemer! Heaven commands.”
“Chain, then, the bold blasphemer's hands,
“And bind his madden'd spirit down
“Low as thy master's and thine own.”
“Darest thou the monarch's alguazil?”
“Bid ye the whelp-robbed lion kneel!”
“Dark ruffian! thou wilt rue this hour.”
“Ruffian!—not while my sword hath power.”
And with the word the unfailing blade
Low at his feet the opposer laid,
And Dion seized the escalade.
He springs with more than mortal might,
He rises—almost gains the height—
His hand is on the moss-grown wall—
This moment saves or ruins all!
A word, a thought, a look, a dream
May ratify the doom of years;
One glance, one quick electric gleam
May lead unto an age of fears!
Oh! Dion, nerve thy heart again,
One minute—spring—and thou art free,
O think—thy love—'tis vain—'tis vain,
Despair hath sealed thy destiny!
They tear away the cord-wove frame,
And thou art doomed to woe and shame!
Still Dion bears the double weight
With one torn, bleeding, numbing hand
Awhile—he falls—the scroll of Fate
Hath rolled its darkest record! “Stand,
“Exulting demons, stand ye there,
“And o'er all earth your triumph yell,
“And laugh o'er death and life's despair,
“For than ye worse reign not in hell!”
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