University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—The Chapel in the King's Palace. Iolande and Robert the Hermit.
Robert
(kneeling at the altar).
Father, that throned in glory and in light
O'erseest all things, and this Earth thy work
In its first newness fresh from Thee survey'dst
And saw'st that it was good, behold it now
Old and adulterate with pain and sin
And cursed with strife, whilst anguish and despair
Cry piercingly, but not to Thee, for pity,—
Behold it now a world of blood and tears:
And as by power Thou mad'st it fair at first,
So by Thy mercy, so by Thine infinite love,
So by Thy heavenly washing, cleanse it now:
Almighty Father, spare this realm of France:
Father, this region, fairest of the earth
Whilst Thou wast with us, wanting Thee is foul;
And from its filth and rank corruption teem
All loathsome, all unutterable crimes.
Oh may the few that serve Thee serve Thee so
That many may be saved! Visit this vine
Which Thou didst plant and erewhile mad'st so strong;
Visit thy royal husbandman King Charles,
That, charged to tend it, he have Thee to aid,
And fainting not, have power to chase and smite
The wild boar breaking in. And if this Maid
Be chosen of Thee, a vessel of Thy grace,
Shower Thou Thy blessing on her high endeavour.
[He rises.
Maid, I adjure thee for the last time now
If any breath of earthly passion dim
Heaven's mirror in thy mind, renounce this rite;
For as the blessing were beyond all price
If thou and thine attempt indeed were bless'd,
So deep were thy damnation if, through sin
Of self-deceit, or frailty of the flesh,
Or wavering faith, or human loves at war
With heavenly, thou mad'st havock of this hope.

Iolande.
Hermit, I saw her; she was robed in white,
With golden hair that glisten'd in the sun,
And eyes that look'd in turn from me to Heaven
And Heaven to me, compassionate and pure
And radiant with celestial love and joy.
“I am Saint Mary Magdalene,” she cried;
And then, as though she caught the word from Christ,—
“Forward to Zoar; faint not, look not back;
If doubt assail thee, for that o'er thy soul
The shadow of a sin hath fleeted, deem
That doubt to be but devilish, and know
That dear and sacred in the sight of God
As innocence itself is blest contrition;
Else why was I beloved, and whence this crown?”
With that, the glory round her head shone forth
With sevenfold lustre, and she vanish'd.

Robert.
See;
The Duke, the King.

Enter the King, the Duke of Orleans, The Abbot of the Bernardins, with the phial, and Passac.
The King.
Brother, I prithee bid the Sacristan
Leave jangling of those bells.

Orleans.
I hear no bells;
'Tis but your fancy, Brother. I have heard
The ear hath phantoms, like as hath the eye,
And men hear sounds that are not. It is common.

The King.
True; once I thought my body was a church,
My head the belfry; and you'd scarce believe
What clangour and what swinging to and fro
Went on, and how the belfry rock'd and reel'd,
Till Death, the knock-kneed laggard, came to church;
Then all was peace.

Orleans.
No more of that. Look, look,—
There by the altar is that spotless maid
On whom the sainted Magdalene drops anew
Her tears of tenderest love, which, turn'd to balm,
With potent touch shall heal and fortify
This shaken yet majestic soul of France.
Make no delay.

The King.
Oh Virgin fair and pure!
Thou hast a goodly presence, and thy face
Is like the face of one who longs for Christ
And sees Him coming in the clouds with power;
And now thou drawest near, thou'rt not of earth;
For there's a glory round thee, and thine eyes
Are as that Seraph's which I saw long since
When God was good and gracious to my soul
And sent me messages of love. Oh maid!
I see a Heavenly message in thy face,
And know thee more than human.

Iolande.
Royal Sir,
It is a vision you behold, not me;
I see it too; whichever way I look
Is light and glory; for it fills the place,
And angels' eyes meet mine.

Robert.
Let none gainsay
That angels' eyes behold this work. Oh thou
Redeem'd from sinful love by love divine,
Who, weeping in the darkness nigh the tomb,
Wast by the angels bidden not to mourn
For Christ was risen, which heard thou went'st thy way
With fear and with great joy,—teach us to weep
In such wise that great joy may come through tears,
Knowing Him risen: thou debtor unto whom
Love brought forgiveness and forgiveness love
Redounding each to other, ask for us
That love and pardon our great debt demands:
Thou who with tears didst wash the feet of Christ,
Wash them again with tears,—wash them again
With tears of intercession for the sins
Of God's afflicted servant, Charles of France.

The King.
I know him—'tis the Hermit—he does well
To clothe himself in skins. Brother, a word;
It is not meet I undergo this rite
In Royal robes; I should be humbly clad;
I and the Hermit will change clothes.

Orleans.
Nay, nay,
This is no time to linger; kneel as you are.
Lord Abbot, place the phial on the altar.
Now, sainted Iolande, beloved of God,
Perform your hallow'd function.

The King
(kneeling).
Be it so.

Iolande.
I, as divinely call'd, and by the grace
I trust is given me, sign thee with this Cross;
And by God's power, and by the Cross of Christ,
And by the virtue of these sacred tears
Wept by Saint Mary Magdalene, enjoin
All evil spirits that inhabit here,
If any now inhabit, to depart,
And I command that none henceforth shall dare
To vex the soul of this anointed King.

Robert.
Amen! amen! so be it!

The King.
There they go—
That's Astramon,—that's Cedon; get ye hence,
False traitors! My Lord Abbot, follow, follow;
And sprinkle holy water in their track,
Or they will turn again. Good Hermit, follow.

[Exit followed by Robert the Hermit, the Abbot, and Passac.
Iolande.
Hear me, Angelic Host! Seraphic Bands,
And Spirits that erst imprison'd here on earth
Have burst your bonds and mounted, list to me,
A child of earth, to whose weak hands were given
The spear and shield of Christ,—oh bear me up
Now that my task is done,—lift up my heart,
For it is trembling, tottering, fainting, sinking,
And teach it such a song of joy and praise
As, borne aloft toward the mercy-seat,
May mix with hallelujahs of your own!
And oh that I were worthier, and that now,
Upspringing from my consummated task,
I might but be released and join your choirs
In endless anthems! God of boundless love,
Take me, oh take me hence!

Re-enter Passac.
Passac.
My Lord, the King,
As hath been sometime heretofore his wont,
Hath bid us take away his sword.

Orleans.
Well, well;
No matter; say no more.

Passac.
He calls for you.

Orleans.
I come. Oh, Iolande, a hasty vow
Was that I vow'd, that when thy work was wrought
I never more would ask to see thy face.
Once, once again I must. Ere the sun set
I bring thee tidings of the King.

A cry within.
My Lord;

Orleans.
I come, I come.

Iolande.
I fear you now no more;
Christ hath me by the hand and I am safe.

Orleans.
Passac, attend her to the Celestines.
Who calls so loud? I come, I say, I come.