 | Edwin the Fair |  |
Scene II.
—A Chamber in the Tower of London.Dunstan
(alone).
Kings shall bow down before thee, said my soul,
And it is even so. Hail, ancient hold!
Thy chambers are most cheerful, though the light
Enter not freely; for the eye of God
Smiles in upon them. Cherished by His smile
My heart is glad within me, and to Him
Shall testify in works a strenuous joy.
—Methinks that I could be myself that rock
Whereon the Church is founded,—wind and flood
Raging and rushing, boisterous in vain.
I thank you, Gracious Powers! Supernal Host!
I thank you that on me, though young in years
Ye put the glorious charge to try with fire,
To winnow and to purge. I hear you call!
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Surrounds me, and my soul is breaking forth
In strength, as did the new-created sun
When earth beheld it first on the fourth day.
God spake not then more plainly to that orb
Than to my spirit now. I hear the call.
My answer, God, and Earth, and Hell shall hear.
But I could reason with thee, Gracious Power,
For that thou giv'st me to perform thy work
Such sorry instruments. The Primate shakes,
Gunnilda totters.—Gurmo!—And of those
That stand for me more absolutely, most
Are slaves through fear, not saints by faith. But no,
I would not they were worthier; for thus
The work shall be the more mine own.
Enter Gurmo.
What now?
Gurmo.
You called.
Dunstan.
I think I did. Send me those Bishops.
[Exit Gurmo.
—More eminently mine own. The Church is great,
Is holy, is ineffably divine!
Spiritually seen and with the eye of faith
The body of the Church, lit from within,
Seems but the luminous phantom of a body;
The incorporeal spirit is all in all.
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So drinks the refuse, thins the material fibre,
That lost in ultimate tenuity
The actual and the mortal lineaments,
The Church in time, the meagre, definite, bare
Ecclesiastical anatomy,
The body of this death, translates itself,
And glory upon glory swallowing all
Makes earth a scarce distinguishable speck
In universal heaven. Such is the Church
As seen by faith; but otherwise beheld,
The body of the Church is searched in vain
To find the sojourn of the soul; 'tis nowhere.
Here are two Bishops, but 'tis not in them.
Enter Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, and Ethelwald, Bishop of Winchester.
Save you, my Lords! Are there no seats? A stool—
Fetch me a stool.
[A stool is brought, on which Dunstan seats himself. The Bishops continue standing.
What business brings you here?
Oswald.
Lord Abbot, we have served thee faithfully,
And still obeyed thy voice through many a change.
We would that others, who have done no less
In outward show, were inwardly as true.
Dunstan.
Who fails?
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We do not say distinctly who,
Nor positively point by point wherein;
But this we say, that we whose hearts are known
From yours inseparable, are no longer prized
By some amongst our brethren as we were.
We hear that Bishops meet by tens and twelves
Unknown to us; we think unknown to you.
We therefore deemed it parcel of our duty
To give you warning.
Dunstan.
Is there more?
Oswald.
To-day
There spreads a rumour that Prince Edgar's force
Met on the Avon by the Heretoch
Was beaten back and scattered. Joining this
To what is surer, that Earl Athulf's power
Creeps close upon us, sundry citizens
That are of credit with the baser sort
About the suburbs, stir them up to riot.
Dunstan.
Doth nothing happen to such men? 'Tis strange;
Good men for whom the Church puts up her prayers
Are daily taken off.
Ethelwald.
'Tis said moreover
The Synod when it meets will not be pure
Nor of one mind.
Dunstan.
'Tis ignorantly said:
I am the Synod's mind. Sirs, you did well
To bring me what had reached you. Leave me now.
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And what you gather give me then to know.
[Exeunt Bishops.
This faction runs ahead. What mean they then?
Why, verily to abuse and by their wiles
Betray the Synod. Nothing less. But God,
Who to the Devil incarnate in the snake
Gave subtlety, denies not to His saints
(So they shall use it to His glory and gain)
The weapon He permitted to the fiend.
Erratic Spirit, here thou art, wild worm
Piercing the earth with subterraneous toil,
And there with wings scouring the darkened sky!
Still do I meet thee; still, wherever met,
I foil thee; sometimes as with Michael's sword,
Sometimes as with thine own. To arms! false Fiend;
We meet to-morrow in the assembled Church.
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