SCENE I.

_A little chapel in a gloomy northern forest--Teresa on her knees before the image of the Virgin._

_Ter._ Thou, that didst bear a pain that had no healing-- An undivided misery, Which unto kindred heart knew no appealing, O, hear thou me! I tell thee not mine own peculiar woe; I tell thee not the want that makes me poor, For thou, dear Mother of God, all this dost know!-- But I beseech thy blessing, and thy aid; Assure me, where my nature is afraid, And where I murmur, strengthen to endure!

[_She bows her head, kneeling in silence--as she prepares to leave the chapel_, _enter_ PAOLO, _with a few snow-drops in his hand_.

_Paol._ Mother, in Italy I used to gather Sweet flowers; the fragrant lily, like a cup Chiselled in marble, and the rich, red rose, And carry them, an offering to Our Lady; Think’st thou she will accept such gifts as these, For they are not like flowers of Italy-- But they are such, dear mother, as grow here?

_Ter._ My boy, she will accept them! Gracious Virgin, She would receive a poorer gift than this; She would accept the will without the gift, For she doth know the heart! There on the shrine Lay them, my boy, and pray if thou have need; Fear not, for she is gracious,--so is God!

_Paol._ [_laying the flowers at the feet of the Virgin._ I have no prayer, dear mother, save for thee, And that is in my heart. I cannot speak it, Thou didst weep so, when last I prayed for thee!

_Ter._ [_kissing him._] It is enough, my boy, the Holy Mother Knoweth what is within thy inmost heart!

[_She again bows herself before the Virgin, then taking the child’s hand, goes out._