Chapter 22

POLONIA dead; and afterwards PATRICK. -- THE SAME.

PHILIP. Turn your eyes, and here you see The young tree of beauty blasted, Pale and sad the opening flower, The bright flame abruptly darkened; See here loveliness laid prostrate, See warm life here turned to marble, See, alas! Polonia dead.

KING. Philip, cease! proceed no farther! For I have not resignation To bear up with any calmness 'Gainst so many forms of wrong, 'Gainst so many shapes of sadness, 'Gainst such manifold misfortunes. Ah, my daughter! Ah, thou hapless Treasure fatally found for me!

LESBIA. Grief my feeling so o'ermasters That I have not breath to mourn. Ah! of all thy woes the partner Let thy wretched sister be!

KING. What rude hand in ruffian anger Raised its bloody steel against Beauty so divinely fashioned? Sorrow, sorrow ends my life.

PATRICK [within]. Woe to thee, sin-stained Irlanda! Woe to thee, unhappy people! If with tears thou dost not water The hard earth, and night and day Weeping in thy bitter anguish, Ope the golden gates of heaven Which thy disobedience fastened. Woe to thee, unhappy people! Woe to thee, sin-stained Irlanda!

KING. Heavens! what mournful tones are these? What are these sad solemn accents That transpierce my very heart, That cut through me like a dagger? Learn who thus disturbs the flowing Of my grief's most tender channels. Who but I should so lament? Who but I should wail thus sadly?

LEOGAIRE. This, my lord, is Patrick, who Having as you know, departed From this country went to Rome, Where the Pontiff, the great father, Made him bishop, and a post Of pre-eminence imparted To him here; through all the islands He proceedeth in this manner.

[PATRICK enters.

PATRICK. Woe to thee, unhappy people! Woe to thee, sin-stained Irlanda!

KING. Patrick, thou who thus my grief Interrupted, and my sadness Doubled with thy golden words, Hiding false and poisonous matter, Why thus persecute me? Wherefore Thus disturb the hills and valleys Of my kingdom with deceptions And new-fangled laws and maxims? Here we know but this alone, We are born and die. Our fathers Left us this, the simple doctrine Taught by nature, and no farther Have we sought to learn. What God Can be this, of whom such marvels You relate, who life eternal Gives when temporal life departeth? Can the soul, when it is severed From the body, be so active As to have another life, Or of bale or bliss, hereafter?

PATRICK. Being loosened from the body, And the human portion having Given to nature, it being only But a little dust and ashes, Then the spirit upward rises, To the higher sphere attracted, Where its labours find their centre, If it dies in grace, which baptism First confers upon the soul, And then penance ever after.

KING. Then this beauteous one, that here Lies in her own blood bedabbled, There, is living at this moment?

PATRICK. Yes.

KING. A sign, a proof, then, grant me Of this truth.

PATRICK [aside]. Almighty Lord! For Thy glory deign to hearken! It behoveth Thee to show Here Thy power by an example.

KING. What! you do not answer?

PATRICK. Heaven Wishes for itself to answer.-- In the name of God, O corse, [He extends his hands over the dead body of POLONIA. Lying stiff here, I command thee To arise and live, resuming Thine own soul, and thus make patent This great truth, before us preaching The true doctrine and evangel.

POLONIA [arising]. Woe is me! Oh, save me, heaven! Ah, what secrets are imparted To the soul! O Lord! O Lord! Stay the red hand of Thy anger, Of Thy justice. Do not threaten, 'Gainst a woman weak and abject, The dread thunders of Thy rigour, Of Thy power the lightning's flashes. Where, oh, where shall I conceal me From Thy countenance, if haply Thou art wroth? Ye rocks, he mountains, Fall upon and overcast me. Hating mine own self, to-day Would that to my prayer 'twas granted In the centre of the earth From Thy sight to hide and mask me! Ah, but why? if wheresoever My unhappy fate might cast me There I brought with me my sin? See ye, see ye not this Atlas Back recede, and this huge mountain Tremble to its base? The axes Of the firmament are loosened, And its perfect fabric hangeth Threatening ruin o'er my head, With terrific pride and grandeur. Darker grows the air around me, Chained, my feet proceed no farther, Even the seas retire before me. What, here fly me not nor startle, Are the wild beasts, which to rend me Bit by bit come on to attack me. Mercy, mighty Lord, oh, mercy! Pardon, gracious Lord, oh, pardon! Holy baptism I implore, That in grace I may depart hence. Mortals, hear, oh, mortals hear, Christ is living, Christ is master, Christ is god, the one true God! Penance, penance, penance practice! [Exit.

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