Who in the midst in solemn state appeared, And to the roof a thousand tapers blazed; Lights beamed; the censer's silver chains were swayed, And clouds of incense every hand obeyed. The Bishop was installed; the golden sun A FOREST SCENE IN THE DAYS OF WICKLIFFE. A LITTLE child she read a book Beside an open door; And, as she read page after page, She wonder'd more and more. Her little finger carefully Went pointing out the place; Her golden locks hung drooping down, And shadow'd half her face. The open book lay on her knee, She sate upon a mossy stone An open door beside; And round, for miles on every hand, Stretch'd out a forest wide. The summer sun shone on the trees, There was no garden round the house, There was no garden round about, Yet flowers were growing free, The cowslip and the daffodil, Upon the forest-lea. Ah, sir, it was my mother, She taught me both to read and spellAnd so she taught my brother; "My brother dwells at Allonby With the good monks alway;— And this new book he brought to me, But only for one day. "Oh, sir, it is a wondrous book, Better than Charlemagne, And, be you pleased to leave me now, I'll read in it again!" "Nay, read to me," the pilgrim said; To read of CHRIST, as was set forth On, on she read, and gentle tears "I've heard," said he, "the Archbishop, "The book, it is a blessed book! Its name, what may it be? Said she, "They are the words of CHRIST "Sancta Maria!" said the man, "Sancta Maria! Bless'd be GOD! Had this good book been mine, "Give me the book, and let me read! My soul is strangely stirr'd;- The little girl gave up the book, And the pilgrim, old and brown, And aye he read page after page; And as he read their blessed words Still, still the book the old man read, The little child she brought him out Nor did he raise his head Until he every written page Within the book had read. Then came the sturdy forester With a slain deer on his back. The old man rose with thoughtful brow, And enter'd at the door. The two had sate them down to meat, And the pilgrim 'gan to tell How he had eaten on Olivet, And drank at Jacob's well. And then he told how he had kr.elt Where'er our LORD had pray'd; How he had in the Garden been, And the tomb where he was laid; And then he turn'd unto the book, And all his comfortable words, As water to the parched soil, Thus through the midnight did they read, Until the dawn of day; And then came in the woodman's son To fetch the book away. All quick and troubled was his speech, 231 |