Rienzi [86]
with one more than his equal; and remorse embittered his happiest hours. That gentle lady in that robber hold, severed from all she had been taught most to prize - mother, friends, and fair fame - only loved her seducer the more intensely; only the more concentrated upon one object all the womanly and tender feelings denied every other and less sinful vent. But she felt her shame, though she sought to conceal it, and a yet more gnawing grief than even that of shame contributed to prey upon her spirits and undermine her health. Yet, withal, in Montreal's presence she was happy, even in regret; and in her declining health she had at least a consolation in the hope to die while his love was undiminished. Sometimes they made short excursions, for the disturbed state of the country forbade them to wander far from the castle, through the sunny woods, and along the glassy sea, which make the charm of that delicious scenery; and that mixture of the savage with the tender, the wild escort, the tent in some green glade in the woods at noon, the lute and voice of Adeline, with the fierce soldiers grouped and listening at the distance, might have well suited the verse of Ariosto, and harmonised singularly with that strange, disordered, yet chivalric time, in which the Classic South became the seat of the Northern Romance. Still, however, Montreal maintained his secret intercourse with the Hungarian king, and, plunged in new projects, willingly forsook for the present all his designs on Rome. Yet deemed he that his more august ambition was only delayed, and, bright in the more distant prospects of his adventurous career, rose the Capitol of Rome and shone the sceptre of the Caesars.
One day, as Montreal, with a small troop in attendance, passed on horseback near the walls of Terracina, the gates were suddenly thrown open, and a numerous throng issued forth, preceded by a singular figure, whose steps they followed bareheaded and with loud blessings; a train of monks closed the procession, chanting a hymn, of which the concluding words were as follows: -
Beauteous on the mountains - lo, The feet of him glad tidings gladly bringing; The flowers along his pathway grow, And voices, heard aloft, to angel harps are singing: And strife and slaughter cease Before thy blessed way, Young Messenger of Peace! O'er the mount, and through the moor, Glide thy holy steps secure. Day and night no fear thou knowest, Lonely - but with God thou goest. Where the Heathen rage the fiercest, Through the armed throng thou piercest. For thy coat of mail, bedight In thy spotless robe of white. For the sinful sword - thy hand Bearing bright the silver wand: Through the camp and through the court, Through the bandit's gloomy fort, On the mission of the dove, Speeds the minister of love; By a word the wildest taming, And the world to Christ reclaiming: While, as once the waters trod By the footsteps of thy God, War, and wrath, and rapine cease, Hush'd round thy charmed path, O Messenger of Peace!
The stranger to whom these honours were paid was a young, unbearded man, clothed in white wrought with silver; he was unarmed and barefooted: in his hand he held a tall silver wand. Montreal and his party halted in astonishment and wonder, and the Knight, spurring his horse toward the crowd, confronted the stranger.
"How, friend," quoth the Provencal, "is thine a new order of pilgrims, or what especial holiness has won thee this homage?"
"Back, back," cried some of the bolder of the crowd, "let not the robber dare arrest the Messenger of Peace."
Montreal waved his hand disdainfully.
"I speak not to you, good sirs, and the worthy friars in your rear know full well that I never injured herald or palmer."
The monks, ceasing from their hymn, advanced hastily to the spot; and indeed the devotion of Montreal had ever induced him to purchase the goodwill of whatever monastery neighboured his wandering home.
"My son," said the eldest of the brethren, "this is a strange spectacle, and a sacred: and when
One day, as Montreal, with a small troop in attendance, passed on horseback near the walls of Terracina, the gates were suddenly thrown open, and a numerous throng issued forth, preceded by a singular figure, whose steps they followed bareheaded and with loud blessings; a train of monks closed the procession, chanting a hymn, of which the concluding words were as follows: -
Beauteous on the mountains - lo, The feet of him glad tidings gladly bringing; The flowers along his pathway grow, And voices, heard aloft, to angel harps are singing: And strife and slaughter cease Before thy blessed way, Young Messenger of Peace! O'er the mount, and through the moor, Glide thy holy steps secure. Day and night no fear thou knowest, Lonely - but with God thou goest. Where the Heathen rage the fiercest, Through the armed throng thou piercest. For thy coat of mail, bedight In thy spotless robe of white. For the sinful sword - thy hand Bearing bright the silver wand: Through the camp and through the court, Through the bandit's gloomy fort, On the mission of the dove, Speeds the minister of love; By a word the wildest taming, And the world to Christ reclaiming: While, as once the waters trod By the footsteps of thy God, War, and wrath, and rapine cease, Hush'd round thy charmed path, O Messenger of Peace!
The stranger to whom these honours were paid was a young, unbearded man, clothed in white wrought with silver; he was unarmed and barefooted: in his hand he held a tall silver wand. Montreal and his party halted in astonishment and wonder, and the Knight, spurring his horse toward the crowd, confronted the stranger.
"How, friend," quoth the Provencal, "is thine a new order of pilgrims, or what especial holiness has won thee this homage?"
"Back, back," cried some of the bolder of the crowd, "let not the robber dare arrest the Messenger of Peace."
Montreal waved his hand disdainfully.
"I speak not to you, good sirs, and the worthy friars in your rear know full well that I never injured herald or palmer."
The monks, ceasing from their hymn, advanced hastily to the spot; and indeed the devotion of Montreal had ever induced him to purchase the goodwill of whatever monastery neighboured his wandering home.
"My son," said the eldest of the brethren, "this is a strange spectacle, and a sacred: and when