An old romance to make young lovers weep. For these, the law becomes a fiery road, A Jacob's ladder through that vast abyss Lacking no rung from realm to loftier realm, Nor wanting one degree from dust to wings. These, at the last, radiant with victory, Lay their strong hands upon the winged steeds And fiery chariots, and exult to hold, Themselves, the throbbing reins, whereby they steer The stormy splendours. He, being less, rebelled, Cried out for unreined steeds, and unruled stars, An unprohibited ocean and a truth Untrue; and the equal thunder of the law Hurled him to night and chaos, who was born To shine upon the forehead of the day. And yet--the voice of darkness and despair May speak for heaven where heaven would not be heard, May fight for heaven where heaven would not prevail, And the consummate splendour of that strife, Swallowing up all discords, all defeat, In one huge victory, harmonising all, Make Lucifer, at last, at one with God. There,--on that All Souls' Eve, you might have thought A dead man spoke, to see how Drayton stared, And Drummond started. "You saw no ruby ring," The old sexton muttered sullenly. "If you did, The worse for me, by all accounts. The lights Burned low. You caught the firelight on my fist. What was it like, this ring?" "A band of gold, And a great ruby, heart-shaped, fit to burn Between the breasts of Lais. Am I awake Or dreaming?" "Well,--that makes the second time! There's many have said they saw it, out of jest, To scare me. For the astrologer did say The third time I should die. Now, did you see it? Most likely someone's told you that old tale! You hadn't heard it, now?" Ford shook his head. "What tale?" said Ben. "O, you could make a book About my life. I've talked with quick and dead, And neither ghost nor flesh can fright me now! I wish it was a ring, so's I could catch him, And sell him; but I've never seen him yet. A white witch told me, if I did, I'd go Clink, just like that, to heaven or t'other place, Whirled in a fiery chariot with ten steeds The way Elijah went. For I have seen So many mighty things that I must die Mightily. Well,--I came, sirs, to my craft The day mine uncle Robert dug the grave For good Queen Katharine, she whose heart was broke By old King Harry, a very great while ago. Maybe you've heard about my uncle, sirs? He was far-famous for his grave-digging. In depth, in speed, in neatness, he'd no match! They've put a fine slab to his memory In Peterborough Cathedral--_Robert Scarlet, Sexton for half a century_, it says, _In Peterborough Cathedral, where he built