These he heeded not, but pondered On the volume in his hand, A volume of Saint Augustine, Wherein he read of the unseen, Splendors of God’s great town In the unknown land, And, with his eyes cast down In humility, he said: “I believe, O God, What herein I have read, But alas! I do not understand!” And lo! he heard The sudden singing of a bird, A snow-white bird, that from a cloud Dropped down, And among the branches brown Sat singing So sweet, and clear, and loud, It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing. And the Monk Felix closed his book, And long, long, With rapturous look, He listened to the song, And hardly breathed or stirred, Until he saw, as in a vision, The land Elysian, And in the heavenly city heard Angelic feet Fall on the golden flagging of the street. And he would fain Have caught the wondrous bird, But strove in vain; For it flew away, away, Far over hill and dell, And instead of its sweet singing He heard the convent bell Suddenly in the silence ringing For the service of noonday. And he retraced His pathway homeward sadly and in haste. When the monk returns to the convent, every thing is changed. He finds himself a stranger among the brotherhood. “Forty years,” said a Friar, “Have I been Prior Of this convent in the wood; But for that space Never have I beheld thy face.” At last the oldest recluse of the cloister recollects his name as that of a monk, who, a hundred years before, had left the convent, and never returned. And they knew, at last, That such had been the power Of that celestial, immortal song, A hundred years had passed, And had not seemed so long As a single hour! Elsie learns that the malady of the prince will never be cured unless by a miracle, or unless (which some Benedicts would pronounce equally miraculous) a maiden should offer her life for his, and die in his stead. She immediately expresses her desire to save the prince at this sacrifice; and to the exclamation of her mother, that she knows not what death is, she answers with a burst of religious fervor almost celestial: