It came at last, that day. Her convent grew In grace with God and man: the pilgrim old Sought it from far; the gifts of kings enlarged:-- It came at last, that day. There are who vouch The splendour of that countenance never waned: Thus much is sure; it waxed to angels' eyes:-- Welcomed it came, that day desired, not feared. By humbleness like hers those two fair deeds Were long forgotten: each day had its task: Not hardest that of dying. Why should sobs Trouble the quiet of a holy house Because its holiest passes? Others wept; The sufferer smiled: 'Ah, little novices, How little of the everlasting lore Your foolish mother taught you if ye shrink From trial light as this!' She spake; then sank In what to those around her seemed but sleep, The midnoon August sunshine on her hair In ampler radiance lying than that hour When, danger near her yet to her unknown, Beneath that forest tree her eyelids closed-- Her book upon her bosom. Near her bed Not danger now but heralds ever young, Saint Catherine, Saint Cecilia, stood once more, Linked hand in hand, with aureoles interwreathed: One gazing stood as though on radiance far With widening eyes: a listener's look intent The other's, soft with pathos more profound. The Roman sister spake: 'Rejoice, my child, Rejoice, thus near the immeasurable embrace And breast expectant of the unnumbered Blest That swells to meet thee! Yea, and on the earth For thee reward remaineth. Happy thou Through prayer his sight restoring to thy foe, Sole foe that e'er thou knew'st though more his own! Child! darkness is there worse than blindness far, Wherein erroneous wanders human Pride; That prayer of thine from age to age shall guard A realm against such darkness. Where yon kine Stand in mid ford, quenching their noontide thirst, Thy footsteps crossed of old the waters. God In the unerasing current sees them still! Close by, a nation from a purer flood Shall quench a thirst more holy, quaffing streams Of Knowledge loved as Truth. Majestic piles Shall rise by yonder Isis, honouring, each, My clear-eyed sister of the sacred East That won to Christ the Alexandrian seers, Winning, herself, from chastity her lore: Upon their fronts, aloft in glory ranged With face to East, and cincture never loosed, All Sciences shall stand, daughters divine Of Him that Truth eterne and boon to man, Holding in spotless hand, not lamp alone, But lamp and censer both, and both alike From God's great Altar lighted.' Spake in turn That Alexandrian with the sunlike eyes: 'Beside those Sciences shall stand a choir As fair as they; as tall; those sister Arts, High daughters of celestial Harmony, Diverse yet one, that bind the hearts of men