We know that from his relics Grace proceeds As light from sun and moon. In heaven a crown Rests on Saint Oswald's head: yet here on earth King Oswald's foot profaned our Mercian bound: Therefore in Mercian earth he finds not grave.' Silent those priests withdrew. An hour well-nigh Went by in silence. Then with forehead crowned And mourner's veil, and step of one that mourns, The Queen advanced, a lady at each side, And 'mid the circle stood, and thus implored: 'Not as your Sovereign come I, holy Sirs, Since all are equal in the House of God; Nor stand I here a stranger. Many a day In this your church, I knelt, while yet a child; Then too, as now, within my breast there lived The tenderest of its ardours and the best, Zeal for my kinsman's fame. That time how oft I heard my Father, Oswy, cry aloud, "O Brother, had I walked but in thy ways My foot had never erred!" In maiden youth I met with one who shared my loyal zeal, Mercian himself: 'twas thus he won my heart: My royal husband shared it; shares this hour My trust that 'mid the altars reared by us To grace this chiefest Minster of our realm May rest the relics of our household Saint-- To spurn them from your threshold were to shame.' She spake: benign and soft the answering voice: 'Entreat us not, thou mourner true and kind, Lest we, by pity from the straight path drawn, Sin more than thou. Thou know'st what thing love is, Thus loving one who died before thy birth! Up to the measure of high love and fit Thou lov'st him for this cause, because thy heart Hath never rested on base love and bad: Lady, a sterner severance monks have made: Not base and bad alone do they reject, But lesser good for better and for best: Therefore what yet remains they love indeed: A single earthly love is theirs unblamed, Their Country! Lo, the wild-bird loves her nest, Lions their caves:--to us God gave a Country. What heart of man but loves that mother-land Whose omnipresent arms are round him still In vale and plain; whose voice in every stream; Whose breath his forehead cools; whose eyes with joy Regard her offspring issuing forth each morn On duteous tasks; to rest each eve returning? And who that loves her but must hate her foes? Lady, accept God's Will, nor strive by prayer To change it. In our guest-house rest this night, Thou, and thy train.'