so that the cross of his patron saint reflected by the light of the moon
from the emblazoned window pane might fall on the spot which was chosen
for his grave. Once again on this fateful night the Red Cross was
reflected on the sepulchral stone, and the opportunity which this
offered to take possession of the Book of Might undisturbed by the hosts
of darkness, must be taken without delay. Within the grave was one of
those ever-burning lamps, for the existence of which there seems to be
some historical evidence, and which was to serve in the present instance
as a further protection for the wizard against the fiends of night.
Deloraine’s task achieved “by dint of passing strength” with the aid of
a bar of iron handed him by the monk, the light
Streamed upward to the chancel roof
And through the galleries far aloof.
No earthly flame blazed e’er so bright;
It shone like Heaven’s own blessed light.
Before their eyes the Wizard lay
As if he had not been dead a day,
His hoary beard in silver roll’d,
He seem’d some seventy winters old;
A palmer’s amice wrapp’d him round,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea:
His left hand held his Book of Might;
A silver cross was in his right;
The lamp was placed beside his knee.
High and majestic was his look,
At which the fellest fiends had shook,
And all unruffled was his face;
They trusted his soul had gotten grace.
William of Deloraine hesitated to perform what seemed very like an act
of sacrilege. He was used to battlefields, but panic seized him in this
strange scene, and the monk was eventually compelled to warn him that
delay in such circumstances was dangerous.
“Now speed thee what thou hast to do,
Or, warrior, we may dearly rue;
For those thou may’st not look upon
Are gathering fast round the yawning stone!”
Then Deloraine, in terror, took
From the cold hand the Mighty Book,
With iron clasped and with iron bound:
He thought, as he took it, the dead man frowned;
But the glare of the sepulchral light,
Perchance, had dazzled the warrior’s sight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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