Of an half dead yet still undying hope, 40 Pass visible before our mortal sense; So shall the Church's cleansing rites be thine, Her knells and masses that redeem the dead. THE SONG (_Sung behind the scenes, accompanied by the same instrument as before._) Hear, sweet spirit! hear the spell Lest a blacker charm compel! 45 So shall the midnight breezes swell With thy deep long-lingering knell. And at evening evermore In a chapel on the shore Shall the chanters sad and saintly, 50 Yellow tapers burning faintly, Doleful masses chant for thee, Miserere, Domine! Hark! the cadence dies away On the quiet moonlight sea, 55 The boatmen rest their oars, and say, Miserere, Domine! [_A long pause._ _Osorio._ This was too melancholy, father! _Velez._ Nay! My Albert lov'd sad music from a child. Once he was lost; and after weary search 60 We found him in an open place of the wood, To which spot he had follow'd a blind boy Who breathed into a pipe of sycamore Some strangely-moving notes, and these, he said, Were taught him in a dream; him we first saw 65 Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank; And, lower down, poor Albert fast asleep, His head upon the blind boy's dog--it pleased me To mark, how he had fasten'd round the pipe A silver toy, his grandmother had given him. 70 Methinks I see him now, as he then look'd. His infant dress was grown too short for him, Yet still he wore it. _Albert (aside)._ My tears must not flow-- I must not clasp his knees, and cry, my father! _Osorio._ The innocent obey nor charm nor spell. 75 My brother is in heaven. Thou sainted spirit Burst on our sight, a passing visitant! Once more to hear thy voice, once more to see thee, O 'twere a joy to me. _Albert (abruptly)._ A joy to thee! What if thou heard'st him now? What if his spirit 80 Re-enter'd its cold corse, and came upon thee, With many a stab from many a murderer's poniard? What if, his steadfast eye still beaming pity And brother's love, he turn'd his head aside, Lest he should look at thee, and with one look 85 Hurl thee beyond all power of penitence? _Velez._ These are unholy fancies! _Osorio (struggling with his feelings)._ Yes, my father! He is in heaven! _Albert (still to Osorio)._ But what if this same brother Had lived even so, that at his dying hour The name of heaven would have convuls'd his face 90 More than the death-pang? _Maria._ Idly-prating man! He was most virtuous.