O God! give me again the power which Thou didst not of old deny me, and I will condense this new and fearful world, which does not understand itself, into _one_ burning word, but which one word will be the Poetry of the entire Past! VOICE IN THE AIR. Poet, thou chant'st a drama! THE MAN. Thanks for thy good counsel! Revenge for the desecrated ashes of my fathers--malediction upon the new races! their whirlpool is around me, but it shall not draw me into the giddying and increasing circles of its abyss! Keep but thy promise, Eagle; Eagle of glory! Jew, I am ready now for the vault of St. Ignatius! THE BAPTIZED. The day dawns; I can go no farther. THE MAN. Lead me on until we strike the right path; I will then release you! THE BAPTIZED. Why do you drag me on through mist, through thorns and briers, through ashes and embers, over heaps of ruins? Let me go, I entreat! THE MAN. Forward! forward! and descend with me! The last songs of the people are dying away behind us; a few torches here and there just glimmer through the gloom! Ha! under those hoary trees drooping with the night dew, and through this curdling, whitening vapor, see you not the giant shadow of the dead Past? Hark! hear you not that wailing chant? THE BAPTIZED. Everything is shrouded in the thickening mist; at every step we descend, deeper, deeper! CHORUS OF WOOD SPIRITS. Let us weep for Christ, the persecuted, martyred Jesus! Where is our God; where is His church? THE MAN. Unsheathe the sword--to arms! to arms! I will restore Him to you; upon thousands and thousands of crosses will I crucify His enemies! CHORUS OF SPIRITS. We kept guard by day and night around the altar and the holy graves; upon untiring wings we bore the matin chime and vesper bell to the ear of the believer; our voices floated on the organ's peal! In the glitter of the stained and rainbow panes, the shadows of the vaulted domes, the light of the holy chalice, the blessed consecration of the Body of our Lord--was our whole life centred! Woe! woe! what will become of us? THE MAN. It is growing lighter; their dim forms fade and melt into the red of morn! THE BAPTIZED. Here lies your way: this is the entrance to the Pass. THE MAN. Hail! Christ Jesus and my sword! (_He tears off the liberty cap, throws it upon the ground, and casts pieces of silver upon it.)_ Take together the Thing and the Image for a remembrance! THE BAPTIZED. You pledge your word to me for the honorable treatment of him who will visit you at midnight? THE MAN. An old noble never repeats or breaks a promise! Hail! Christ Jesus and our swords! VOICES (_from the depths of the Pass_). Mary and our swords! Long live our lord, Count Henry! THE MAN. My faithful followers, to me--to me! Aid me, Mary, and Christ Jesus! * * * * * Night. Trees and shrubbery. Pancratius, Leonard, and attendants.