_Walter_. Come with me; for my steed is weary; Our journey has been long and dreary, And, dreaming of his stall, he dints With his impatient hoofs the flints. _Prince Henry_ (_aside_). I am ashamed, in my disgrace, To look into that noble face! To-morrow, Walter, let it be. _Walter_. To-morrow, at the dawn of day, I shall again be on my way Come with me to the hostelry, For I have many things to say. Our journey into Italy Perchance together we may make; Wilt thou not do it for my sake? _Prince Henry_. A sick man's pace would but impede Thine eager and impatient speed. Besides, my pathway leads me round To Hirsehau, in the forest's bound, Where I assemble man and steed, And all things for my journey's need. (_They go out_. LUCIFER, _flying over the city_.) Sleep, sleep, O city! till the light Wakes you to sin and crime again, Whilst on your dreams, like dismal rain, I scatter downward through the night My maledictions dark and deep. I have more martyrs in your walls Than God has; and they cannot sleep; They are my bondsmen and my thralls; Their wretched lives are full of pain, Wild agonies of nerve and brain; And every heart-beat, every breath, Is a convulsion worse than death! Sleep, sleep, O city! though within The circuit of your walls there lies No habitation free from sin, And all its nameless miseries; The aching heart, the aching head, Grief for the living and the dead, And foul corruption of the time, Disease, distress, and want, and woe, And crimes, and passions that may grow Until they ripen into, crime! SQUARE IN FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL. * * * * * _Easter Sunday_. FRIAR CUTHBERT _preaching to the crowd from a pulpit in the open air_. PRINCE HENRY _and_ ELSIE _crossing the square_. _Prince Henry_. This is the day, when from the dead Our Lord arose; and everywhere, Out of their darkness and despair, Triumphant over fears and foes, The hearts of his disciples rose, When to the women, standing near, The Angel in shining vesture said, "The Lord is risen; he is not here!" And, mindful that the day is come, On all the hearths in Christendom The fires are quenched, to be again Rekindled from the sun, that high Is dancing in the cloudless sky. The churches are all decked with flowers. The salutations among men Are but the Angel's words divine, "Christ is arisen!" and the bells Catch the glad murmur, as it swells, And chaunt together in their towers. All hearts are glad; and free from care The faces of the people shine. See what a crowd is in the square, Gaily and gallantly arrayed! _Elsie_. Let us go back; I am afraid! _Prince Henry_. Nay, let us mount the church-steps here, Under the doorway's sacred shadow; We can see all things, and be freer From the crowd that madly heaves and presses! _Elsie._ What a gay pageant! what bright dresses! It looks like a flower besprinkled meadow. What is that yonder on the square?