_Orsi._ [_Alone in black armour._] Yes, this must be the place-- Estella named, St. Juan's shrine, and sure 'tis for the princess Yon altar flames--Oh! hallowed vaults, how often Ye ring with prayers, which granted would destroy The fools who form them! Virgins there request Their charms may fire the heart of some gay rake, Who proves a wedded curse--There wives ask children, And, when they have them, find their vices such They mourn their birth--The spendthrift begs some kinsman May die, and vows that heaven shall share the spoil-- While the young soldier prays his sword ere long May blush with blood, (and with whose blood he cares not,) Swearing, if so his arm may purchase glory, He'll pay its price, a thousand human hearts. And all these mad, these impious vows are ushered With chant of cloistered maids, and swell of organs-- As could our earthly songs charm Him, who hears Seraphs and cherubs wake their harps divine, While the blest planets, hymning in their orbits, Pour fourth such tones as reached their mortal ears, Man would go mad for very extasy. Well, well! Such forms are good to force example On purblind eyes: but prayer from earth abstracted, Breathed in no ear but Heaven's; when lips are silent, But the heart speaks full loudly; thanks the music, Man's soul the censer, and pure thoughts the incense Kindling with grace celestial: that's the worship Which suits Him best who, past all prayer and praise, Esteems one grateful tear, one heart-drawn blessing, Which, thanking God, declares that man is happy. --Ha! Gleams of torches gild yon distant aisle! _Enter Father_ Bazil. _Bazil._ Stranger, What dost thou here, where now to offer Gifts at yon shrine, for wondrous favour shown her, The princess hastens? See, she comes: retire? _Orsi._ Your pardon, reverend father, I obey. [_Exit_ Orsino. _A procession enters of nuns and friars with lighted tapers, then follow_ Amelrosa, Estella, Inis, _and ladies, carrying offerings_. _Amel._ I thank ye, holy friends. Now leave me here, Where I must watch the live-long night and feed Yon sacred lamps, telling each hour my beads, And pouring thanks to heaven and good St. Juan. Till morn farewell. _Bazil._ May angels guard thee, daughter, Pure as thy thoughts, and join thee in thy prayers. [_Exeunt._ _Amel._ (_alone_) He is not here. Oh how my bosom throbs To know this fearful secret! Sure he cannot Have missed the place. _Orsi._ (_entering_) All's dark again and silent. Perhaps her courage failed her, and she's gone. If so, what must be done? No, no, a shadow Moves on the chapel porch. 'Tis surely she. _Amel._ Hark! steps! Orsino! _Orsi._ He. _Amel._ Oh, good Orsino! What brings thee here? Those words, _my father's life_, Like spells by witches breathed to raise the dead, Filled my heart's circle with a crowd of phantoms, Doleful and strange, which groan to be released. Thy news! thy news! Oh! speak them in one word, And let me know the worst.