Halting at the foot of the throne, the head of the mission, Augustine, begins to declare with all the fervour of his nature the blessings and hopes of the new faith, and earnestly beseeches the king to forswear his gods. Ethelbert listens, but the hour of his conversion is not yet. His answer reveals his clear judgment and his open mind. “Your promises are fair, but new and uncertain. I cannot abandon the rites which my people have hitherto observed, but I will hold you harmless and treat you hospitably. Nor will I forbid any one whom you can convince to join in your faith.” No fairer answer can be expected, and Augustine begins his labours under happy auspices. Ere long Ethelbert is baptized with ten thousand of his subjects, and Augustine has done his greatest and most enduring work; he has won a kingdom for his Master. Pass on, Ethelbert and Bertha, linked in wedded love and in undying fame! It is your blessed privilege to plant the cross of Christ in the southern shires of this our England. Long and sore will be the struggle ere its beams irradiate the whole land, but it will conquer at last, and in the long roll of saints and martyrs who have striven valiantly in the divine work your twin names shall stand proud and high. [Illustration: =COLUMBA PREACHING.= (_From the picture by William Hole, R.S.A._)] [Illustration: =Augustine preaching to Ethelbert and Bertha.= (_From the picture by Stephen B. Carlill._)] [Illustration] THE SINGER OF THE FIRST ENGLISH SONG. “_Then felt I like some watcher of the skies_ _When a new planet swims into his ken._” Who comes hither? A simple, shy monk, half-withdrawing from the gaze of the bystanders, and unwitting that it is he whom men greet with such resounding acclaim. Kings and knights have flaunted their plumed helms and storied banners before us; but here is a conqueror in the realm of peace, a paladin of the mind and heart. His home was in the abbey which royal Hilda had founded on the wind-swept east cliff of Whitby. Not always did he wear the cowl of the monk. When the divine gift which placed him first in the muster-roll of English poets descended upon him he was an obscure cowherd who tended the cattle and slept in the byre. When the day’s work was done, and the servants of the abbey feasted together, he was wont to flee abashed as the harp came towards him and his turn arrived to tune the simple lay for the entertainment of his fellows.