When she is Queen, three steadfast purposes Have grown their causes to divine results.-- No young imagination did I train With such endeavor and for no reward.-- How often have I told her of the things She could perform when Queen, while silently And pensively she sat and, leaning, heard, Absorbed upon my face! her missal,--crushed By one propped elbow, its bent, careless leaves Rich with illuminated capitals Of gold and purple,--open on her lap. Long, long we sat thus, brothers, speaking of Felicity; discoursing earnestly Of Earth and Heaven; and of who adhere To God's true Vicar and our Holy Church: Beatitude and all the ceaseless bliss, Celestial, of eternal Paradise, As everlasting as the souls that have Built a strong tower for the only Faith. And I recall now how, in exhortation, Filled with the fervor of my cause I cried:-- "Walk not on ways that lead but to despair, The easy ways of Satan! Rather thorns For naked feet that will not falter if Retentive of the arm of our true Church, Who comforts weariness with promises Still urging onward; and refreshes hearts With whisperings in the tuneless ear of Care."-- And oft, big-eyed with innocence, she asked, "Do some digress?"--And I, "Yea, many! yea! And there's necessity! we should annul, Pluck forth the canker that contaminates, Corrodes the milk-white beauty of our Rose.-- God's persecution! they confront our Faith With brows of stigmatizing error writ In Hell's red handwriting. Shall such persist? No!--Heaven demands an end to all this shame!"-- Her pledge she gave me then: "When Queen, for Spain The Inquisition! Let the Saints record! I promise thee, my father, thou shalt be A mattock of deracination to Extirpate heresy." Well, well; time goes: The world moves onward, and I still am--oh, Frere Torquemada, a Dominican!...