But in this sacred and calm retreat,
We are all well and safely shielded
From winds that blow, and waves that beat,
From the cold, and rain, and blighting heat,
To which the strongest hearts have yielded. 
Here we stand as the Virgins Seven,
For our celestial bridegroom yearning;
Our hearts are lamps forever burning,
With a steady and unwavering flame,
Pointing upward, forever the same,
Steadily upward toward the Heaven!

The moon is hidden behind a cloud;
A sudden darkness fills the room,
And thy deep eyes, amid the gloom,
Shine like jewels in a shroud. 
On the leaves is a sound of falling rain;
A bird, awakened in its nest,
Gives a faint twitter of unrest,
Then smoothes its plumes and sleeps again.

No other sounds than these I hear;
The hour of midnight must be near. 
Thou art o’erspent with the day’s fatigue
Of riding many a dusty league;
Sink, then, gently to thy slumber;
Me so many cares encumber,
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away: 
I will go down to the chapel and pray.

* * * * *

V.

A COVERED BRIDGE AT LUCERNE.

* * * * *

Prince Henry.  God’s blessing on the architects who build
The bridges o’er swift rivers and abysses
Before impassable to human feet,
No less than on the builders of cathedrals,
Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across
The dark and terrible abyss of Death. 
Well has the name of Pontifex been given
Unto the Church’s head, as the chief builder
And architect of the invisible bridge
That leads from earth to heaven.

Elsie How dark it grows!  What are these paintings on the walls around us?

  Prince Henry The Dance Macaber!

  Elsie What?

Prince Henry The Dance of Death! 
All that go to and fro must look upon it,
Mindful of what they shall be, while beneath,
Among the wooden piles, the turbulent river
Rushes, impetuous as the river of life,
With dimpling eddies, ever green and bright,
Save where the shadow of this bridge falls on it.

  Elsie. O, yes!  I see it now!

Prince Henry The grim musician Leads all men through the mazes of that dance, To different sounds in different measures moving; Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum, To tempt or terrify.

  Elsie What is this picture?

Prince Henry It is a young man singing to a nun, Who kneels at her devotions, but in kneeling Turns round to look at him, and Death, meanwhile, Is putting out the candles on the altar!

Elsie Ah, what a pity ’t is that she should listen to such songs, when in her orisons She might have heard in heaven the angels singing!