ABBOT. "Tis said thou holdest converse with the things Which are forbidden to the search of man; That with the dwellers of the dark abodes, Which walk the valley of the shade of death, MAN. And what are they who do avouch these things? ABBOT. My pious brethren-the scared pea santry Even thy own vassals-who do look on thee With most unquiet eyes. Thy life's in peril. MAN. Take it. ABBOT. I come to save, and not destroy I would not pry into thy secret soul; But if these things be sooth, there still is time For penitence and pity: reconcile thee With the true church, and through the church to heaven. MAN. I hear thee. This is my reply; whate'er I may have been, or am, doth rest between Heaven and myself.—I shall not choose a mortal To be my mediator. Have I sinn'd Against your ordinances? prove and punish! ABBOT. My son! I did not speak of punishment, But penitence and pardon ;-with thyself The choice of such remains-and for the last, Our institutions and our strong belief Have given me power to smooth the path from sin To higher hope and better thoughts; the first MAN. Old man! there is no power in holy men, Nor charm in prayer-nor purifying form Of penitence-nor outward look-nor fast- The innate tortures of that deep despair, Which is remorse without the fear of hell, Would make a hell of heaven-can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit, the quick sense Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge Upon itself; there is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemn'd He deals on his own soul. Аввот. All this is well; For this will pass away, and be succeeded Which all who seek may win, whatever be Their earthly errors, so they be atoned: And the commencement of atonement is The sense of its necessity.-Say on And all our church can teach thee shall be taught; And all we can absolve thee, shall be pardon'd. MAN. When Rome's sixth Emperor was near his last, The victim of a self-inflicted wound, To shun the torments of a public death From senates once his slaves, a certain soldier, "It is too late-is this fidelity?" ABBOT. And what of this? ΜΑΝ. "It is too late!" I answer with the Roman Аввот. It never can be so, To reconcile thyself with thy own soul, And thy own soul with heaven. Hast thou no hope? To make my own the mind of other men, I knew not whither-it might be to fall; But fall, even as the mountain-cataract, Which having leapt from its more dazzling height, Even in the foaming strength of its abyss, (Which casts up misty columns that become Clouds raining from the re-ascended skies,) |