ORTY MARTYRS O F A DRAMATIC SKETCH BY J. O’DONOGHUE, 65 Franklin Street, cor. Broadway. LONDON: BURNS, OATES & CO., 17 PORTMAN STREET, W. THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE % Sramatii; Shefrh. BY WILLIAM H. ANDERDON, D. D. BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRARY CHESTNUT HILL, MASS, NSW YORK: SOLD FOR THE AUTHOR BY JOHN J. O’DONOGHUE, 363 Broadway, & 65 W Franklin Stbeet. LONDON : BURNS, OATES & CO., 17 PORTMAN STREET tf 1869. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Centurion, a Pagan. Plancus, an inferior officer, afterwards the fortieth Martyr Rufus, Casca, Varro, Fulvius, Pagan Roman Soldiers. Forty Christian Soldiers, l «/ the Twelfth or “Thun- } denng Legion. Demas, one of the Forty, afterwards an Apostate. Melithon, the youngest of the Forty. Father of Melithon. Place Sebaste, in Armenia. Time the night and morning of March 9-10, A. D. 318. Some slight dramatic licence has been taken with the recorded circumstances of the Martyrdom. For these, the reader is referred to Butler’s Lives of the Saints , March 10, and St. Basil, Horn. xx. TS \o2> c [ f&7 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Scene : The edge oe a frozen lake, bordered by a path, UP AND DOWN WHICH A SENTINEL IS PACING. Rufus, the Sentinel. Well, I’ve known sharpish winters ; northward march’d Against the Dacians , mounted guard, until Mine ears froze to the helmet, and I nearly Lost my two feet : — hut ice-wind such as this Not oft rude Boreas blesses man withal. Boo-hoo ! — the marrow in my bones is ice ! And, as the blast from yonder Caucasus Sweeps o’er the lake, I’d sooner face a sheaf Of Parthian arrows, volley’d all at once ! But for the bear-skin furs, which our good Plancus Made the slow commissariat provide, (Aye, he ’$ the lad to keep his soldiers warm !) The Emperor had lost some scores of sentries, And Pluto, in like measure, gain’d — {louder) Who goes ! {Enter Casca and Varro.) Casoa. A friend or two. Rufus. The pass? 20414 4 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Casoa. Genius of Eome. Rufus. Genius of Aquilo would fit to-night ! Ha, Y arro, Casca ? come to share the watch ? Some cheering talk, now, under breath, keeps life In lungs and limbs that perish else with cold. Casoa. Truly, my soul hath sunk into my buskins — Yaero. Yet cannot keep the toes from freezing: — booh ! Casoa. Harkye , this night we have a volunteer He that comes next on watch is Plancus’ self. Rufus. Plancus ? Casca. His own mere fancy leads him to it. He wants to see how long those obstinate men, Sebaste’s Christian troopers, (laughs) will hold out. Rufus. Eh ? this is Greek to me. Vareo. Thou hast not heard? True , thou wert absent upon leave till now Casoa. Hark, then : — there is a knot of forty soldiers, Here in our winter-quarters, as thou know’st, Enslaved to the Christians’ vile belief, And, like the rest of all that hang-dog set, Morose, unsocial — Rufus. Aye, in one word, Christians. I’ve known it, all along. Well, as for darkness, They’ve had a taste of what they love so much. Before my furlough, ’twas a common thing To treat them to the black hole, and half starve ’em On bread as black and noisome as the hole , With other points of military treatment For such as wo’nt burn incense : — THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 5 Vareo. Reason good. Casca. Of course ! Varro. Who takes the soldier’s oath of service Binds himself over, body, soul and thought, And conscience, too — (that ’s their new-fangled word) — Conscience — ( laughs ) to Caesar’s will : — Rtjfus. And who gainsays, And makes his will out stronger than the Caesar’s, Or better — why, he ’s — what’s the word ? Casca. A rebel. Rufus. Rebel; that ’s it — an ugly-sounding word. Varro. And so is Christian , and a senseless one. What means it, after all ? Expound. Casca. That ’s easy The Christians, you must know, came first from Egypt, Led by one Moses, or Sesostris then, Taking advantage when the tide was out, They cross’d to Joppa, took Jerusalem, And gave some trouble to the god Vespasian — Rufus. Slaves to stand up against an Emperor ! Casca. He soon dislodg’d and brought them chain’d to Rome, Made them pile up his amphitheatre, Then, for their wages, gave them to the lions. Rufus. He should have sent ’em hither, to mount guard — Varro. Or hurl at one another blocks of ice! The only shows this frost-bound clime affords. Casca. Hay, they wo’nt fight, as gladiators do — They let themselves be slaughter’d, like dumb sheep : 6 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Fancying, when so they die, some Genius comes Potent and winged, like a Victory, And bears them off, to dwell beyond the stars ; All which they forfeit, (so their priests proclaim,) By one small pinch of incense to the gods — Varko, {impatiently)— With such-like follies of be- lief' and practice, Tedious to mention, till we’re round the fire. Rufus. I would we were ! — how slow the watch-time creeps! Stiff — stiff and cramp’d, as my great-grandfather ! Oasoa. Cheerly, boy ! let ’s a song : — (Sings, with chattering teeth. The others join?) O Rome, the great ! Genius of mighty Rome ! Thy glory to uphold, ’Mid this Cimmerian cold, Thy faithful soldiers bivouack far from home ! Vaeko. Not so much comfort in it, after all; ’Tis hard to warm oneself with bare ideas. Rufus. But tell me, Casca , you began to say Somewhat of Plancus, and these Christian fools. Casca. Ho, I forgot he ’ll march them here anon For their last trial, nay, their certain death : — If harden’d they remain, bak’d will they be ! (laughs.) Rufus. What mean you? Casca, (earnestly) Think, old comrade; if to pace Along the frozen margin of this mere, Swept by a scythe-wind, be so sore a thing, What were it, then, unbearskinn’d, and exposed THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 7 With naked feet, clad hut in one thin tunic, To stand, and shudder through the night, nor stir For some brief space the legion’s wav’ring line Made it a doubtful issue ! — ( Enter Centurion, with Plancus, heading a double file of soldiers , marching slowly to military music. The martyrs walk between them , bare-headed , and lightly clad ; their hands folded in prayer. The martyrs are placed on the lake the other soldiers file off to the margin .) Centurion Halt! form phalanx-wise. Soldiers of I ’m no great speechifier , that you know — But this I ’ve got to say When the fight ’s on, True men ye he , stand, like so much stone wall , For charging, no men better : — why, in camp, Mutiny thus ? I want to save you : — Come ! First Martyr. Centurion, when the soldier gets an Varro. Hush — they come. the Twelfth, order 8 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. From the chief general, must he not obey ? Centurion. Aye, that ’s the case, old comrade ! just the case I call that sense the thing lies in a nutshell— Could ’nt be better put — so then, to-morrow Sees you at sacrifice early parade, mind ! — ’Tention ! right shoulders for’ard! wheel — quick march ! First Martyr. We move no step that nears us to the idol. Our Emperor is the Holy One : He bids His faithful soldiers serve Him first, then man. Plancus. You lose your time, Centurion. Some Erinnys, Some darkling demon, spreads his vampire wings Over their minds , drives them, of sense bereft, Onward and unresisting, to their doom. First Martyr, (to Plancus.) How was it, when the Emperor Mark Aurelius Led the same Twelfth, the Csesar’s Christian legion, Across the Danube, ’gainst the Quadi there ? Plancus. Hay, the Twelfth legion earn’d a crown that day ! By whatsoever magic they brought down The blest abundant rain, that sav’d our thousands From deadly thirst then drove, as in live rage, Right in the foe’s face, with blue sheeted flame, While o’er him, peal on peal, fierce thunder growl’d. Yarro. Each drop was worth a pearl, as in their helmets THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 9 And upturn’d shields — so runs the chronicle— Our eager soldiers caught that shower of life, Drank as they charg’d, and freshly fought, and won ! Casca. Hence are ye nam’d the Thunderers , utter now An omen on the lucky side — on Caesar’s , And save yourselves ! First Martyr. Here stand we, to endure. Centurion. In Caesar’s name ! Ye heard the just decree Of the most clement Emperor Licinius ’Gainst those who worship not as Rome commands. Yet once more we proclaim the better choice : — {Reads from a paper.) “ Whoso repenteth him of this rebellion , “ And wills to sacrifice , for him prepare “ Warm garments , fire , a cheering goblet spic'd • — “ Brief whatsoe'er restores the vital warmth , “ And gives him bach to duty and enjoyment .” Yarro. See you the comfortable hearth ? Comes not A savory steam athwart the starving sense? Be wise . keep life ’tis worth it, after all. Demas { shivering , aside). And good terms, too , could one but just compound ! Is there no middle course ? nay, let me think. First Martyr. Comrades, we thank you : — friend- ship true and warm Holds brave men’s hearts in union, when together They have endur’d campaigning, fac’d the storm Of battle, or the stress of wintry weather ; 10 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. And you and I, Centurion, with the rest Of these, have often thrown a cheerful breast On le veil’d lances of the foes of Rome, Holding our lives cheap, at their word from home. Centurion. Shoulder to shoulder , never flinoh’d nor turn’d ! I grow half womanish, the while thou speakest. Demas {aside). Could n’t he let us off, then, under cover Of this dark night ? — or one, — -just only one ? First Martyr {to Centurion). Such ancient good-will prompts you now to urge What we accept not : — for the motive, thanks. For you, with many more, we offer up Our pain, thrice willing. Said I well, my brothers ? All the Forty, except Demas. You speak our steadfast purpose: Deo gratias. Demas {aside). Aye, well: — I’ll brave it out, e’en with the rest. A soldier, blenching from a cold night-watch ? Hay, rouse thy courage, Demas — play the man Centurion. ’Tis this keen wind assaults my clouded eye; ( Covers Ms face.) Deem it no more. {Pause.) Well: each one to his taste. Christians, I know, will keep a word once pledg’d. We leave you on parole, you will not stir From off this ice ; ’twere nothing short of murder THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 11 To keep a guard here : — one will stay, for help Should any come back to a sounder mind. Plancus, your turn is first. Now, men — ’tention ! Eight shoulders for’ard ! March ! aDd so to camp. ( Exeunt all tint the Forty and Plancus. He 'paces up and down , watching them.) First Martyr. Dear brothers, lest our souls’ dark prowling foe Besiege the frail sense, and his entrance win To the will’s fortress, guard its gates with prayer ! Demas ( aside , with chattering teeth). Indeed, yon fire is blazing cheerfully ! Ah, the wind brings a sniff of that spic’d wine — How warm it must be ! Ann the rest. Patience grant, and strength : With final perseverence seal our brows ! Duet and Chorus. Oh Sinai’s rock, in Carmel grove, Thro’ forty days, both eve and morn, Thy Saints, by heavenly grace upborne, Endur’d their fast, in prayer and love Thro’ forty days, in mortal state, Fasting, the tempter Thou didst wait. ( Chorus repeats the two last lines.) Plancus (aside). Calm, this — to suffer with unfalter- ing song ! It must be magic as they say that witches, However deep you prick them, never bleed. 12 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Demas {aside). Could I so shame my legion, and my standard As craven to confess, or cry, Release ? Duet and Chorus. By that fair number, forty, still Thy people’s Lenten fast is spann’d : Here in close rank Thy forty stand And keep their vigil, by Thy will Quaternions ten, we guard this ground : May forty martyrs, Lord ! be crown’d. {Chorus repeats the two last lines.) Planous. Bah ! on mine honor, ’tis a sorry thing To see brave soldiers turn to icicles Before one’s very eyes ! — {pauses.) Aye, there they stand Squar’d, rank and file ; as if the trumpet’s note Should ring out to the legion, Front, and Charge ! Yet all disarm’d — no enemy to face But this unbearable north-wind ! Demas {aside). All former Trials I’ve borne , but this transcendeth all ! A glorious thing to wear the martyr’s crown, But, oh ! some lighter cross to lead thereto ! First Martyr. Sing we such hymn as those three sainted youths Who walk’d in Babel, ’mid the furnace flame Made seven times fiercer by a king’s command. THE FORTY MARTYRS OP SEBASTE. 18 Second Martyr. Benedicite omnia opera Domini Domino : All, except Demas. Laudato et superexaltate eum in scecula. Third Martyr. Ice, with keen-darting frost, and shrill north-wind That into deathly hillocks piles the snow, Not less than javelins of resistless fire Are servitors, and readiest instruments Swiftly to leap forth at His lightest word Whose fiat is their being ! Fourth Martyr. Lord most high, This quivering human flesh, impress’d by pain, Didst Thou assume , and suffering, henceforth, By Thy divine pangs hath been sanctified Till time, and earth, and trial, be no more ! One of the Martyrs falls and dies.) Plancus. Ha ! there goes one — The first who drops ! that’s brave Callistratus ; A dauntless soldier, now, who won his wreath Five years ago, campaigning in Pannonia : — So from the Forty passes Number One. Demas (aside). I ne’er can stand it ! keener every moment The ice-wind pierces, like a two-edg’d sword ! (A second falls and dies.) Plancus ( leaning on his spear). A second : — and no marvel. Cold like this Would numb the sense of an Armenian bear ! It makes me drowsy here, wrapp’d in his fur : 14 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Heb ! mortal flesh can’t stand a night so bitter Enter Fulvius. Planous. In good time, the relief. Watch thou, my friend , For my sleep-weighted lids would need a pulley To keep them up : — I’ll rest here by the fire. {SinTcs to sleep at the opposite side of the stage.) Fulvius paces up and down , watching. A third Martyr falls and dies. Fulvius. Aye, fast they go: — the sooner out of pain. Fifth Martyr. Oh, by the cold of Bethlem’s starry night, That keen birth-hour, Thy weak defenceless limbs Which smote — one day to quiver on the Cross Alike with cold and agony — nerve us now ! Demas {aside). Cold, cold intensely cold! — how long ? — how long ? (A fourth falls and dies.) A Martyr. Heap fire upon our enemies’ heads, to melt Their hardness, and dissolve them into love ! For each life here, grant us, dear Lord, a soul Of the benighted whom we left in camp. {A fifth falls and dies.) Duet and Chorus, i. One in eight is call’d to rest, One in eight ascends on high I THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 15 Five new martyrs ’mid the blest, Cloth’d with immortality All, except Demas. Soon the perfect sum complete ! Gather all around Thy throne • Forty souls in triumph greet, Thou, their rich Reward alone ! {From this time , the martyrs fall in succession , at inter- vals, according to the number represented on the stage.) ii. Strait the ways that lead above ; Death, or life, the end may gain — As Thou callest, so Thy love Conquers every force of pain ! Chorus, as before. Soon the perfect, etc. HI. Martyrs all to Thee aspire, Now by scourge, by rack, or sword : These through blood, as those by fire, Gaining, each in turn, their Lord! Chorus, as before. Soon the perfect, etc. IV Willing victims, here we stand ; Brief the pains of martyrdom — 16 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Vigil brief to veteran band. Till Thy clarion sound us home ! Chorus, as before. Soon the perfect, etc. P lances, (starting up) Fade not, bright vision ! stay, ye glorious forms ! Declare — why forty crowns save one ? Fulvius. Ho, Plancus! (shaTces him.) Awake, man ! — wake ! What, muttering thy dreams ? Plancus. As I stand here, I saw them ! Fulvius. Saw ? nay — whom ? Saw thro’ your eyelids, then ! (laughs.) Plancus. Ho j est — no j est— Fulvius. You’re not yet half awake! (shalces him.) Plancus. The sense lay bound In slumber, but the soul gaz’d forth, and saw Fulvius. Tell us this dream, now ? Plancus. When I laid me down, Wrapp’d in my cloak, still floated thro’ my brain That griesly sight . still mark’d I, how one fell And next his neighbour, as thou sawest too, Perishing out of life , yet conquerors all O’er sense and pain, as victims for their faith. A Martyr. O ye angels of the Lord, bless ye the Lord The Rest. O ye heavens, bless ye the Lord ! Plancus. Then the black ice, and those men’s forty shapes, THE FOKTY MAKTYKS OF SEBASTE. 17 Some standing yet, and prostrate some, receiv’d A sudden splendour from above, that lit With warmest, cheeriest radiance, the grim scene, As when in some blithe morning of the May The sun comes out, chasing chill mists away Fulvius, {laughs.) That is, you nodded off, and dream’d, perchance, You lay in sunshine, by the banks of Tiber, In one of those warm nooks, where you and I A lightsome stave of Horace often troll’d. A Maktyk. O ye sun and moon, bless ye the Lord : The Rest. O ye stars of heaven, bless ye the Lord ! Plan cos. Hay, hear me. Heralded by those pure rays, Celestial forms descended, on whose brows Such crowns as pal’d th’ imperial sapphire shone And in their hands outreach’d, the blest immortals (Genii, or how to name them, would I knew!) Brought diadems as glorious as their own, And bent o’er each one fallen on the ice To crown the frost-bound corse with starry splendour ; At whose first touch the features pain-deformed, Relaxing into slumb’rous peace, show’d fair As theirs who in Elysium sleep, nor dream. A Mabtye. 0 ye fire and heat, bless ye the Lord : The Rest. 0 ye cold and heat, bless ye the Lord! Demas ( aside , with great agony). I cannot bear it — I must needs give in ! Fulvibs. You dreamt, at least ! and, as philosophers Prate of the rule of contraries, your fancy 18 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Took a flight backward into summers past, Chang’d to blood heat this biting cold, yet borrow’d From yon keen starlight the said sparkling crowns, A Martyr. O ye dews and hoar-frost, bless ye the Lord The Rest. O ye frost and cold, bless ye the Lord ! Demas {aside). ISTo use to think — I must plunge blindly on ! Pl arcus. Why, then, if all were fancy, did I note One crown yet lack’d to fill the perfect sum ? For o’er the heads of those who still erect Suffer’d and prayed, the starry diadems Were held suspended, till their trial o’er, Then lowered softly as they fell in death : — But one went crownless. Fulvius. One? Plancus. Ro crown for him Was brought : — why thus ? Fulvius. Ray ; why does thistledown Grow on the stalk in always an odd number ? A Martyr. 0 ye ice and snow, bless ye the Lord The Rest. O ye nights and days, bless ye the Lord ! Fulvius. It needs Pythagoras, or some village crone To give a reason. One, belike, thought twice Of his rebellion , whom the pain convinc’d That Ciesar, after all, were best obey’d. {Demas cries out inarticulately ) Plancus. Hearken what noise is that ? Demas. What ho ! — spic’d wine ! THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 19 Quicii — or ye come too late ! A bear-skin cloak ! Support me off, here ! — lead me to the fire ! Planous. Fulvius, attend him. (Fulvius supports Demas off the ice , and is leading him away.) First Martyr. Brother! Oh, my brother ! Demas. Speak not to me — what man can bear, I’ve borne This goes beyond all power of man’s endurance. First Martyr. Breathe but one prayer ! the strength of Grace awaits thee — Second Martyr. Grace, brother, and the crown! Oh, pause — return ! Third Martyr. All canst thou do, thro’ Him whose might is all ! Demas. Quick— to the fire ! I perish while ye speak. (Exit, leaning on Fulvius.) Fourth Martyr. Alas, and shall our prayers united fail? \Plancus shows signs of agitation, which increase every moment.) First Martyr. IST ay, Lord of power and love ! Prayer can unfix (Thy holy word proclaims it) the strong roots Of earth’s obdurate mountains — Second Martyr. And no less Can turn the wayward currents of man’s will ! Third Martyr. The wolf becomes a lamb: the heathen owns Thee, And each new marvel glorifies Thy Name. 20 THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. First Martyr. Thou, to whose arm is nought im- possible, Hear us, and grant ! Fourth Martyr. So he we forty still ! Plancus coming forward). Yes, Grace prevails a gentle power draws me — I join myself to you, for life and death. (. Throws off his cloaJc and upper garment.) Fulvius {rushing in). Heh, man alive ! art mad ? What freak is this ? Lose all promotion — -join the Nazarene ? Plancus. Here I confess the Crucified , and fain Would hang, for love of Him, upon the Cross! Baptised would I be, into His death — Pray for me, brothers, that I persevere First Martyr. 0 Love triumphant ! Second Martyr. Mercy’s miracle ! Fulyius. Ho use to argue : — when a man once joins This Christian troop, he takes leave of his wits ! Planous. I choose my portion here, with calmest choice. Fulyius. Well, if you must, Pve no choice, that you know : — On with ye to the ice, in Ctesar’s name ! {Pushes him on with the staff of his spear.) Third Martyr. Into Thy vineyard, at the last brief hour, Thou call’st one servant more ! Fourth Martyr. Thy warrior ranks Host freshly fill, nor sufferest empty space To mock Thee in Thy new creation’s sphere. THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 21 Duet and Chorus. Willing victims, here we stand Brief the pains of martyrdom — Yigil brief to vet’ran band, Till Thy clarion sound us home. Chorus, with Plancus. Now the full sum stands complete Waft us quickly to Thy throne ! Forty souls in triumph greet — Thou, their rich Reward alone. Fui.vius, walking up and down , musing. Well , the old Gorgon’s glance, so feign our poets, Could smite each rash beholder into stone But face so horrible I ne’er have seen As yonder Demas 1 , when he near’d the fire — Groan’d hideous, and fell dead, ere his cramp’d hand Could clutch the goblet, or those blue lips drink ! Pah so he’s gone — I’d rather brave it here, And chance the great hereafter — if it be — Pauses , then resolutely.') Hold, Fulvius, man , The Caesar’s creed for thee ! Time’s nearly up soon my relief is here. For these poor fellows — they ’re reliev’d already ; Gone to some camp unseen — I hope, good quarters! Plancus and Melithon seem journeying too, And then the play’s play’d out • I’m olf to Som'iius. {Sinks to sleep.) ( All the Martyrs have died , except Plancus and Melithon.) THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. The sun rises. Plancus. O rising orb not half so fair thy beams, Temp’ring these death chills with a sudden glory, As the light new-born in my soul, that glows With cheer, with comfort, from the Paraclete 1 High o’er thy lamp, from out th’ empyrean home Float splendors thro’ the golden gates unharr’d ! What nearer shines ? — a crown! — my destin’d crown! Ah, comes the great reward indeed so nigh ? So brief a pang — can it be recompens’d With bliss eternal? ( pauses , then totters .) Yes : — a lightsome sense Buoys me to yon blest mansions — tho’ the limbs Frost-bound, must falter to their kindred earth, My soul, baptis’d by heaven-wing’d desire, Goes upward — upward ! {totters.) Lord, my God how fair — ■ Divinely fair, Thy Wounds — Thyself! I come! ( falls and dies.) Melithon, the youngest Martyr , remains alone. Song, Melithon. Youngest of this martyr band, Last upon the journey home, Waiting, hoping, let me stand Till my joyful moment come. THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. 23 Comrades blest! for Melitbon Intercede, amid your joy From your height, securely won, Aid, Oh, aid, a feebler boy ! Where ye dwell, no age nor blight Enters , nought can fade or fall : In one sabbath noon of light Godlike youth entrances all. Comrades blest ! for Melithon Intercede, amid your joy, From your height, securely won, Aid, Oh aid, a feebler boy I {His father rushes in .) Father. Where is my child, my Melithon? — living still? Aye, dear one, thy young vigor has put back Death’s icy hand, and thou not yet secure ! Still thy crown hovers o’er thee , while the rest Yon golden threshold garlanded have trode, And past into the courts of deathless bliss. Melithoh {totters). A moment, and His grace doth perfect all In me, as in those blest — I follow, swiftly Father {supporting him). 0 Melithon! my first- born, my one child ; — Prop of these aged steps thou woUldst have been, THE FORTY MARTYRS OF SEBASTE. Had nature’s voice obtain’d : — but G-race hath won ! Melithon (feebly). He triumphs in His youngest, and His least. Father. Child of my prayers, and long since dedi- cate To His all-conquering cross who died thereon — ■ Hot for one moment — no — such craven impulse My heart disowneth — would I pluck thee back From the near verge of bliss — Glo forth, my son ; Go, thou young soldier, with thy comrades crown’d ! Last, as the latest-born , so forty Saints In one strong phalanx round the Throne, shall win Grace for th’ afflicted Church — for me, thy father ! Helithoh (■ pointing upward). Our Father there shall comfort thee ! I pass — My next word pleads for thee, in heaven — see — see ! The fortieth crown descends . triumph and bliss! 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