Next morning, waking with the day's first beam,
He said within himself, "It was a dream!"
But the straw rustled as he turn'd his head;
There were the cap and bells beside his bed,
Around him rose the bare, discolor'd walls,
Close by the steeds were champing in their stalls,
And in the corner, a revolting shape,
Shivering and chattering, sat the wretched ape.
It was no dream; the world he loved so much
Had turn'd to dust and ashes at his touch!
Days came and went; and now return'd again
To Sicily the old Saturnian reign;
Under the angel's governance benign
The happy island danced with corn and wine,
And deep within the mountain's burning breast
Enceladus, the giant, was at rest.
Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate,
Sullen and silent and disconsolate.
Dress'd in the motley garb that jesters wear,
With looks bewilder'd and a vacant stare,
Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn,
By courtiers mock'd, by pages laughed to scorn,
His only friend the ape, his only food
What others left, he still was unsubdued.
And when the angel met him on his way,
And half in earnest, half in jest, would say
Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel.
The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel -
"Art thou the king?" the passion of his woe
Burst from him in resistless overflow,
And, lifting high his forehead, he would fling
The haughty answer back, "I am, I am the king!"
Almost three years were ended, when there came Ambassadors of great repute and name
From Valmond, emperor of Allemaine,
Unto King Robert, saying that Pope Urbane
By letter summon'd them forthwith to come
On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome.
The angel with great joy received his guests,
And gave them presents of embroidered vests,
And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined,
And rings and jewels of the rarest kind.
Then he departed with them o'er the sea
Into the lovely land of Italy,
Whose loveliness was more resplendent made
By the mere passing of that cavalcade,
With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir
Of jewell'd bridle and of golden spur.
And lo, among the menials, in mock state,
Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait,
His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind,
The solemn ape demurely perch'd behind,
King Robert rode, making huge merriment
In all the country towns through which they went.
The Pope received them with great pomp, and blare
Of banner'd trumpets, in St. Peter's square,
Giving his benediction and embrace,
Fervent, and full of apostolic grace.
While with congratulations and with prayers
He entertain'd the angel unawares,
Robert, the jester, bursting through the crowd,
Into their presence rush'd, and cried aloud,
“I am the king! Look, and behold in me
Robert, your brother, King of Sicily!
This man, who wears my semblance to your eyes,
Is an impostor in a king's disguise.
Do you not know me? Does no voice within
Answer my cry, and say we are akin?"
The Pope, in silence, but with troubled mien,
Gazed at the angel's countenance serene;
The emperor, laughing, said, "It is strange sport
To keep a madman for thy fool at court!"
And the poor baffled jester in disgrace
Was hustled back among the populace.
In solemn state the Holy Week went by,
And Easter Sunday gleam'd upon the sky;
The presence of the angel, with its light,
Before the sun rose, made the city bright,
And with new fervor fill'd the hearts of men,
Who felt that Christ indeed had risen again.
Even the jester, on his bed of straw,
With haggard eyes th' unwonted splendor saw;
He felt within a power unfelt before,
And, kneeling humbly on his chamber floor,
He heard the rushing garments of the Lord
Sweep through the silent air, ascending heavenward.
And now the visit ending, and once more
Valmond returning to the Danube's shore,
Homeward the angel journey'd, and again
The land was made resplendent with his train,
Flashing along the towns of Italy
Unto Salerno, and from there by sea.
And when once more within Palermo's wall,
And seated on the throne in his great hall,
He heard the Angelus from convent towers,
As if the better world conversed with ours,
He beckon'd to King Robert to draw nigher,
And with a gesture bade the rest retire;
And when they were alone the angel said,
"Art thou the king?" Then, bowing down his head,
King Robert cross'd both hands upon his breast
And meekly answer'd him: "Thou knowest best!
My sins as scarlet are; let me go hence,
And in some cloister's school of penitence,
Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven,
Walk barefoot till my guilty soul is shriven!”
The angel smiled, and from his radiant face
A holy light illumined all the place;
And through the open window, loud and clear,
They heard the monks chant in the chapel ncar,
Above the stir and tumult of the street:
"He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree!"
And through the second melody
Rose like the throbbing of a single string:
'I am an angel, and thou art the king!"
King Robert, who was standing near the throne,
Lifted his eyes, and, lo, he was alone!
But all apparell'd as in days of old,
With ermined mantle and with cloth of gold;
And when his courtiers came, they found him there,
Kneeling upon the floor, absorb'd in silent prayer.
Select a text from the Holy Bible or some other good book, as an introduction to a sketch of Robert of Sicily, Tell something about Sicily, and describe the church in which the Vespers are being sung. Relate how Robert listened, and was annoyed at the saying: "He has put down the mighty from their seat." Give an idea of the great stillness after all had retired save Robert. Robert's conduct before darting into darkness. His mad course through the streets. How he resembled a spectre.
Take balance of lesson, and talk the matter over as a class, making each scholar give a portion of the description, in a consecutive way, that all the sayings, following in due order, may form a narrative verbally given.
S AND FAILURE.
honorable, if pursued in an . It is the heart only which tion carried into the work, and The most despised calling may be the honor of its professors: a man of polished manners, and a a shoemaker may put genius and vhile a lawyer may only cobble. is the real test of what a man is. at things a man would accomplish, ity of mind, is to say how strong a only had more strength. It is easy at men might become, if they were from what they are. Give a man the spiritual force of Newton, and
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