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What though fogs may stream from draining waters?
We will till the clays to mellow loam ; Wake the graveyard of our fathers' spirits ;
Clothe its crumbling mounds with blade and bloom.
Old decays but foster new creations ;
Bones and ashes feed the golden corn ; Fresh elixirs wander every moment, Down the veins through which the live past feeds
its child, the live unborn.
SCENE I. A.D. 1220. The Doorway of a closed Chapel in the Wartburg. ELIZABETH
sitting on the Steps. Eliz. Baby Jesus, who dost lie
Far above that stormy sky,
Happy birds ! whom Jesus leaves
All without is mean and small,
Jesus, let me enter in,
Let me kiss Thy wounded feet,
At Thy door-step low I bend,
Jesu, Lord, my heart will break,
Eliz. Go! you despise me like the rest.
Despise you ? What’s here? King Andrew's child ? St. John's sworn
Who dares despise you ? Out upon these Saxons !
Rode by her side, and far behind us stretched
- Hush now, I've heard all, nurse, A thousand times. Isen.
Oh, how their hungry mouths Did water at the booty! Such a prize, Since the three Kings came wandering into Cöln, They ne'er saw, nor their fathers ;-well they knew it ! Oh, how they fawned on us! “Great Isentrudis !” “ Sweet babe !” The Landgravine did thank her saints As if you, or your silks, had fallen from heaven; And now she wears your furs, and calls us gipsies. Come tell your nurse your griefs; we'll weep together, Strangers in this strange land ! Eliz.
I am most friendless. The Landgravine and Agnes—you may see them Begrudge the food I eat, and call me friend Of knaves and serving-maids; the burly knights Freeze me with cold blue eyes : no saucy page But points and whispers, “There goes our pet nun ; Would but her saintship leave her gold behind, We'd give herself her furlough.” Save me! save me! All here are ghastly dreams; dead masks of stone, And you and I, and Guta, only live: Your eyes alone have souls. I shall go mad! Oh! that they would but leave me all alone,