The scattered wrappings of the burial night,
Pale gleams amidst the gloom. Not waiting, then,
Deeming our treasure taken wickedly

I sped; and came to Peter, and to John,

And cried: "Our Lord is stolen from His grave,
And none to tell where He is borne away!"
Thereat, they ran together, came, and saw;
And entered in; and found the linen cloths
Scattered; the rock-bed empty; and, amazed,
Back to their house they went. But I drew nigh
A second time, alone; heart-broken now,
The bright day seeming blackest night to me,
The small birds mockers, and the City's noise-
Waking within the walls-hateful and vain.
Why should Earth wake, the Son of Man asleep?
Or that great guilty City rise and live,

With this dear Lord, dead, in her stony skirts?
Fled, too, my last fond hope, to lay Him fair,
And kiss His wounded feet, and wash the blood
From the pierced palms, and comb His tangled hair
To comeliness, and leave Him-like a King—
To His forgetful angels. Weeping hard

With these thoughts, like to snake-fangs, stinging me,
My left hand on the stone I laid, and shut
The eager sunshine off with my right hand,
Kneeling, and looking in the sepulcher.

It was not dark within! I deemed at first
A lamp burned there, such radiance mild I saw
Lighting the hewn walls, and the linen bands;
And, in one corner, folded by itself,

The face-cloth. Coming closer, I espied

Two men who sate there

very watchfully.

One at the head, the other at the foot

Of that stone table where my Lord had lain.

Oh! I say "men"— I should have known no men
Had eyes like theirs, shapes so majestical,
Tongues tuned to such a music as the tone

Wherewith they questioned me: "Why weepest thou?" "Ah, Sirs!" I said, "my Lord is ta'en away,

Nor wot we whither!" and thereat my tears

Blotted all seeing. So, I turned to wipe
The hot drops off; and, look! Another one
Standing behind me, and my foolish eyes

Hard gazing on Him, and not knowing Him!
Indeed, I deemed this was the Gardener
Keeping the trees and tomb, so was He flesh;
So living, natural, and made like man,
Albeit, if I had marked if any ray
Of watchful hope had helped me

such a look,

Such Presence, beautiful and pure; such light
Of loveliest compassion in His face,

Had told my beating heart and blinded eyes

WHO this must be. But I my brow i' the dust
Heard Him say softly: "Wherefore weepest thou?
Whom seekest thou?" A little marveled I—
Still at his feet, too sorrowful to rise,-

He should ask this, the void grave gaping near,
And He its watchman; yet His accents glad.
"Sir," said I, "if 't is thou hast borne Him hence,
Tell me where thou hast laid Him. Then will I
Bear Him away!"

Ah, friend, such answer came, that my sadness turned
Gladness, as suddenly as gray is gold

When the sun springs in glory! such a word
As made my mourning laugh itself to naught,
Like a cloud melting to the blue! Such word
As, with more music than Earth ever heard,
Set my swift-dancing veins full well aware
Why so the Day dawned, and the City stirred,
And the vast idle world went busy on,
And the birds caroled, and, in palm-tree tops,
The wise doves cooed of love! Oh, a dear word
Spoke first to me, and, after me, to all,
That all may always know He is the Lord,
And Death is dead, and new times come for men;
And Heaven's ways justified, and Christ alive,
Whom we saw die, nailed on the cruel Cross!
For, while I lay there, sobbing at His feet,

The word He spake My Lord! my King! my Christ!

Was my name:

"MARY!"

No language had I then,

No language have I now! only I turned

My quick glance upward; saw Him; knew Him! sprang,
Crying: "Rabboni! Lord! my Lord! dear Lord!"

- Edwin Arnold.

RICHELIEU

In this scene, four characters are introduced: Richelieu, the minister of France and cardinal of the church of Rome; Louis, the king; Baradas, the chief conspirator; Julie, Richelieu's ward.

The king and Baradas have planned the assassination of Richelieu. The king has also designed to marry Julie; but in order to prevent this, Richelieu has given her in marriage to Adrien de Mauprat, whom Baradas has induced to become the tool in the assassination of Richelieu.

As De Mauprat enters Richelieu's room to commit the murder, Richelieu, having anticipated him, thwarts him in his purpose, and then explains to him the treachery of Baradas; whereupon De Mauprat becomes concerned for Richelieu's safety, and meeting the conspirators after leaving the house, announces to them that Richelieu is dead.

On the following day, the conspirators, together with De Mauprat, convene at the king's palace. While here, Baradas, who has already imprisoned Huguet, a spy, conspires against De Mauprat, and finally, by gaining the consent of the king, succeeds in having him also imprisoned in the Bastile.

And now as the king and the conspirators are rejoicing over the supposed death of Richelieu, and are discussing plans as to the best disposition of public offices, Richelieu enters and says:

Rich. [fiercely.] Room, my lords, room. The minister of France can need no intercession with the King. Louis. What means this false report of death, Lord Cardinal? Rich. Are you, then, angered, Sire, that I live still?

Louis. No; but such artifice

Rich. Not mine; look elsewhere, Louis!

My castle swarmed with the assassins.

Bar. [advancing.] We have punished them already. Huguet

now

In the Bastile. Oh! my lord, we were prompt

My liege! What page, man, in the last court grammar,
Made you a plural? Count, you have seized the hireling;
Sire, shall I name the master?

Louis.

Tush, my lord,

The old contrivance; ever does your wit

Invent assassins, that ambition may

Slay rivals

Rich. Rivals, Sire, in what?

Service to France? I have none. Lives the man

Whom Europe deems rival to

Armand Richelieu?

Louis. What, so haughty!

Remember, he who made, can unmake.

Never!

Rich.
Never! Your anger can recall your trust,
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands,
Rifle my coffers but my name, my deeds
Are loyal in a land beyond your scepter.
Pass sentence on me, if you will; from Kings
Lo! I appeal to time!

Louis [motions to BARADAS and turns haughtily to the Cardinal]. Enough!

Your Eminence must excuse a longer audience.

To your own palace: for our conference, this
Nor place, nor season.

Rich. Good, my liege, for Justice

All place a temple, and all season summer!
Do you deny me justice? Saints of heaven!
He turns from me! Do you deny me justice?
For fifteen years, while in these hands dwelt Empire,
The humblest craftsman, the obscurest vassal,
The very leper shrinking from the sun,

Though loathed by Charity, might ask for justice!
Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien
Of some I see around you. Counts and Princes

Kneeling for favors; but erect and loud,

As men who ask man's rights! My liege, my Louis,
Do you refuse me justice. audience even —

In the pale presence of the baffled Murder?

Louis. Lord Cardinal, one by one you have severed from me

The bonds of human love; all near and dear
Marked out for vengeance exile or the scaffold.

You find me now amidst my trustiest friends,

My closest kindred. You would tear them from me;
They murder you, forsooth, since me they love.

Enough of plots and treasons for one reign.

Home! home! and sleep away these phantoms.

Rich.

Sire!

I patience, Heaven! Sweet Heaven! Sire, from the foot
Of that Great Throne, these hands have raised aloft
On an Olympus, looking down on mortals
And worshiped by their awe-before the foot
Of that high throne, spurn you the gray-haired man
Who gave you empire- and now sues for safety?
Louis. No; when we see your Eminence in truth
At the foot of the throne, we 'll listen to you.

[Exit King and train.]

Rich. Goddess of bright dreams,

My country shalt thou lose me now, when most
Thou need'st thy worshiper? My native land!
Let me but ward this dagger from thy heart,

And die but on thy bosom.

[Enter JULIE.]

Julie. Heaven! I thank thee!

It cannot be, or this all-powerful man

Would not stand idly thus.

Rich. Julie de Maupart, what dost thou here?

Home!

Julie. Home!is Adrien there? You're dumb, yet strive For words; I see them trembling on your lips, But choked by pity. It was truth—all truth! Seized the Bastile and in your presence, too! Cardinal, where is Adrien? Think! he saved

Your life; your name is infamy, if wrong
Should come to his!

Rich. Be soothed, child.

Julie. Child no more!

I love, and I am woman! Hope and suffer:

Love, suffering, hope what else doth make the strength
And majesty of woman?