Though the barred windows, barred against the wolf,
Are always open! But the North blew cold;
And, bidden to a spare but cheerful meal,
I sate among the holy brotherhood

At their long board. The fare indeed was such
As is prescribed in days of abstinence,

But might have pleased a nicer taste than mine,
And through the floor came up, an ancient crone
Serving unseen below; while from the roof
(The roof, the floor, the walls of native fir)
A lamp hung flickering, such as loves to fling
Its partial light on apostolic heads,

And sheds a grace on all. Theirs Time as yet
Had changed not. Some were almost in the prime;
Nor was a brow o'ercast. Seen as they sate,
Ranged round their ample hearthstone in an hour
Of rest, they were as gay, as free from guile,
As children; answering, and at once, to all
The gentler impulses, to pleasure, mirth;
Mingling, at intervals, with rational talk
Music; and gathering news from them that came,
As of some other world. But when the storm
Rose, and the snow rolled on in ocean-waves,
When on his face the experienced traveller fell,
Sheltering his lips and nostrils with his hands,
Then all was changed; and sallying with their pack
Into that blank of nature, they became

The Covered Bridge at Lucerne

(Lucerne)

Go

PRINCE HENRY

OD'S blessing on the architects who build
The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses
Before impassable to human feet,

No less than on the builders of cathedrals,
Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across
The dark and terrible abyss of Death.
Well has the name of Pontifex been given
Unto the Church's head, as the chief builder
And architect of the invisible bridge

That leads from earth to heaven.

ELSIE

How dark it grows!

What are these paintings on the walls about us?

PRINCE HENRY

The Dance Macaber!

ELSIE

What?

PRINCE HENRY

The Dance of Death!

All that go to and fro must look upon it,

Mindful of what they shall be, while beneath,

Among the wooden piles, the turbulent river
Rushes, impetuous as the river of life,

With dimpling eddies, ever green and bright,
Save where the shadow of this bridge falls on it.

O, yes! I see it now!

ELSIE

PRINCE HENRY

The grim musician

Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.

ELSIE

What is this picture?

PRINCE HENRY

It is a young man singing to a nun,

Who kneels at her devotions, but in kneeling Turns round to look at him; and Death, meanwhile,

Is putting out the candles on the altar!

ELSIE

Ah, what a pity 'tis that she should listen

Unto such songs, when in her orisons

She might have heard in heaven the angels singing!

PRINCE HENRY

Here he has stolen a jester's cap and bells,
And dances with the Queen.

ELSIE

A foolish jest!

PRINCE HENRY

And here the heart of the new-wedded wife,
Coming from church with her beloved lord,
He startles with the rattle of his drum.

ELSIE

Ah, that is sad! And yet perhaps 'tis best
That she should die, with all the sunshine on her,
And all the benedictions of the morning,

Before this affluence of golden light

Shall fade into a cold and clouded gray,
Then into darkness!

PRINCE HENRY

Under it is written,

"Nothing but death shall separate thee and me!”

ELSIE

And what is this, that follows close upon it?

PRINCE HENRY

Death, playing on a dulcimer. Behind him,
A poor old woman, with a rosary,

Follows the sound, and seems to wish her feet
Were swifter to o'ertake him. Underneath,
The inscription reads, "Better is Death than Life."

ELSIE

Better is Death than Life! Ah, yes! to thousands Death plays upon a dulcimer, and sings

That song of consolation, till the air

Rings with it, and they cannot choose but follow
Whither he leads. And not the old alone,
But the young also hear it, and are still.

PRINCE HENRY

Yes, in their sadder moments, 'tis the sound
Of their own hearts they hear, half full of tears,
Which are like crystal cups, half filled with water,
Responding to the pressure of a finger

With music sweet and low and melancholy.
Let us go forward, and no longer stay
In this great picture-gallery of Death!
I hate it! ay, the very thought of it!

ELSIE

Why is it hateful to you?