Page:Poems Barrett.djvu/136

But this fairest my sister, ye think now to wed,
Bid her kneel where she standeth, and shrive her instead—
    O shrive her and wed not!"

In tears, the bride's mother,—"Sir priest, unto thee
Would he lie, as he lied to this fair companie!"
In wrath, the bride's lover,—"The lie shall be clear!
Speak it out, boy! the saints in their niches shall hear—
    Be the charge proved or said not! "

Then serene in his childhood he lifted his face,
And his voice sounded holy and fit for the place—
"Look down from your niches, ye still saints, and see
How she wears on her bosom a brown rosarie!
    Is it used for the praying? "

The youths looked aside—to laugh there were a sin—
And the maidens' lips trembled with smiles shut within:
Quoth the priest—" Thou art wild, pretty boy! Blessed she,
Who prefers at her bridal a brown rosarie
    To a worldly arraying! "

The bridegroom spake low and led onward the bride,
And before the high altar they stood side by side:
The rite-book is opened, the rite is begun—
They have knelt down together to rise up as one—
    Who laughed by the altar?

The maidens looked forward, the youths looked around,—
The bridegroom's eye flashed from his prayer at the sound;
And each saw the bride, as if no bride she were,
Gazing cold at the priest, without gesture of prayer,
    As he read from the psalter.

The priest never knew that she did so, but still
He felt a power on him, too strong for his will;
And whenever the Great Name was there to be read,
His voice sank to silence—that could not be said,
    Or the air could not hold it.