Page:Poems Proctor.djvu/34

It beams in jewels from my crown;
 My standard takes its form,
And the noblest knights about it press
 Nor fear the battle's storm;
In every banner's fold it waves,
 On every shield it shines,
And the helmets lift it proud and high
 Along their gleaming lines.
O saintly mother, hasten hence
 With an imperial train!
And towers shall rise for watching eyes
On cliff and crag against the skies
 By stream and mount and main,
That fire may flash the bliss to me
If you should find the wondrous Tree!"

So, when the favoring west-wind blew
 And the stars of summer rose,
Went Helena, in vesture gray,—
With a princely band to guard her way
 To the place of the Lord's repose;
Nor pride, nor pomp, nor purple state,
Meek she knocked at the sacred gate
 And prayed the bars unclose.
And entering in with reverent feet
 And murmured vow and prayer,
She called the faithful ones to tell
The secret guarded long and well
 Of the Holy Places there.
Alas, alas! on Calvary
 Was a shameless pagan shrine;