Mortadello

74 MORTADELLO Citizens, kneel ! to your knees and gaze upon your saint ! [All fall upon their knees, and with clasped hands gaze upwards to the window, where in a moment MONICA, with arms crossed upon her breast appears. MONICA. There is no need of West or East, of moon or sun. The door is shut, the marriage feast of God begun. There is a song that never tires, and there a light More sweet and strong than all the fires of day or night There is a taste, a savour shed ; is honey sweet, Is moon-wort chaste ? Its flavour fed the Paraclete ! There is a grace and a perfume no earthly bower Showers from its space of lily-bloom and passion flower. There is a touch, sublime, caress beyond all kisses Kissed overmuch in love’s distress—they are not as this is ! Ah, me unworthy of the love of God ! me stained With every sin, and bruised with every rod ! me drained Of all things, given up to the great King ! me brought By infinite mercy to his banqueting, me wrought Out of myself, out of all earthly taint ! Me shod Even with the silver sandals of a saint of God ! ALESSANDRO. She is with God, not upon earth ! A CITIZEN. Ask for her prayers. MONICA. Thy will be done, thy will, O God, not mine or theirs ! Purge me of will ! It was my wicked will that kept Me back so long, so long, from rousing That which slept ALESSANDRO. O Lady Monica ! can you not speak one word ? MONICA. My ears are open, yet in sooth I have not heard. ALESSANDRO. Pray for us !