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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339805" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Midnight Mass</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">An incident of the French Revolution.<br>The light lay trembling in a silver bar<br>Along the western borders of the sky;<br>From out the shadowy dome a little star<br>Stole forth to keep its patient watch on high;<br>And night came down, with solemn, soft embrace,<br>On storied Brittany.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another night lay over all the land—<br>The dark of hell, and lurid with its fire.<br>She heard the roar of fiends; she saw the brand<br>Flung red and hissing over roof and spire;<br>She saw her golden spurs and reaping-hooks<br>Tossed on the funeral pyre.<br>She stood in calm defiance, while the flood<br>Swept over her;—while everywhere was seen<br>Her dim, majestic cities drenched in blood;<br>Ashes and smoke where temple-walls had been;<br>And high on woodland knoll and market-place,<br>The ghastly guillotine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas hard to tear her peasant-souls apart<br>From priest and liege, and clinging faith of old;<br>'Twas hard to bend the strong and simple heart<br>By fear of torture or by love of gold:<br>For naught those gory hands could offer them<br>Might consciences be sold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“No tower or belfry shall be left to stand,”<br>Saint André swore, and waved his cap of red;<br>“You shall have naught in all this cursèd land<br>For sign of your superstition,—it is dead!”<br>A peasant heard, and raised his eyes to heaven;—<br>“You'll leave the stars,” he said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">True were the priests and people, each to each,<br>And all alike to their unlettered creed;<br>No violent force of sophistry could reach<br>Their rough-hewn faith in bitter time of need.<br>They died with deaf ears and dumb mouths; and theirs<br>Was martyrdom indeed!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Night—midnight—lay beneath her silver lamps;<br>Her deep sleep broken by the fitful glare</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of bivouac fires in noisy village camps,<br>And hoarse shouts mellowed through the listening air;<br>Save only where the sea-waves washed the coast—<br>'Twas still and quiet there:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The heave and swell, and sudden, plunging dash<br>Against the low rocks lying in their reach;<br>The hissing shingle, and the sweet, free plash<br>Of long-drawn breakers on the open beach;<br>And now and then, in momentary pause,<br>The curlew's mournful screech:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soft, low gurgle in the hollowed track<br>Through reef and boulder; and the rippling fall<br>Of idle wandering waters, swirling back<br>From secret tryst in Naiads' rocky hall;—<br>Only these sounds—save that deep monotone<br>Which held and hushed them all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only these sounds? Was nothing to be heard<br>But voice of breaker as it rose and fell,<br>The kelpie's song, the wailing of a bird?<br>Ay, far and faint amid the restless swell,<br>One other voice stole whispering through the air—<br>The chime of a silver bell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It came from dim mid-ocean, wild and free,<br>To listening ears, in silence of the night;<br>And watchful eyes saw, out upon the sea<br>And 'neath the stars, a little twinkling light—<br>Now lost behind a waving mountain-top,<br>Now shining clear and bright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Softly the fishers' boats began to glide<br>From shadowy rock and sheltered cave and creek;<br>Bronzed men and gentle maidens, side by side,<br>Dipped muffled oars; no woman-hand was weak.<br>All eyes turned, wistful, to the beacon-lamp;<br>But no one dared to speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The scattered specks, with each its little crowd,<br>Drew near, converging on the distant bark;<br>The sweet bell rang out louder and more loud,<br>The light shone bright and brighter in the dark;<br>And soon a hundred lips burst forth in praise—<br>For all had reach'd the ark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was the priest, with whom they came to sup,<br>White-hair'd and holy, by his humble board;<br>There, amid light and darkness lifted up,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blessed rood, by simple eyes adored.<br>Each head was bowed, each pious knee was bent<br>In presence of the Lord.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! 'twas a grand cathedral where they knelt!<br>Grand was the organ-music—vast the crypt<br>Wherein its wild, mysterious echoes dwelt;<br>And fresh and pure the incense, as it slipp'd<br>Down shining floor and down wide altar-steps,<br>With frosted silver tipp'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grand was the darken'd aisles and solemn nave—<br>The domèd roof, magnificently high—<br>The airy walls and mighty architrave—<br>The sweet star-tapers that could never die!<br>And grander still its purity of peace,<br>Its untouched sanctity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The worn and weary ones came there, to search<br>For rest and hope in holy Eucharist;<br>There—in the splendour of that solemn church—<br>They, priest and people, communed with the Christ;<br>Thus—with all other temples overthrown—<br>They kept his sacred tryst.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With calm, grave eyes and even-pulsing breath,<br>They dipp'd their still oars in the darken'd space.<br>Strong now the hands fast rowing back to death!—<br>And strong the simple hearts, new clothed in grace—<br>The hush'd and quiet souls—ere long to meet<br>Their Saviour face to face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ada+Cambridge">Ada Cambridge</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339805" data-title="The Midnight Mass de Ada Cambridge" data-description="An incident of the French Revolution.
The light lay trembling in a silver bar
Along the western borders of the sky;
From out the shadowy dome a little star
Stole forth to keep its patient watch on high;
And night came down, with solemn, soft embra..."></div>
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