BETA

The Cathedral.

Deep within the massive portal stands the old cathedral
door,1
Iron studded ; high above it, speaking of the days of
yore,2
Forms of kings and mitred prelates, from their niches
grim and gray,3
Look out upon the storm and sunshine, summer night
or winter day.4
Many centuries have encrusted o’er the walls unmould-
ering5
Memories that like lasting ivy round each aged buttress
cling ;6
’Mid the hoary aisles and arches linger thoughts of
bygone times,7
Dreamy as the low vibrations heard amid the clang of
chimes.8
Pictures of the past uprising, dimly glow upon the
gaze,9
And the present pales before the visions of departed
days :10
Pontiff, monk, and brave crusader, in strange cerements
folded long,11
Once again the proud cathedral people with a countless
throng.12
Far between the clustered columns winds the white-
robed priestly train ;13
Filling nave and lofty chancel, floats on high the choral
strain ;14
Glistening from the sculptured laver see the mystic
waters flow15
Into the baptismal emblem, traced upon a monarch’s
brow.16
Now that gorgeous seeming melteth into twilight’s
mantling gloom ;17
Down the stone-roofed choir descending evening’s
parting rays illume18
Helm and lance ; armed knights are kneeling on the
pavement while they swear19
Through the armies of the Paynim lifelong the red
cross to bear.20
Passing with the passing moments, like a vapour from
the sight,21
Sinks that scene of sunset glory under the deep pall of
night ;22
Faintly seen through pillared vistas, lifted altar tapers
shine23
Like the stars of midnight sparkling through dim woods
of stately pine ;24
Footsteps slow and solemn voices murmur in the dusky
air,25
Gleam the red funereal torches on the vault unclosed
and bare ;26
Through reverberating arches, wild and sad the death-
dirge rolls,27
Like the wail of unseen spirits pleading for departed
souls.28
Hark ! another tone is mingling with the Miserere’s
swell—29
Tolling out the hour of noontide, peals the great Cathe-
dral bell ;30
And the phantoms of the bygone, wavering melt and
fade away,31
As the midnight’s troubled visions vanish with the
break of day.32
Poured through Gothic pointed windows, veiled and
mellow, sunbeams pass,33
Casting gules and azure over tomb and monumental
brass ;34
And between the mullions pointed, kneeling in a fair
array,35
Robed in amethyst and ruby, saints and martyrs seem
to pray.36
Angel-faces fair above us, lighted by the varied
glow,37
By the skilled hand of some ancient master carven long
ago,38
Resting on their outspread pinions, with mild steadfast
glances gaze,39
While the organ’s mighty voices thunder forth their
hymns of praise.40
And when all the place is tranquil as some old slow-
chanted psalm,41
Downward still they look upon us, ever steadfast, mild,
and calm—42
Calm as faith, and mild as pity, beauty more than
mortal dwells :43
In those silent angel-faces crowned with spiked
asphodels.44
But the day-gleam dies upon them, evening hangs
along the walls45
Shadows like the sombre banners hung in trophy-
crowded halls ;46
Through the portal with its statues, dim in the soft
starry light,47
Pass we from the old Cathedral into the descending
night.48