ABBOT-- What?
Ready to give to one who cannot take,
Who cannot see my light beyond her light.
Shall I step in upon my mother's prayer
With noise, and say: "But see, yours is no god."
And pick and pound and blow her hope away
And loose her tears upon my father's corpse? (_A pause._)
Louis? (_A pause._) Shall I?
LOUIS-- (_Walking about with his head down._)
I have naught to say.
ABBOT--Do I still seem to be a hypocrite?
LOUIS-- (_Turning quickly._)
Father!
ABBOT--What should I say? "Your eye sees false"?
If they think rue will keep the devils off,
To kill their thought would bring the devils back
And leave them fleeing Hell, not seeking God;
A different thing though Benedict knows it not.
They are not ready for the larger life,
And in a day I cannot make them so.
They cannot take my light. Shall I take theirs,
Their little light, and leave them in the dark?
Take from their hearts the glory and the hope?
How do I know what God means by this thing?
If they should ask me I must drop my eyes
And say: "He hides to-morrow from to-day,"
Which is no answer, Louis, and I know it.
What can I do? No, I must seem to lie:
While I am serving God, seem to serve Hell;
Pray to the Giver of Light, "Thy will be done,"
And then give darkness! Oh, for some power,
Some angel, Louis, that should come from heaven
And free us from these bonds of policy!
That we must hide our light like secret parts
As though each shining ray were snake of Hell!
Oh, that some god would step down on the peaks
And make us throw our thought out on the dark,
As fields their seeds, leaving the god of growth
To separate and slay and bring to sheaf!
How I would lay this cope and this aside,
And with my face upon the mountains run,
Aye, run to meet the bright thing coming down,
And cry, "Hail, hail, hail, hail, thou blessed one!"
(_Shaking with emotion, his voice husky._)