SOLOMAN-- (_Leaning out of the window._)
_Heus, heus, O fratres, favete linguis!_
The train is safe. The tigers of the god
Are ramping down the mountain, yoked in vines
Whose dangling clusters sway their tawny backs
And purple all the sky above the peaks.
Limp in the car the noisy Bromios
Tips the full cup and stains his ivory breast.
Look, yonder his herald, plump Silenus, comes!
(_He points up the mountain over the gate through
which the Abbot passed._)
RENE--Ho, that's the occasion of the trumpet blast!
FIRST MONK--No need of casks.
BASIL-- No need of empty casks.
This is keel that draws five fathoms full.
RENE--And where it anchors, there a reef appears.
BASIL--And where it founders, there the--sea goes down.
RENE--Its beak hath ta'en the color o' the wave.
SIMON-- (_To_ FIRST MONK.)
If Father Benedict had had the train
Or been among the muleteers, I'd say
No wonder Andrew couldn't find the wine.
RENE--Come on, Simon; let's go meet Macias.
BASIL--If we can't wine it we can dine it.
SIMON--(_As he passes Leo._) Bah!