THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL. FOUNDED ON AN OLD FRENCH LEGEND. 康 HE fettered Spirits linger Yet, on each feast of Mary Yet once-so runs the Legend— And all these holy spirits Rejoiced at Mary's name; One voice alone was wailing, Still wailing on the same. And though a great Te Deum Through the sweet voices broke: So when St. Michael questioned Thus the poor spirit spoke : "I am not cold or thankless, Or quench my ceaseless pain. "On earth a heart that loved me, Still lives and mourns me there, And the shadow of his anguish Is more than I can bear; All the torment that I suffer Is the thought of his despair. "The evening of my bridal A whole year since that day. "If I could only see him,- And speak one word of comfort He would endure with patience, Thus the Archangel answered :"Your time of pain is brief, And soon the peace of Heaven So much outweighs your grief, “Then through a special mercy I offer you this grace, You may seek him who mourns you And look upon his face, And speak to him of comfort For one short minute's space. "But when that time is ended, A thousand years in torment, The Lime-trees' shade at evening The night is calm and stilly, Except their happy voices: What is that cold bleak air That passes through the Lime-trees, And stirs the Bridegroom's hair? While one low cry of anguish, Of some dumb, hunted creature, Why does the Bridegroom shudder And turn so deathly pale? Near Purgatory's entrance The radiant Angels wait; It was the great St. Michael "Pass on," thus spoke the Angel: "Heaven's joy is deep and vast; Pass on, pass on, poor Spirit, For Heaven is yours at last; In that one minute's anguish Your thousand years have passed." |