The angel at the sepulchre . The Angel at the Sepulchre. Whom seek ye ? asks the angel of the maketh answer Mary Magdalen,Jesus of Nazareth, Him whom the angel, Lo, he is not here! And then — but hearken how upon the airThe sacred hymn is swelling, even now. I Cathedral choir. J Pone luctum, Magdalena ! Et Serena non est Simonis coena, Non, cur fletum exprimas :Causae mille sunt Isetandi,Causae mille exultandi: Halleluia! {Cathedral porch. Count Walter, repeating to himself one of his early love songs.\ If God should say, My throne to graceGo pluck me lilies,
The angel at the sepulchre . The Angel at the Sepulchre. Whom seek ye ? asks the angel of the maketh answer Mary Magdalen,Jesus of Nazareth, Him whom the angel, Lo, he is not here! And then — but hearken how upon the airThe sacred hymn is swelling, even now. I Cathedral choir. J Pone luctum, Magdalena ! Et Serena non est Simonis coena, Non, cur fletum exprimas :Causae mille sunt Isetandi,Causae mille exultandi: Halleluia! {Cathedral porch. Count Walter, repeating to himself one of his early love songs.\ If God should say, My throne to graceGo pluck me lilies, Azrael,Deaths angel, with his shining face,Would seek the spot where thou dost dwell ; And touching softly as a breath Thy virgin head where thou alone Dost kneel, would whisper, Come, God saith, I will have lilies for my throne. How the fond rh\mes ring echoing in my earsI writ for Agnes in her maidenhoodThat Easter morn. Who is the radiant boyThat sits within upon the sepulchre,. The Angel at the Sepulchre. And stirs my heart and makes my pulses beat With quenchless love and longing ? Oh ! my wife. Untimely snatched away, and I afar In Palestine, when, dread, the tidings came ! Brought them my brother. She is dead, he said, Her babe within her arms. And then himself Fell, smitten by the bloody Saracen. And at the bitter words all thought of home Grew hateful, and twice seven years I fought. Till a fierce longing seized me, and I toiled Oer land and sea, a wftiry, heart-sick way, And heard these Easter bells, and saw the throng Of pious people at the minster door, And entered with them and beheld a tomb, And seated on the tomb a youth who bore A lily, and his eyes were as the eyes Of Agnes, and I fled from out the place. [Gottfried comes throngJi the portal^ I pray you now that flower that you hold! Gottfried. Well mayst thou ask me for the hallowed thing;The priest has blessed it, and those shining dropsAre holy water glistening on its leaves. Count Walter. I
Size: 1462px × 1709px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidangelatsepul, bookyear1890
