Forthwith to Rome I fled; there knelt I down Above the bones of Peter and of Paul, And saw the mitred embassies from far, And saw Celestine with his head high held As though it bore the Blessed Sacrament; Chief Shepherd of the Saviour’s flock on earth. Tall was the man, and swift; white-haired; with eye Starlike and voice a trumpet clear that pealed God’s Benediction o’er the city and globe; Yea, and whene’er his palm he lifted, still Blessing before it ran. Upon my head He laid both hands, and “Win,” he said, “to Christ One realm the more!” Moreover, to my charge Relics he gave, unnumbered, without price; And when those relics lost had been, and found, And at his feet I wept, he chided not; But, smiling, said, “Thy glorious task fulfilled, House them in thy new country’s stateliest church By cresset girt of ever-burning lamps, And never-ceasing anthems.”
Northward then Returned I, missioned. Yet once more, but once, That old temptation proved me. When they sat, The Elders, making inquest of my life, Sudden a certain brother rose, and spake, “Shall this man be a Bishop, who hath sinned?” My dearest friend was he. To him alone One time had I divulged a sin by me Through ignorance wrought when fifteen years of age; And after thirty years, behold, once more, That sin had found me out! He knew my mission: When in mine absence slander sought my name, Mine honour he had cleared. Yet now—yet now— That hour the iron passed into my soul: Yea, well nigh all was lost. I wept, “Not one, No heart of man there is that knows my heart, Or in its anguish shares.”
Yet, O my God! I blame him not: from Thee that penance came: Not for man’s love should Thine Apostle strive, Thyself alone his great and sole reward. Thou laid’st that hour a fiery hand of love Upon a faithless heart; and it survived.
At dead of night a Vision gave me peace. Slowly from out the breast of darkness shone Strange characters, a writing unrevealed: And slowly thence and infinitely sad, A Voice: “Ill-pleased, this day have we beheld The face of the Elect without a name.” It said not, “Thou hast grieved,” but “We have grieved;” With import plain, “O thou of little faith! Am I not nearer to thee than thy friends? Am I not inlier with thee than thyself?” Then I remembered, “He that touches you Doth touch the very apple of mine eye.” Serene I slept. At morn I rose and ran Down to the shore, and found a boat, and sailed.