Mary thus sang: Kyrie! Lo, our God comes,

Mankind to save from ill and bless:

What grateful joy should break our gloom

And fill our hearts with happiness!

Kyrie eleison!--God is born!

A virgin mother gives him birth;

And sin's dark bonds asunder torn,

Sweet heaven again inclines to earth.

Kyrie!--hear!--the sacred font Pours forth its saving waters free--

And Thou impressest on our front

The sign that drives our foes away.

Christe!--anointed victim!--Thou,

Who in thy death bestowest life--

The healing remedy for woe--

Ah! earth with many a woe is rife.

Christe eleison!--brother dear--

Our liberator from all ill--

Strong in Thy virtue, free from fear,

And be our help to virtue still.

Christe eleison! God and man--

Our only consolation here--

Oh! do not leave us 'neath the ban

Of sorrow perilous and drear.

Oh! Kyrie, Father--Kyrie Son--

Kyrie Spirit--we adore

The Triune God--Thee, only One!

Grant we may praise Thee evermore!

Silence reigned in the room some moments after the last sound had died

away, and then arose a murmur of admiration, and the young girl was

overwhelmed with felicitations.

Whilst being thus complimented, Mary noticed Geronimo at a little distance

from her. Desirous, perhaps, of escaping the praises lavished upon her,

or, it may be, yielding to a real desire, she approached the young man,

drew him towards the piano, and insisted upon his singing an Italian aria.

Geronimo at first refused, but his uncle requested him to yield to the

entreaties of the young girl. Taking up a lute, he hastily tuned it, and

sang the first word of the aria Italia! in such a tone of enthusiasm

that it struck a responsive chord in every Italian heart. The notes fell

from his lips like a shower of brilliant stars; his bosom heaved, his eyes

sparkled, and his rich tenor voice filling the hall produced an

indescribable effect upon the auditors. As his song proceeded, it seemed

to gain in expression and vigor, and as he repeated the refrain Mia bella

Italia! for the last time, his compatriots were so carried away by their

enthusiasm that, forgetful of decorum, all, even the most aged, waved

their caps, exclaiming: "Italia! Italia!"

Tears stood in the eyes of many.

Geronimo was complimented by all present. His uncle called him his beloved

son, Mary spoke to him in the most flattering manner, and Mr. Van de Werve

shook hands with him cordially.

As to Simon Turchi, he was overpowered; all he had just seen and heard was

such a martyrdom; jealousy so gnawed his heart that he sank deeper and

deeper into the abyss of hatred and vengeance. He stood a few steps from

Geronimo, his eyes downcast, and trembling with emotion.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024