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In tórment with the enemies of God."
"I swear,” said Agatha, and kissed the rood;
Then, taking each a hand, the attendant sisters
Upraised her from her knees and one of them
Dráwing the gold hoop from her finger dropped it
Ínto th’ offertory held by the other;
Next from her head they undíd the long white veil,
And loosed and let upon her shoulders fall
Her golden lócks, then in their arms both raised her
And laid her stretched at full length in the coffin,
Ånd the pall over her and the coffin spread,
Leaving the head bare, and beyond the edge
Of the coffin the dishévelled gold locks hanging;
Then one of them the lócks held while the bishop
Clean sheáred them from the head, saying same time: -
“As these locks never to the head return,
So thoú returnest never to the world.”
Out of the coffin then the two attendants
Raised her together, and the long black veil
Threw over her, head, neck and shoulders covering
Dówn to her waist behind; the bishop then
Námed her Euphemia, and upon her finger
Putting the núptial ring and on her head
The núptial crown, pronounced her Christ's affianced,
The Lord's own spouse now and for ever more,
And, having given into her hand the attested
Act of Profession and the Rules of the Order,
Rósary and prayerbook, raised both hands and blessed her
And både her go in peace; then the abbess kissed her
And all the sisters kissed her one by one;
And having sung a hymn, all left the chapel:
The nóvices before, the prior following,
And then the bishop, next the lady abbess
Heading the black veils, with the last of whom

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And youngest, tottering walked the new-professed,
The white veils last, the great bell again tolling.
The cloíster court they round and up the stair
Tó the refectory and collation frugal:
Sausage and cheese and bread, and each one glass
Of Rüdesheimer four years in the cellar.
The prior and bishop some short quarter hour
Converse of things indifferent with the abbess;
Take leáve; the wicket again opens, closes;
The patter of the mules' hoofs dies away;
Eách to her séparate cell the nuns retire,
And once more still as death 's Saint Ursula's cloister.
Next dáy a messenger conveys the parents
All of their daughter that they now might claim:
The golden ringlets sheared off by the bishop;
And in one narrow cell from that day forth,
Strictest and hóliest of Saint Ursula's nuns,
In pénitence and prayer lived Agatha,
Except when morning, noon, or evening bell
Cálled her to chapel, or her daily walk
She took the court round or the high-walled garden,
ór at long intervals in a sister's presence
Spoke some short moments through the parlour grating
With some once dear friend of her former world.
So fórty years she lived and so she died,
And other Agathas walking where she walked
Her náme read on a flag beneath their feet
As from the court they turn into the chapel.

Begun while walking from RIED to Sanct Anton on the ADLERBERG (German TYROL), Sept. 4 5, 1854; finished at TEUFEN in Canton APPENZELL, Sept. 12, 1854.

I LÍKE the Belgian cleanliness and comfort,
The Bélgian liberty of thought and action,
The ancient Belgian cities, full of churches
With pointed windows and long Gothic aisles
And vócal steeples that pour every hour
Dówn from the cloúds their lárklike melody;
I love too the soft Belgian languages,
Walloon and Flemish, and the Belgian song,
And Bélgium's pictures chiefly thine, Van Eyck!
Unequalled colorist, and first who dipped
In oil the pencil. But I like not all,
Múch though I like in Belgium; I like not
Its hill-less, smooth, unvariegated landscape,
Where even the very rivers seem to languish;
Still léss I like its parallel, straight-cut roads
Where séldom but to telescope-armed eye
Discernible the further end or turning;
And leást of all I like him whóm Cologne,
Proúd of a little, fain would call her own,
Though foreign-born, him of the broad, slouched hat,
The painter who shades red and with red streaks
And bloody blotches daubs the sprawling limbs
Óf his fat Venuses and Medicis,
Susánnas, Ariadnes and Madonnas,
Álways except his sweétheart with the stráw hat,

For whose sake I 'd forgive his sins though doubled -But other lands invite me, farewell Belgium !

Thrice welcome, Holland! refuge, in old times,
Of persecuted virtue, wisdom, learning;
Mighty Rhine-delta, I admire thy ports
Fúll of tall másts, wayfarers of both oceans;
Thy cabinets replenished with the riches
Of either Ind; thy dikes, canals, and sluices,
And térritory from the deep sea won
Bý thy hard toil and skill and perseverance;
But I like not thy smug, smooth-sháven faces,
Sleék, methodístic hair, and white cravats,
And swallowtailed black coats, and trowsers black;
Still léss I like the odour of thy streets
Ére by kind winter frozen, and the far more
Than Jewish eagerness with which thou graspest
At every pound or penny fairly earned,
Ór it may bé unfairly so I turn
Southward my pilgrim step, and say — "Farewell!"

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Two Germanies there are, antipodistic
Each of the other, a Northern and a Southern:
Stúrdy the one, and stiffnecked and reserved,
Cautious, suspicious, economical, prudent,
Indústrious, indefatigable, patient,
Stúdious and meditative and with art's
And literature's most noble spoils enriched,
That raised, three hundred years ago, revolt's
Audácious standard against mother church
And from that day has lived and florished fair
Withoút the help of Pope, Bull, or Indulgence,
Ảnd in its naked, shrineless temples worshipped
Its únsubstantial notion of a God.,

South Germany, less thoughtful, and preferring
Eáse and known ways to toilsome innovation,
Clíngs to its fóresires' creed, and only closer
And clóser clings the more it is shown to be
Nonsense downright, hypocrisy and imposture.
Bóth Germanies my diligent, plodding feet
From North to South from East to West have travelled,
From filthy, rích, commercial, sensual Hamburg
To the far Draúthal and the Ortelerspitz,
Ánd from where in the Moldau's wave reflected
The minarets of Prague, to where broad Rhine,
Fresh from Helvétia's Alps and glaciers, washes
Básel's white walls and weak Erasmus' tomb,
And I have found the German, in the main,
A plain fair-dealer without second purpose
And to his word true; seldom over-courteous,
And álways quite inquisitive enough
About your náme, your country, your religion,
Whence, whíther, what and why and where and when;
And take fair warning, reader! shouldst thou ever,
Smít with the love of that coy spinster, Knowledge,
Vénture upon a German tour pedestrian,
Outside the limits of still courteous Schwarzwald,
The watchdog all day long his iron chain
Clánks on each boór's inhospitable threshold,
And even the inn door in the country opens
Slówly and súllenly or not at all
To the beláted, tired and houseless stranger.

From Gérmany I turn into Tyról;
A kíndlier, friendlier land; where tired pedestrian
Though he arrive late has no growl to fear
Of súrly watchdog or more surly landlord,
But greeted with “Willkommen!” and the smile

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