eamed
of, but ne'er had the good luck to see. Me miserable, by what hard
fortune do I come to it now? Well then, Denys," continued the young man
less warmly, "it is old enough to have been founded by a Roman lady
in the first century of grace, and sacked by Attila the barbarous, and
afterwards sore defaced by the Norman Lothaire. And it has a church
for every week in the year forbye chapels and churches innumerable
of convents and nunneries, and above all, the stupendous minster yet
unfinished, and therein, but in their own chapel, lie the three kings
that brought gifts to our Lord, Melchior gold, and Gaspar frankincense,
and Balthazar the black king, he brought myrrh; and over their bones
stands the shrine the wonder of the world; it is of ever-shining brass
brighter than gold, studded with images fairly wrought, and inlaid with
exquisite devices, and brave with colours; and two broad stripes run to
and fro, of jewels so great, so rare, each might adorn a crown or
ransom its wearer at need; and upon it stand the three kings curiously
counterfeited, two in solid silver, richly gilt; these be bareheaded;
but he of Aethiop ebony, and beareth a golden crown; and in the midst
our blessed Lady, in virgin silver, with Christ in her arms; and at the
corners, in golden branches, four goodly waxen tapers do burn night and
day. Holy eyes have watched and renewed that light unceasingly for
ages, and holy eyes shall watch them in saecula. I tell thee, Denys, the
oldest song, the oldest Flemish or German legend, found them burning,
and they shall light the earth to its grave. And there is St. Ursel's
church, a British saint's, where lie her bones and all the other virgins
her fellows; eleven thousand were they who died for the faith, being put
to the sword by barbarous Moors, on the twenty-third day of October, two
hundred and thirty-eight. Their bones are piled in the vaults, and many
of their skulls are in the church. St. Ursel's is in a thin golden case,
and stands on the high altar, but shown to humble Christians only on
solemn days."

"Eleven thousand virgins!" cried Denys. "What babies German men must
have been in days of yore. Well, would all their bones might turn flesh
again, and their skulls sweet faces, as we pass through the gates. 'Tis
odds but some of them are wearied of their estate by this time."

"Tush, Denys!" said Gerard; "why wilt thou, being good, still make
thyself seem evil? If thy wishing-cap be on, pray tha