Woe to him by whom it is broken!--Richard of England, recall the most unhallowed message thou hast given to that baron.

Danger and death are nigh thee!--the dagger is glancing at thy very throat!--" "Danger and death are playmates to Richard," answered the Monarch proudly; "and he hath braved too many swords to fear a dagger." "Danger and death are near," replied the seer, and sinking his voice to a hollow, unearthly tone, he added, "And after death the judgment!" "Good and holy father," said Richard, "I reverence thy person and thy sanctity--" "Reverence not me!" interrupted the hermit; "reverence sooner the vilest insect that crawls by the shores of the Dead Sea, and feeds upon its accursed slime.

But reverence Him whose commands I speak--reverence Him whose sepulchre you have vowed to rescue--revere the oath of concord which you have sworn, and break not the silver cord of union and fidelity with which you have bound yourself to your princely confederates." "Good father," said the King, "you of the church seem to me to presume somewhat, if a layman may say so much, upon the dignity of your holy character.

Without challenging your right to take charge of our conscience, methinks you might leave us the charge of our own honour." "Presume!" repeated the hermit.

"Is it for me to presume, royal Richard, who am but the bell obeying the hand of the sexton--but the senseless and worthless trumpet carrying the command of him who sounds it?
See, on my knees I throw myself before thee, imploring thee to have mercy on Christendom, on England, and on thyself!" "Rise, rise," said Richard, compelling him to stand up; "it beseems not that knees which are so frequently bended to the Deity should press the ground in honour of man.