Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

Page 13 text:

THE REVEILLE 11 the tall marble pillars on which rested the beautifully chisled stone arches cast indeterminable shadows over the tapestried walls. The stone effigies of saints standing around the walls seemed to have bowed their heads in prayer because of the holiness of the place. The waxen tapers on the wonderfully carved altar threw a faint circle of light around the shining heap of armour lying nearby, while from the incense burning in the golden cup suspended from the ceiling rose a cloud of sweet smelling vapour, which, penetrating the farthermost corners of the chapel, seemed allegorical of an earnest prayer ascending heavenward. lerick paused from his steady march to and fro, and stood iff, lost in thought. voven with his childhood days passed before his concen- ` a wonderful panorama. Неге is a scene which he could y It is a picture of his beautiful sainted mother bending ove! li e curly headed boy himself. 'The look of mother- love resting on her dear face gives her the appearance of a celestial being. She is teaching him his daily prayer, which he lisps after her with his childish lips. The scene changes. Again his beautiful mother appears, but now a dark shadow rests upon her countenance. She is taking farewell of his beloved father—her husband, who dressed in shining armour, his helmet surmounted by a waving red plume, must away to a far-off land to help his King. A last embrace, a kiss, and stern Duty, has torn a father from his home and family. Again the shifting of the scenes, and now Roderick sees a field of battle. In the distance can be seen the spires of the Holy City. A mighty host is gathered on that field. A sound of a bugle and those steel ‘clad men, with deathless resolve stamped on their pale brows, surge forward against the dark-visaged foe. A trampling of steeds, a clashing of ar- mour, a fearful turmoil,—a human maelstrom terrible in its intensity. Fight on! fight on! brave knights, for your God and King! The King? Holy St. George! The King is surrounded by foes. He will be killed. But wait. Who is it that stems the human tide as a ship does the sea? It is a knight dressed in glittering armor, whose helmeted head is sur- mounted by a waving red plume. He cuts his way through his foes to the succor of his King. With mighty blows he scatters his foes. The King is saved; but where is the brave knight? Scores of lances pierce. He talls, and the struggling tide sweeps over him. Yet again the scene changes. Now Roderick is in the castle of his birth. Again his mother appears. She is whispering to her little boy about her brave father in the wars. But why does that startled look pass over her countenance? Why does she rise and look anxiously into the starless night. The foreboding silence is broken by an ominous crackling. The room is filling with smoke. The castle is on fire. Now red tongues of flame leap high over the burning castle and now the treacherous besiegers raise their exultant shouts. The towers shake and tremble as a knight rushes into the burning castle and fights his way t« the mother and child. He grasps the boy and dashes out, but ere he can return the castle falls with a mighty crash. With a cry of anguish Roderick dropped to his knees before the altar. It seemed to him that this final scene had been enacted before his gaze, so real had it appeared. “My mother, my dear mother,” he groaned, “why did not Sir James, your brother, save thy life from the castle instead of mine?” “Father in Heaven,” he prayed, “give me strength to be a true knight,

Page 12 text:

THE REVEILLE THE VIGIL. By Henry W. Lif The night of ` vigil! How important, how full of meaning аге these few words, which stand for so much in the life of the young man striving to attain that far off goal—knighthood. How wonderful they sound, representing as they do the last of the long series of duties before the attainment of knighthood. The night of the vigil! With awe, the page repeats the words, for his “Night of the Vigil” appears to him aeons and aeons away. The squire speaks of his “Night of the Vigil” with hopeful expectations, for soon he, too, will have to think of that important duty. The young knight-on-the-morrow-to-be, however, repeats the words with reverence and thankfulness, for to him it is a reality. Such was the case with Roderick Owen. From the early morning, till now, near sunset, the day had been a busy one for him, for this com- ing night was his “Night of the Vigil.’ After his uncle, Sir James Owen, had addressed him on the duties and aspirations of knighthood, Roderick had gone through the “Order of the bath,” a solemn ceremony, during which he was examined by two old veteran knights as to his fitness for becoming a knight. He had then been clothed » a red robe symbolical of the blood he might be called upon to shed in defense of the oppressed, a black, tight gown representing the meters of death to be solved hereafter, and last, a snow-white tunic symbolical of his purity. Now, he was awaiting the moment when he was to be escorted by the priests into the bez utiful chapel, where he was tø pass the night in prayer and in guarding his armour. At last, amid a splendor which seemed to herald the coming devo- tions, the sun went down and Roderick, his hands folded over his bosom, was led by the two solemn priests through the long deserted halls the castle to the chapel on the eastern side. “My son,” spoke the elder of the priests, as they paused before the entran е, “you are about to enter the ит: place of prayer. Have com- plete faith in thy Maker and beseech Him to guard and sustain thee in thy career as knight. Pray of Him to give the strength and courage to fight infidels and unbelievers, to make thee faithful to thy God and King, and to consecrate thy armour in the Holy Cause. The priests then opened the door and conducted Roderick to the altar, where with a “Fare thee well, my son,” they left him. For some time after the priests had left, Roderick stood motionless, then he slowly sank to his knees and clasped his hands together in prayer. He seemed to look over and beyond the altar as if it was there that he saw the All-Seeing God. His pale face was transfigured by the earnestness of his prayer, so that he looked like a heavenly being. To = Lord of the Universe, to the Former of Destinies, to the Heavenly Father he prayed, asking Him for guidance in his career as knight, and beseeching Him to strengthen his arm against Unbelievers and Oppres- sors of the Weak, to strengthen his mind against Temptation which might beset his path, to give him courage to do what was right, and to make him a true and faithful knight. Long and earnestly Roderick prayed, after which he rose and, pick- ing up the long pilgrim’s staff standing near the altar, he marched to and fro across the tiled floor of the chapel. It was then that he began to take notice of the beauty of the Holy Place. The crescent moon, shining faintly through the exquisitely stained glass windows, cast a shimmering glow over the tiled floor, while

Page 14 text:

THE REVEILLE