Francis and the Franciscan literature. He became at once the centre of a
circle which grouped itself on the terrace, while he pointed to spot
after spot, dimly white on the shadows of the moon-lit plain, linking
each with the Franciscan legend and the passion of Franciscan poetry.
The slopes of San Damiano, the sites of Spello, Bevagna, Cannara; Rivo
Torto, the hovering dome of the Portiuncula, the desolate uplands that
lead to the Carceri; one after another, the scenes and images--grotesque
or lovely--simple or profound--of the vast Franciscan story rose into
life under his touch, till they generated in those listening the answer
of the soul of to-day to the soul of the Poverello. Poverty, misery,
and crime--still they haunt the Umbrian villages and the Assisan
streets; the shadows of them, as the north knows them, lay deep and
terrible in Marion Vincent's eyes. But as the poet spoke the eternal
protest and battle-cry of Humanity swelled up against them--overflowed,
engulfed them. The hearts of some of his listeners burned within them.
And finally he brought them back to the famous legend of the hidden
church: deep, deep in the rock--below the two churches that we see
to-day; where St.
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