Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

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80 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE "The State shall be greater than the Church ! Wolsey shall be put down ! Today shall Anne Boleyn be rav Queen!" In vain did his counselors urge caution and prudence. The undisciplined, fiery nature of the King would brook no more restraint. Only by fleeing from the Court to the sacred walls of a monastery did Wolsey escape with his life ! And so, amid the chiming of bells, the blaring of trumpets and the shouts of thousands of the King's subjects, the fair young Anne Boleyn rode by the King's side, down a ro se-s t r e wn road, at the head of a gorge ous procession, to the palace of the King. What were this maiden's thoughts as she looked at the bright assemblage in the throne room? Did the pure faces of the children, who scattered rose petals adown the aisle before her, awaken no restless questionings in her soul? Did no thought of the deposed Queen, now lying sick unto death in the house of her relatives, come whispering softly to Anne : ' ' Thy reign, too, shall end ! ' ' Judge not too harshly this young girl who found favor in the sight of her King. In that age it was a mark of honor to win the King's approval, and sweet Anne Boleyn 's day of triumph was short — her end tragic and bitter ! Decorously and meekly, she received her crown. With shy, almost childish grace, she placed her hand in the King's. Then the bells pealed forth, and the hurrahing multitude took up their shouts again. And, away from the din, in a dimly lit cloister cell, Cardinal Wolsey stood, a silent, majestic figure, by a narrow window facing the west. As he lifted his eyes in rapt meditation, a golden glow from the setting sun poured a flood of radiance over him, bringing tiny flames from t h a cross which he held so reverently. Faintly thru the air came the blare of trumpets, the chime of bells, the echoing shouts from the distant city, and bowing his head, the Cardinal murmured, softly: "Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my King, he would not in mine old age have left me naked to mine enemies!" <$xSx$x8><sxS>3> What dream of beauty ever equaled this? What bands from Faervland have sallied forth With snowy foliage from the abundant North, With imagery from the realms of bliss! What visions of my boyhood do I miss That here are not restored? —Hoiritt.