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228
RIBE.
Chap. XLVI.
shall be the man. I have always heard that he who
bears the cross, crosses first himself.” And he became
Bishop of Ribe.
The monument of the last Popish prelate, old Bishop
Munk, stands imbedded in the wall of the outer arch,
in all the pomp of mitre, crosier, and episcopal robes.
Here reappear the three roses of the Munks, and a star
of Gyldenstierne. He married a lady of that family,
and embraced the Protestant faith to please King
Christian (to say nothing of the convent of Tvis).
Whether it be matrimony or the Reformation, never
did portly ecclesiastic look so thoroughly overcome by
his feelings as he does on the tombstone erected to his
memory. We have also Hans Tausen, second
Protestant Bishop of Ribe—first his portrait, in an ermine
tippet, sour as verjuice; and then comes his epitaph,
well worn by the feet of passers by, but now imbedded
in the wall. It is to be hoped he did not compose it
himself—“ I. I. I.,”—for it is a very conceited one.
Then we have no more monuments of general interest,
no new names, save those of Holt and “ Ostvald,” our
Scottish Oswald, on an old well-worn stone. We mount
the tower, a necessary evil in a flat country if you wish
to know its whereabouts. Passing through a narrow
carved oak doorway of Bishop Munk’s day, bearing his
three roses, we mount ladder upon ladder, and then
through a trap-door w^ arrive in open air again—
country flat as a pancake, green as the Emerald Isle;
running streams surround the tower on three sides, the
North Sea in the distance; meadow as far as eye can
extend—nothing but meadow. In front towards the
city stands a mound, the site of historic Ribehuus.
As regards øprors, Ribe seems to have been lucky in
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