A DEAD KING
_Ferdinand II entered Malebolge May 22nd, 1859._
Go down to h.e.l.l. This end is good to see; The breath is lightened and the sense at ease Because thou art not; sense nor breath there is In what thy body was, whose soul shall be Chief nerve of h.e.l.l"s pained heart eternally.
Thou art abolished from the midst of these That are what thou wast: Pius from his knees Blows off the dust that flecked them, bowed for thee.
Yea, now the long-tongued slack-lipped litanies Fail, and the priest has no more prayer to sell-- Now the last Jesuit found about thee is The beast that made thy fouler flesh his cell-- Time lays his finger on thee, saying, "Cease; Here is no room for thee; go down to h.e.l.l."
II
A YEAR AFTER
If blood throbs yet in this that was thy face, O thou whose soul was full of devil"s faith, If in thy flesh the worm"s bite slackeneth In some acute red pause of iron days, Arise now, gird thee, get thee on thy ways, Breathe off the worm that crawls and fears not breath; King, it may be thou shalt prevail on death; King, it may be thy soul shall find out grace.
O spirit that hast eased the place of Cain, Weep now and howl, yea weep now sore; for this That was thy kingdom hath spat out its king.
Wilt thou plead now with G.o.d? behold again, Thy prayer for thy son"s sake is turned to a hiss, Thy mouth to a snake"s whose slime outlives the sting,
III
PETER"S PENCE FROM PERUGIA
Iscariot, thou grey-grown beast of blood, Stand forth to plead; stand, while red drops run here And there down fingers shaken with foul fear, Down the sick shivering chin that stooped and sued, Bowed to the bosom, for a little food At Herod"s hand, who smites thee cheek and ear.
Cry out, Iscariot; haply he will hear; Cry, till he turn again to do thee good.
Gather thy gold up, Judas, all thy gold, And buy thee death; no Christ is here to sell, But the dead earth of poor men bought and sold, While year heaps year above thee safe in h.e.l.l, To grime thy grey dishonourable head With dusty shame, when thou art d.a.m.ned and dead.
IV
PAPAL ALLOCUTION
"Popule mi, quid tibi feci?"
What hast thou done? Hark, till thine ears wax hot, Judas; for these and these things hast thou done.
Thou hast made earth faint, and sickened the sweet sun, With fume of blood that reeks from limbs that rot; Thou hast washed thine hands and mouth, saying, "Am I not Clean?" and thy lips were b.l.o.o.d.y, and there was none To speak for man against thee, no, not one; This hast thou done to us, Iscariot.
Therefore, though thou be deaf and heaven be dumb, A cry shall be from under to proclaim In the ears of all who shed men"s blood or sell Pius the Ninth, Judas the Second, come Where Boniface out of the filth and flame Barks for his advent in the clefts of h.e.l.l. (i)
(i) Dante, "Inferno," xix. 53.
V
THE BURDEN OF AUSTRIA
1866
O daughter of pride, wasted with misery, With all the glory that thy shame put on Stripped off thy shame, O daughter of Babylon, Yea, whoso be it, yea, happy shall he be That as thou hast served us hath rewarded thee.
Blessed, who throweth against war"s boundary stone Thy warrior brood, and breaketh bone by bone Misrule thy son, thy daughter Tyranny.
That landmark shalt thou not remove for shame, But sitting down there in a widow"s weed Wail; for what fruit is now of thy red fame?
Have thy sons too and daughters learnt indeed What thing it is to weep, what thing to bleed?
Is it not thou that now art but a name? (ii)
(ii) "A geographical expression."--Metternich of Italy.
VI
LOCUSTA
Come close and see her and hearken. This is she.
Stop the ways fast against the stench that nips Your nostril as it nears her. Lo, the lips That between prayer and prayer find time to be Poisonous, the hands holding a cup and key, Key of deep h.e.l.l, cup whence blood reeks and drips; The loose lewd limbs, the reeling hingeless hips, The scurf that is not skin but leprosy.
This haggard harlot grey of face and green With the old hand"s cunning mixes her new priest The cup she mixed her Nero, stirred and spiced.
She lisps of Mary and Jesus Nazarene With a tongue tuned, and head that bends to the east, Praying. There are who say she is bride of Christ.
VII
CELAENO
The blind king hides his weeping eyeless head, Sick with the helpless hate and shame and awe, Till food have choked the glutted h.e.l.l-bird"s craw And the foul cropful creature lie as dead And soil itself with sleep and too much bread: So the man"s life serves under the beast"s law, And things whose spirit lives in mouth and maw Share shrieking the soul"s board and soil her bed, Till man"s blind spirit, their sick slave, resign Its kingdom to the priests whose souls are swine, And the scourged serf lie reddening from their rod, Discrowned, disrobed, dismantled, with lost eyes Seeking where lurks in what conjectural skies That triple-headed hound of h.e.l.l their G.o.d.
VIII
A CHOICE
Faith is the spirit that makes man"s body and blood Sacred, to crown when life and death have ceased His heavenward head for high fame"s holy feast; But as one swordstroke swift as wizard"s rod Made Caesar carrion and made Brutus G.o.d, Faith false or true, born patriot or born priest, Smites into semblance or of man or beast The soul that feeds on clean or unclean food.
Lo here the faith that lives on its own light, Visible music; and lo there, the foul Shape without shape, the harpy throat and howl.
Sword of the spirit of man! arise and smite, And sheer through throat and claw and maw and tongue Kill the beast faith that lives on its own dung.