Part 28 (1/2)

Not, mark, by robust swelling of the thews, But puffed and flabby large with gross increase Of wine-fat, plague-fat, dropsy-fat.

O shame, Thou Pope that cheatest G.o.d at Avignon, Thou that shouldst be the Father of the world And Regent of it whilst our G.o.d is gone; Thou that shouldst blaze with conferred majesty And smite old l.u.s.t-o'-the-Flesh so as by flame; Thou that canst turn thy key and lock Grief up Or turn thy key and unlock Heaven's Gate, Thou that shouldst be the veritable hand That Christ down-stretcheth out of heaven yet To draw up him that fainteth to His heart, Thou that shouldst bear thy fruit, yet virgin live, As she that bore a man yet sinned not, Thou that shouldst challenge the most special eyes Of Heaven and Earth and h.e.l.l to mark thee, since Thou shouldst be Heaven's best captain, Earth's best friend, And h.e.l.l's best enemy -- false Pope, false Pope, The world, thy child, is sick and like to die, But thou art dinner-drowsy and cannot come: And Life is sore beset and crieth 'help!'

But thou brook'st not disturbance at thy wine: And France is wild for one to lead her souls; But thou art huge and fat and laggest back Among the remnants of forsaken camps.

Thou'rt not G.o.d's Pope, thou art the Devil's Pope.

Thou art first Squire to that most puissant knight, Lord Satan, who thy faithful squires.h.i.+p long Hath watched and well shall guerdon.

Ye sad souls, So faint with work ye love not, so thin-worn With miseries ye wrought not, so outraged By strokes of ill that pa.s.s th' ill-doers' heads And cleave the innocent, so desperate tired Of insult that doth day by day abuse The humblest dignity of humblest men, Ye cannot call toward the Church for help.

The Church already is o'erworked with care Of its dyspeptic stomach.

Ha, the Church Forgets about eternity.

I had A vision of forgetfulness.

O Dream Born of a dream, as yonder cloud is born Of water which is born of cloud!

I thought I saw the moonlight lying large and calm Upon the unthrobbing bosom of the earth, As a great diamond glittering on a shroud.

A sense of breathlessness stilled all the world.

Motion stood dreaming he was changed to Rest, And Life asleep did fancy he was Death.

A quick small shadow spotted the white world; Then instantly 'twas huge, and huger grew By instants till it did o'ergloom all s.p.a.ce.

I lifted up mine eyes -- O thou just G.o.d!

I saw a spectre with a million heads Come frantic downward through the universe, And all the mouths of it were uttering cries, Wherein was a sharp agony, and yet The cries were much like laughs: as if Pain laughed.

Its myriad lips were blue, and sometimes they Closed fast and only moaned dim sounds that shaped Themselves to one word, 'Homeless', and the stars Did utter back the moan, and the great hills Did bellow it, and then the stars and hills Bandied the grief o' the ghost 'twixt heaven and earth.

The spectre sank, and lay upon the air, And brooded, level, close upon the earth, With all the myriad heads just over me.

I glanced in all the eyes and marked that some Did glitter with a flame of lunacy, And some were soft and false as feigning love, And some were blinking with hypocrisy, And some were overfilmed by sense, and some Blazed with ambition's wild, unsteady fire, And some were burnt i' the sockets black, and some Were dead as embers when the fire is out.

A curious zone circled the Spectre's waist, Which seemed with strange device to symbol Time.

It was a silver-gleaming thread of day Spiral about a jet-black band of night.

This zone seemed ever to contract and all The frame with momentary spasms heaved In the strangling traction which did never cease.

I cried unto the spectre, 'Time hath bound Thy body with the fibre of his hours.'

Then rose a mult.i.tude of mocking sounds, And some mouths spat at me and cried 'thou fool', And some, 'thou liest', and some, 'he dreams': and then Some hands uplifted certain bowls they bore To lips that writhed but drank with eagerness.

And some played curious viols, shaped like hearts And stringed with loves, to light and ribald tunes, And other hands slit throats with knives, And others patted all the painted cheeks In reach, and others stole what others had Unseen, or boldly s.n.a.t.c.hed at alien rights, And some o' the heads did vie in a foolish game OF WHICH COULD HOLD ITSELF THE HIGHEST, and OF WHICH ONE'S NECK WAS STIFF THE LONGEST TIME.

And then the sea in silence wove a veil Of mist, and breathed it upward and about, And waved and wound it softly round the world, And meshed my dream i' the vague and endless folds, And a light wind arose and blew these off, And I awoke.

The many heads are priests That have forgot eternity: and Time Hath caught and bound them with a withe Into a f.a.got huge, to burn in h.e.l.l.

-- Now if the priesthood put such shame upon Your cry for leaders.h.i.+p, can better help Come out of knighthood?

Lo! you smile, you boors?

You villeins smile at knighthood?

Now, thou France That wert the mother of fair chivalry, Unclose thine eyes, unclose thine eyes, here, see, Here stand a herd of knaves that laugh to scorn Thy gentlemen!

O contumely hard, O bitterness of last disgrace, O sting That stings the coward knights of lost Poictiers!

I would --” but now a murmur rose i' the crowd Of angry voices, and the friar leapt From where he stood to preach and pressed a path Betwixt the ma.s.s that way the voices came.

Chapter III.

Lord Raoul was riding castleward from field.

At left hand rode his lady and at right His fool whom he loved better; and his bird, His fine ger-falcon best beloved of all, Sat hooded on his wrist and gently swayed To the undulating amble of the horse.

Guest-knights and huntsmen and a noisy train Of loyal-stomached flatterers and their squires Clattered in retinue, and aped his pace, And timed their talk by his, and worked their eyes By intimation of his glance, with great And drilled precision.

Then said the fool: ”'Twas a brave flight, my lord, that last one! brave.

Didst note the heron once did turn about, And show a certain anger with his wing, And make as if he almost dared, not quite, To strike the falcon, ere the falcon him?

A foolish d.a.m.nable advised bird, Yon heron! What? Shall herons grapple hawks?

G.o.d made the herons for the hawks to strike, And hawk and heron made he for lords' sport.”

”What then, my honey-tongued Fool, that knowest G.o.d's purposes, what made he fools for?”

”For To counsel lords, my lord. Wilt hear me prove Fools' counsel better than wise men's advice?”

”Aye, prove it. If thy logic fail, wise fool, I'll cause two wise men whip thee soundly.”

”So: 'Wise men are prudent: prudent men have care For their own proper interest; therefore they Advise their own advantage, not another's.

But fools are careless: careless men care not For their own proper interest; therefore they Advise their friend's advantage, not their own.'