Lord of Misrule

“ Where men have stoned the very saints of God.
"And if, Mirèio, thou couldst see before thee,
As we from empyrean heights of glory,
This world; and what a sad and foolish thing
Is all its passion for the perishing,
Its churchyard terrors,—then, O lambkin sweet,
Mayhap thou wouldst for death and pardon bleat!
"But, ere the wheat-ear hath its feathery birth,
Ferments the grain within the darksome earth,—
Such ever is the law; and even we,
Before we wore our crowns of majesty,
Drank bitter draughts. Therefore, thy soul to stay,
We 'll tell the pains and perils of our way." ”

“ She replied:——With love and good will! It hath reached me, O auspicious King, the director, the right-guiding, lord of the rede which is benefiting and of deeds fair-seeming and worthy celebrating, that the Astrologers said to King Al-Mihrjan, “Verily the consequence of thy vision is auspicious;” and on the second night Iblis the Accursed appeared to him under the bodily form of a handsome man and said, “Ho thou the King, I am he who terrified thee yesternight in thy dream, for the reason that thou hast ruined the Monastery of the Archers [184] wherein I lay homed. ”

“ Oh, stay! Life’s in thine eyes.
Ah, if thou couldst do something,” the lad cries,
“For him,—the poor old basket-weaver there,—
My father, worn with toil!” In her despair,
Mirèio bathes the wound, while some bring lint,
And some run to the hills for healing mint.
Then the maid’s mother spake: “Let four men rally,
And to the Fairies’ Cavern, in the valley
They call Enfer, bear up this wounded man.
The deadlier the hurt, the sooner can
The old witch heal. Scale first the cliffs of Baux,
And circling vultures the cave’s mouth will show.” ”

“ The witch Taven, sat silent, cronching lowly
As lost in thought and utter melancholy,
Holding a sprig of brome, and muttering,
"Some call thee devil's wheat, poor little thing,
"Yet art thou one of God's own signs for good!"
Therewith Mirèio, trembling where she stood,
Was fain to tell why they had sought her thus.
"I knew it!" cried the witch, impervious,
The brome addressing still, with bended head.
"Thou poor field-flower! The trampling flock," she said,
"Browse on thy leaves and stems the whole year long ”

“ And “Have you seen Mirèio?” is their cry.
While Ramoun and his wife by the fireside
Are sitting, lost in grief, and swollen-eyed,
And at their hearts the bitterness of death.
“Doubtless,” they said, “her reason wandereth.
Oh, what a mad and wretched maid it is!
Oh, what a heavy, cruel downfall this!
“Oh, dire disgrace! Our beauty and our hope
So with the last of trampers to elope!
Fled with a gypsy! And who shall discover
The secret hole of this kidnapping lover,
Where he the shameless one concealèd hath?”
And, as they spake, they knit their brows in wrath. ”

“ Quoth the Angel, "Naught will be with thee but thy works good or evil." "I have no works," said the King; and the Angel, "Doubtless thy long home will be in hell-fire and thy doom the wrath of the Almighty." Then he seized the soul of the King, and he fell off his throne and dropped on the earth dead. And there arose a mighty weeping and wailing and clamour of keening for him among the people of his court, and had they known that to which he went of the wrath of his Lord, their weeping for him had been sorer and their wailing louder and more abounding. ”

“ Are sharp as needles,” as Mirèio said{44}
Softly, three more of the wee brood she pressed
Into their smooth, white prison with the rest,
Who, when bestowed within that refuge warm,
Thought they were in their nest and safe from harm.
“Are there more, Vincen?”—“Ay!” he answered her.
“Then, Holy Virgin! you’re a sorcerer!”
“Thou simple maid! About St. George’s day,
Ten, twelve, and fourteen eggs, these tomtits lay.
Ay, often. Now let these the others follow!
They are the last: so good-bye, pretty hollow!” ”

“ Was borne aloft Mirèio’s faltering prayer:—
“O holy Maries, who can cheer
The sorrow-laden,
Lend, I beseech, a pitying ear
To one poor maiden!
“And when you see my cruel care
And misery,
Then look in mercy down the air,
And side with me!
“I am so young, dear Saints above,
And there’s a youth—
My handsome Vincen—whom I love
With utter truth!
“I love him as the wayward stream
Its wanderings;
As loves the new-fledged bird, I deem,
To try its wings. ”

“ He blessed the generations there assembled.
“Moreover, he who is a father truly
Will have his child yield him obedience duly:
The flock that drives the shepherd, soon or late,
Will meet a wolf and a disastrous fate.
When we were young, had any son withstood
His father, he, belike, had shed his blood!”
“Thou wilt kill me then, father! It is I
Whom Vincen worships thus despairingly;
And before God and our most holy Mother,
I give my soul to him, and to no other!”
A deathlike hush followed Mirèio’s word.
The wife of Ramoun was the first who stirred. ”

“ That dynasty of scamp-gods was, at last, forced to abdicate, but only to yield their throne to a celestial Phalaris, a torture-god who cruelly punished the gratification of the most natural instincts, and foredoomed a vast plurality of his children to an eternity of horrid and hopeless torments. Every natural enjoyment was denounced as sinful. Every natural blessing was vilified as a curse in disguise. Mirth is the sunshine of the human mind, the loveliest impulse of life’s truest children; yet the apostle of Antinaturalism promised his heaven to the gloomy world-despiser. ”

“ I love you, Vincen, love you!—That is all!”
The river-banks, the close-pruned willows hoary,
Green grass and ambient air, hearing this story,
Were full of glee. But the poor basket-weaver,
“Princess, that thou who art so fair and clever,
Shouldst have a tongue given to wicked lying!
Why, it confounds me! It is stupefying!
“What! thou in love with me? Mirèio,
My poor life is yet happy. Do not go
And make a jest thereof! I might believe
Just for one moment, and thereafter grieve
My soul to death. Ah, no! my pretty maid,
Laugh no more at me in this wise!” he said. ”

“ Mizra, ruler of Bagdad.”
The two storks looked at each other and the Caliph said—“Can you not guess now why we have been thus bewitched? Mizra is the son of my deadly enemy, the powerful magician Kaschnur, who once in an evil moment swore revenge against me. But we will not despair; come, my faithful comrade, we will seek the grave of our great prophet, and perchance in that holy spot we shall be freed from the enchantment.” ”

“ Oh, he was an angel, a jewel of heaven! A curse on his destroyers! A curse, a curse upon yourself!
OLD MOOR (strikes his breast and forehead with his clenched fist) . He was an angel, a jewel of heaven! A curse, a curse, perdition, a curse on myself! I am the father who slew his noble son! He loved me even to death! To expiate my vengeance he rushed into battle and into death! Monster, monster that I am! (He rages against himself.)
FRANCIS. He is gone. What avail these tardy lamentations? (with a satanic sneer.) It is easier to murder than to restore to life. ”

“ Fair without and foul within, When the honey'd husks are reft From the bitter sweets of sin, Bitterness alone is left; Yet the wayward soul hath striven Mostly hell's ally to be, In the strife 'twixt hell and heaven, Miserere Domine! Heu! heu! herba latet anguis— Caro herba—carni vae— Solum purgat, Christi sanguis, Miserere Domine! (Miserere!) Pray that in the doubtful fight Man may win through sore distress, By His goodness infinite, And His mercy fathomless. Pray for one more of the weary, Head bow'd down and bended knee, Swell the requiem, Miserere! Miserere Domine! ”

“ And thy deeds in his hand shall blossom, and his heart of thine heart shall be fain.
"When thou hearest the fool rejoicing, and he saith, 'It is over and past,
And the wrong was better than right, and hate turns into love at the last,
And we strove for nothing at all, and the Gods are fallen asleep;
For so good is the world a growing that the evil good shall reap:'
Then loosen thy sword in the scabbard and settle the helm on thine head,
For men betrayed are mighty, and great are the wrongfully dead
"Wilt thou do the deed and repent it? ”

“ Is not so pale. Then backward the two sank,
And gazed at one another on the bank,
Until the weaver’s son the silence brake,
And thus in seeming wrath arose and spake:
“Shame on thee, thou perfidious mulberry!
A devil’s tree! A Friday-planted tree!
Blight seize and wood-louse eat thee! May thy master
Hold thee in horror for this day’s disaster!
Tell me thou art not hurt, Mirèio!”
Trembling from head to foot, she answered, “No:
“I am not hurt ”

“ What plots prepared against her virtue, ay, by splendid soldiers, beautiful young lords, and even clergymen; above all, by one monster whom she had discovered to be, not only a monster, but a traitor to the King, and an agent of the Pretender. She was a young thing then, married to an old lord, all unprotected, on every side beset by flattery. ”

“ And where is the great difficulty in obeying this wise, this generous, this noble precept? If revenge be, as a certain divine, not greatly to his honour, calls it, the most luscious morsel the devil ever dropt into the mouth of a sinner, it must be allowed at least to cost us often extremely dear. It is a dainty, if indeed it be one, which we come at with great inquietude, with great difficulty, and with great danger. ”

“ God is just, and He will at last punish these evil-doers. And supposing there is no God, then will we try a little with the devil himself. No, they shall not destroy the noble Cranmer and this beautiful, high-minded queen. I forbid it—I, John Heywood, the king’s fool. I will see everything, observe everything, hear everything. They shall find me everywhere on their path; and when they poison the king’s ear with their diabolical whisperings, I will heal it again with my merry deviltries. The king’s fool will be the guardian angel of the queen. ”

“ Indeed it would be difficult not to understand the Miserere, which I take to be the composition of an atheist. If it ever be a good thing to take such despondency to heart, the Miserere is the right music, and a cathedral a fit scene. So far I am at one with the Catholics:—an odd name for them, after all? But why, in God’s name, these holiday choristers? why these priests who steal wandering looks about the congregation while they feign to be at prayer? why this fat nun, who rudely arranges her procession and shakes delinquent virgins by the elbow? ”

“ The prince, whose looks disdainful anger show,
Now meant to use his puissance every deal,
He shaked his head and crashed his teeth for ire,
His lips breathed wrath, eyes sparkled shining fire.
XLIII
The Pagan wretch no longer could sustain
The dreadful terror of his fierce aspect,
Against the threatened blow he saw right plain
No tempered armor could his life protect,
He leapt aside, the stroke fell down in vain,
Against a pillar near a bridge erect.
Thence flaming fire and thousand sparks outstart,
And kill with fear the coward Pagan’s heart. ”

“ Upspringing with clasped hands and utterance wild,
"Your speech is an atrocious insult, child!
Your love 's a thorn that long hath stung us deep.
Alari, the owner of a thousand sheep,
You sent away; and keeper Veran too,
Disgusted with your scorn, his suit withdrew;
"Also the wealthy herdsman, Ourrias,
You treated as a dog and a scapegrace!
Tramp through the country with your beggar, then!
Herd with strange women and with outcast men! ”

“ Nine following eves the beasts take up their station,
And seem to mourn after their speechless fashion;
The sea, the plain, the winds, thereover blowing,
Echo nine days with melancholy lowing,—
"Poor Master Ambroi!" Vincen wandered on,
"Thou wilt weep heavy tears over thy son!
And now, good Santen, one last wish is mine,—
Bury me with my love, below the brine;
Scoop in the oozy sand a crib for two:
Tears for so great a mourning will not do. ”

“ When we see a sinner in tribulation in this life, we may infer that God wishes to have mercy on him in the next, and that he exchanges eternal for temporal chastisement. But miserable the sinner whom the Lord does not punish in this life! For those whom he does not chastise here, he treasures up his wrath, and for them he reserves eternal chastisement. ”

“ My curse rests upon it for ever. Cursed be he who owns it, whether eating or sleeping or waking. Cursed be he and all his, whether god or devil. Sorrow and unhappiness shall go with this Gold through all the ends of the earth!"
Notwithstanding this dread curse, the gods seized the Ring from off his finger and lost no time in making off with the treasure, leaving the dwarf grovelling upon the floor and muttering fierce words against them. All their care now was to ransom their sister and drive away the mists of old age. ”

“ Upon its udders, but doth only lick
Moss from the base of the precipitous peak
Of Baux,—I’d perish in the quarries there,
Or bring thee down the goat with golden hair!
“So much, that, if thou saidst, ‘I want a star,’
There is no stream so wild, no sea so far,
But I would cross; no headsman, steel or fire,
That could withhold me. Yea, I would climb higher
Than peaks that kiss the sky, that star to wrest;
And Sunday thou shouldst wear it on thy breast!
“O my Mirèio! Ever as I gaze,
Thy beauty fills me with a deep amaze. ”

“ Devourers of the needy, murderers,
"Atheists, traitors, that worm-eaten kind.
These hunt the river-shore, but only find
Their sins and crimes like great stones in the gravel
Whereon their bare feet stumble as they travel.
The mule when dead is beaten never more;
But these God's mercy shall in vain implore
"Under the roaring wave." ”