The Heretic's Tragedy

Virgilius. AND HATH OFTEN BEEN SUNGERAM, Jessides.

(It would seem to be a glimpse from the burningof Jacques du Bourg-Molay, at Paris, A.D. 1314,as distorted by the refraction from Flemish brain to brain,during the course of a couple of centuries.)

The Lord, we look to once for all,Is the Lord we should look at, all at once:He knows not to vary, saith Saint Paul,Nor the shadow of turning, for the nonce.See him no other than as he is!Give both the infinitudes their due--Infinite mercy, but, I wis,As infinite a justice too.

John, Master of the Temple of God,Falling to sin the Unknown Sin,What he bought of Emperor Aldabrod,He sold it to Sultan Saladin:Till, caught by Pope Clement, a-buzzing there,Hornet-prince of the mad wasps' hive,And clipt of his wings in Paris square,They bring him now to be burned alive.clavicithern, ye shall say toconfirm him who singeth--We bring John now to be burned alive.

In the midst is a goodly gallows built;'Twixt fork and fork, a stake is stuck;But first they set divers tumbrils a-tilt,Make a trench all round with the city muck;Inside they pile log upon log, good store;Faggots no few, blocks great and small,Reach a man's mid-thigh, no less, no more,--For they mean he should roast in the sight of all.

Good sappy bavins that kindle forthwith;Billets that blaze substantial and slow;Pine-stump split deftly, dry as pith;Larch-heart that chars to a chalk-white glow:They up they hoist me John in a chafe,Sling him fast like a hog to scorch,Spit in his face, then leap back safe,Sing "Laudes" and bid clap-to the torch.

John of the Temple, whose fame so bragged,Is burning alive in Paris square!How can he curse, if his mouth is gagged?Or wriggle his neck, with a collar there?Or heave his chest, which a band goes round?Or threat with his fist, since his arms are spliced?Or kick with his feet, now his legs are bound?--Thinks John, I will call upon Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ--John had bought and sold,Jesus Christ--John had eaten and drunk;To him, the Flesh meant silver and gold.(Salva reverentia.)Now it was, "Saviour, bountiful lamb,"I have roasted thee Turks, though men roast me!"See thy servant, the plight wherein I am!"Art thou a saviour? Save thou me!"

Who maketh God's menace an idle word?--Saith, it no more means what it proclaims,Than a damsel's threat to her wanton bird?For she too prattles of ugly names.--Saith, he knoweth but one thing--what he knows?That God is good and the rest is breath;Why else is the same styled Sharon's rose?Once a rose, ever a rose, he saith.

Alack, there be roses and roses, John!Some, honied of taste like your leman's tongue:Some, bitter; for why? (roast gaily on!)Their tree struck root in devil's-dung.When Paul once reasoned of righteousnessAnd of temperance and of judgment to come,Good Felix trembled, he could no less:John, snickering, crook'd his wicked thumb.

Ha ha, John plucketh now at his roseTo rid himself of a sorrow at heart!Lo,--petal on petal, fierce rays unclose;Anther on anther, sharp spikes outstart;And with blood for dew, the bosom boils;And a gust of sulphur is all its smell;And lo, he is horribly in the toilsOf a coal-black giant flower of hell!

So, as John called now, through the fire amain,On the Name, he had cursed with, all his life--To the Person, he bought and sold again--For the Face, with his daily buffets rife--Feature by feature It took its place:And his voice, like a mad dog's choking bark,At the steady whole of the Judge's face--Died. Forth John's soul flared into the dark.