The Heretic's Tragedy: A Middle-Age Interlude

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.

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.

[And wanteth there grace of lute or

clavicithern, ye shall say to

confirm 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.

We 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.

Laus deo--who bids 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!"

'Tis John the mocker cries, "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.

O, John shall yet find 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 righteousness

And of temperance and of judgment to come,

Good Felix trembled, he could no less:

John, snickering, crook'd his wicked thumb.

What cometh to John of the wicked thumb?

Ha ha, John plucketh now at his rose

To 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 toils

Of a coal-black giant flower of hell!

What maketh heaven, That maketh 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.

God help all poor souls lost in the dark!